Intellect. (A BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

Intellect- THREE

Intellect.

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THREE.

It wasn't until the next morning when Sherlock had woken. He gained his surroundings and recollected his memories.

A commotion of noise through the floorboards told him someone was moving boxes downstairs. The muffled voice of an older female told him Mrs Hudson was helping out.

Out of curiosity, and the need to know more than anything, made Sherlock jump from his seat to the stairs- peeking over them.

A tall female; bright ginger hair; vivid green eyes. She was moving in to 221C.

Sherlock bounded softly down the stairs, not making a sound, and grabbed a box. Then he silently crept up the stairs again and into his flat.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor he opened the box. It was full of photo frames and certificates. He picked up a frame and studied it.

Older woman with the same eyes and hair colour- definitely her mother. Man standing beside her- too old to be her brother- must be her father.  

Sherlock sifted through the other photos; father, aunt, mother, father, grandfather, mother, mother and father, family photo- no noted siblings yet -dog, dog, baby- her cousin. As far as Sherlock could tell, her parents were spilt; She switched between homes as a child, so a shared custody had been agreed by the mother and father; she cares gratefully about her family given the way their photos are cared for.

Next he was on to the certificates. A few trivial ones- Primary school: tied her own tie, her own shoe laces etc. Then onto more educational certificates- top of her class in biology, chemistry, health and social studies. She's obviously smart, and by the rest of the certificates around he guessed that she's a nurse. Upon finding her university graduate certificate, he cheered silently in his head that he had guessed correctly. The name on every certificate was 'Eleanor Rigby'.

Finding all he could from that particular box, he taped it up again and bounded down the stairs, again, setting it in with the rest of her things.

Just as he turned to leave, Eleanor came to the hallway.

'Hello there!' came her warm voice. 'I've just moved in there,'

'Obviously,' Sherlock said dryly.

'Yes, well. Nice to meet you, my name's Eleanor,'

'Yes, I know. Hello, I'm Sherlock Holmes,'

Eleanor smiled, 'I know this is awfully daring of me to ask, but could you give me a hand with these boxes?'

'I can't, sorry. I have to pop out- bit of a work case to be working on,' Sherlock lied. He sounded almost domestic. Like a human.

'Oh, well. Okay then. No matter! I'll let you get on your way then!' Eleanor said cheerfully.

Sherlock smiled, still acting, and headed to the front door of the building. He opened it, and revealed the same brown-haired blue-eyed girl he'd saved two days before, hand clenched in a fist in the air, as if she were about to knock.

Amy looked a sight. Her hair clung to her head, wet with the heavy rain that was currently down pouring, and she had numerous new cuts and bruises on her face; busted lip, deep purple bruise on her left eye, heavy bruising on her lower right cheek/upper jaw. She was sobbing quietly as she lowered her hand and tackled Sherlock into a hug.