Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Chapter One: Brilliance Is A Matter Of Opinion

A/n: The first revised chapter of Brilliant! Thank you to Shememmy for helping me with this! The rest of the revised version of the book will be posted once it is complete. Nevertheless, you can still read the unrevised version.

-revised 14/09/2014-

CHAPTER ONE: BRILLIANCE IS A MATTER OF OPINION

To the ordinary person, with an ordinary mind, two hundred and twenty one B Baker Street seemed like a quaint flat where nothing extraordinary occurred. Amelia Watson, however, was no ordinary person with an ordinary mind. She stood on the pavement, her long brown hair flying in the wind and her sharp silver eyes examining the flat intently.

She noticed the chips in the wood of the doorframe and the scuff marks around the keyhole, all tell-tale signs of numerous forced entries. The green paint so dark it was almost black, was even lighter under the brass knocker which didn't hang straight, as if someone had deliberately placed it askew, not wanting to conform to the social norms.

Of course, Amelia knew who lived here, and if the rumours rang true, the attendants of 221B Baker Street were not the type of people to conform to social norms. She let out a breath and glanced at the window above the door, furrowing her eyebrows when she saw the curtain flutter. Then, she smiled as she rapped twice on the door.

An elderly lady with greying blonde hair greeted Amelia. A golden cross on a matching chain hung around her neck, falling just above her sternum.

Christian. Alright. Amelia thought as she cleared her throat. "Is John Watson, here?"

The woman gave her a long look and then grinned. "You must be Amelia," she said rather perkily, "It's a pleasure to meet you dear."

"Likewise," Amelia said quickly, never one for small talk. "I can come back another time."

 "Nonsense!" the woman exclaimed, sounding genuinely offended. "I'll put on the kettle, I was going to anyway, and I'm sure John will be back soon. He ran out to the shop to get some food, Sherlock's a genius but he's really quite absentminded, but John's considerate and does it for him. Poor lad, Sherlock sometimes doesn't even help pay the rent even with the brother he has working for the government, making all that money. Mike, I believe it was."

"Mycroft," Amelia corrected, trying her hardest not to smile at the woman's ramblings.

"Good heavens," She sounded exasperated, "what sort of ungodly name is that? Poor lad must have gotten a lot of teasing when he was younger. Now he's all...bitter."

"Right," Amelia nodded once, "are you sure you don't want me to come back later?"

The woman waved her hand around in the air. "Nonsense, dear. I'm sure Sherlock would appreciate the company of the youngest Watson. He is quite fond of them. Besides, with a pretty face like yours, I'm sure he'll like you. Even if he is with your brother."

"John's not gay," said Amelia, biting back her laughter. "And from what I've heard about Sherlock, I don't think he is either."

"You should see the two of them around each other, dearie." said the woman happily, trotting off towards what Amelia deemed to be her kitchen. "And if Sherlock gets stubborn, tell him Mrs Hudson sent you. He'll have no choice but to let you in. Owes me a favour that one does. Last month's rent was due and he forgot about it entirely. Some days, I think he'd be helpless if John wasn't there at all. Poor sod." She tutted and shook her head, frowning at Amelia. "Go on then! He's upstairs." She said, shooing her off.

Amelia pursed her lips and slowly started walking up the stairs, completely silent. She raised her hand to knock when a tall, thin man with cheekbones so high that it made him look gaunt, a head full of curly black hair that appeared as if it hadn't been washed in a few days, and a pair of piercing blues opened the door, frowning when his gaze fell upon her.