BRIEF SUMMARY
Elliot doesn't normally room with neurotic girls with a knack for invading personal space and solving crimes, but the circumstances aren't exactly normal.
FULL SUMMARY
In a well-balanced universe, Elliot would be able to afford his own apartment or at least room with a decent human being with actual human feelings. Instead, he gets stuck with Shirley Holmes. Pushy, neurotic, crime-crazy Shirley. Of course, being the latter and being a genderswapped namesake of the world's favorite consulting detective, it'd only make sense (to Shirley, at least) to start a detective service out of their newly rented apartment.
The unlikely duo are thrust into a world filled with cheating frat boys, kidnapped mascots, and a frightening abundance of adderall, where they learn the lessons of life, love, and the pursuit of happiness (or as Eli likes to call it: Preparation for the Complete and Utter Destruction of One's Social Life or Lack Thereof, a two-semester-course).
CHAPTER ONE (UNFINISHED)
Elliot wouldn't go as far as to say he groveled, but a little hands and knees action did occur.
In his defense, this belittling exercise was completely justified by the fact that Elliot is one, a freshman in university who forgot to turn in his housing packet on time, two, currently residing in a beat-up, roach motel being paid for with the last chunk of his student loans, and three, stockpiling Top Ramen like it's going out of style. Therefore, after reaching out to the saner side of Beacon Hills University's classifieds without hearing a single thing back, he finally (against his better judgement) finds himself at the feet of an olive-skinned girl with a frizzy rat's nest on top of her head and a fake pipe in her mouth.
"Look I really need a place to stay okay and you are my last resort and you're probably not going to accept me because I mean look at me I reek of failure I can't even get a reply from someone with an inch of sanity no offense I mean obviously that's offensive God that was really mean why did I even say that I'm sorry please let me stay here."
The girl didn't blink, instead pretending to suck on her pipe with an unimpressed look.
"Did I say please? Because I meant to say please."
"What's your name, mate?"
Her accent startles Elliot, not expecting the soft ring to come out of the mouth of a girl who he doesn't think actually knows how to smile. Pushing himself off the floor, he shoots her a dazzling grin. "That's an interesting accent. Are you from England? London, perhaps? You know, I have a great aunt who lives down there--"
"I'm American."
"But your--"
"My accent is the product of two hippie parents who spoke in an English accent around me for the first seven years of my life."
"You called me mate."
"I'm trying it out. Name?"
Elliot sits back down in his chair, slumping down defeatedly. "Elliot Marx."
She pulls out a clipboard and begins scribbling away on it. Elliot tries to sneak a peak, but she angles it away as soon as she notices. "So, Eli--"
He can't help interrupting. "It's Elliot."
The girl raises an eyebrow. "It's a nickname."
"Not mine. Off limits. Out of bounds. Crosses the line." Both her eyebrows shoot up. "I mean, if you don't mind not using that particular piece of nomenclature, I'd be eternally grateful."
"Whatever." She scratches through something and then writes something in her place. "Okay, Elliot, do you at the time have $275 on you?"
"Yes."
"Uh huh." She scribbles something down and then looks back up at him. "Will you have $275 on you at this time next month?"
"...yes."
"Great!" The girl abandons the clipboard and, completely uncharacteristically, throws her arms around Elliot's neck and pulls him tight against her. "Welcome home, Eli! Elliot! I meant Elliot, sorry!"
"Can't. Breathe."
"Right! Sorry!" She steps a few feet back, a wide grin that's all teeth and gums. "I'm just so excited! Hashtag roomies!" She squeals, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.
Elliot watches the entire exchange with wide eyes. "Who are you?"
"Oh, sorry. I'm Shirley. Shirley Holmes." She practically throws her entire body at Elliot, one arm outstretched. "I didn't want to put my real name on the ad, because--" She drops her voice to a whisper. "--there are some real freaks in this town."
"You're telling me." He answers, completely stunned by the game changer thrown his way. He frowns a few seconds later as he processes her answer. "Wait, you said your name is Shirley Holmes? Like--"
She nods. "Sherlock Holmes. My parents have an 18th century London obsession. Hence the accent."
