Sherlock Imagines

Anything But Ordinary (Part 3)-Sherlock

You had just walked into your flat and set your things down when there was a knock at your door. You rolled your eyes and opened it. You were surprised to be greeted by Sherlock Holmes.

"Hello." You said. "What brings you here?" You asked.

"You do." Sherlock responded completely serious.

"Okay then. Come in." You said stepping aside and letting the tall man inside.

He walked in and you followed, after shutting the door. You walked to the kitchen and grabbed to cups.

"Tea?" You called as he sat down on the couch, looking around at everything.

"No." He answered.

"Alrighty then." You mumbled but kept both mugs out.

You knew just what to do. You brewed the drink and put some in each of them. You took out some sugar and added just as much as was needed. You returned to the living room with the cups in your hand.

"I said I didn't want any-"

"It's coffee. Black with two sugars." You interrupted placing the mug in his hands.

"Thank you." He managed to say after a pause.

He then seemed to take a minute to observe you. You and your flat. You eyed him suspiciously but also a little sarcastically as if to lighten the mood. Both you knew that you were deducing each other, but neither one of you spoke first. You both finished your drinks and you brought the cups to the kitchen. You walked back in and found Sherlock standing and looking and the pictures you had hanging on the wall.

"Your family?" He asked, as if sensing your presence.

"Yes." You answered, not wanting to expand on anything, but you knew he was going to ask.

"They don't know you're here, do they?" He questioned, turning around.

You shook your head, "No. I don't have an extremely close relationship with my family. Once I moved out, it seemed as though communication with each other stopped. I still have their numbers but...it wouldn't surprise me if they had new ones by now." You explained looking down at the ground.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"It's fine. I'm used to having no one. It's just the way I am."

Sherlock nodded and then left. Your words clung to him though, and you never left his mind. You were both so alike. So clever. So...alone. You were anything but ordinary and this intrigued him. You knew that you had, which made you smile. You turned around and sat on the couch, turning on your favorite movie. But your mind wasn't on the television, your mind wandered to the tall man, Sherlock Holmes.

***

You were interrupted half way through the movie by a phone call. You looked at the number and groaned. You answered and put the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"  You called.

"Y/n, we've got a case."  Lestrade informed you.

You smiled widely, "I'll be there."  You said and hung up.

You quickly freshened up and then left, going to the address Lestrade had texted you. When you arrived, you practically jumped out of the cab. Since this was your first case here in London, you were a little excited.

"Ah, y/n!"  Lestrade greeted you when he saw you. 

"Whatcha got?"  You asked.

Greg led you to a dead body lying on the ground. There was a bullet wound in his head and dried blood.

"This man was found here earlier today. There was a gun found on him so we think it's suicide."  He said.

You took about two minutes to examine the body. You checked the contents of his pockets his hands.

"What hand was the gun in?"  You asked.

"The left one, but why does matter?  The bullet hole is on the left side of his head."  Greg said.

"Yes but the murderer wanted it to look like it was suicide. There was some struggle between the murderer and the victim, obvious from the slight stains of blood on the man's knuckles and dead skin cells under the finger nails. The murderer then shot the man through the head on the left side. He immediately realized his mistake, but put the gun in the left hand anyway."

"Hang on.." Greg interrupted. "What mistake?" 

"This man is right handed, you can tell by the pockets he puts his most important things in. Also, his right hand is used more than the left one so, he's a right handed. This murderer obviously wasn't planning on having someone with brains would be examining this body."  You mumbled the last part. "The murderer then left the body here. So, just take the dead skin, run some tests, and then you've got your murderer."  You finished.

"Right then.  Guess we won't need you then."  Greg said to someone behind you.

You turned around to see Sherlock Holmes standing there, mouth agape. "That was quite impressive."  He said.

"Thank you."  You said blushing slightly.

"So, you're a detective."  He stated.

"Mhmm."  You nodded.

"But why would Lestrade hire a detective from America when I'm already here unless..." He trailed off at a realization. "Your boss from America is Lestrade's cousin."  He finished.

"That's right!  So, why hasn't Lestrade hired you?"  You asked.

"Because, I'm a consulting detective.  I enjoy solving cases and deducing people. But you seem to be different." 

"I get that a lot."  You said smiling.

"Yes, but what makes you different to me is that I can't get you out of my head. You're confusing and you're clouding my brain."  He said.

"You know, I can't get you out of my head either."  You admitted.

"Really?" He asked.

"You're something different also.  Most everyone is so ordinary but you're..." You trailed off trying to find the words to fit.

"Anything but ordinary."  You and Sherlock said simultaneously.

You both smiled and looked down.  When you looked up, the two of you locked eyes. A pink color coated both of your cheeks.

"Do you want to go back to Baker Street?"  Sherlock asked.

You nodded, "I'd love to."