John saw nothing of their new neighbor for several days, and then, almost a week after meeting her, he ran into her again in the foyer. "Oh, hello," he said. His attention went to the large box that she was working at ripping open. "Do you need some help with that?"
The woman spun and crossed her arms. "You," was all she said. Her eyes flashed with anger.
"Yes?" John responded, uneasily. "Have I done something to offend you?"
"When you said I might see an unmarked car around, you ought to have at least mentioned I'd be kidnapped by it!" the young woman snapped, obviously livid. Her voice rose with every word. "Getting dropped off in the middle of a giant warehouse for a chat with a stranger is not my idea of a fun afternoon!"
Dumbfounded, John stared at her. "I'm really sorry, Violet," he told her sincerely. "I had no idea Mycroft would do that to you." He hesitated. "Did he offer you money to spy on us?"
"Of course he did, John," Sherlock said, coming down a few steps. He was dressed in his usual at home outfit: t-shirt, pajama pants, and a dressing gown. "Sherlock Holmes. You must be the new neighbor John was warning me about."
Violet shifted her glare to him. "Yeah, I know," she said. "I can see the family resemblance between you and that...that man." Sherlock froze. "I don't care what tradition you people have here in London, or whatever it is you call what happened to me, but this will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?"
Stepping down to the bottom, Sherlock towered over the woman. "Or what?" he asked, his tone cool. Violet's glare changed to a look of confusion. "Generally when you say something 'will not happen again', there's a threat accompanied with those words, Miss Hunter."
"I don't threaten people, Mr. Holmes," Violet responded evenly. "I don't need to."
Quickly, John hurried down to get between them, trying to think of some way to apologize to the woman. To his surprise, Sherlock laughed. "You must have had an interesting conversation with my brother, Miss Hunter," the tall man commented. "Did you harm any of his minions, did you?"
A blush colored Violet's cheeks. "Not seriously," she said, still holding on to the anger in her voice, though now there was a touch of smugness. "And, actually, I wasn't offered money to spy on you."
John wished he'd had a camera to capture the look of surprise on Sherlock's face. "You weren't?"
"No," Violet answered, a smirk appearing on her face. "Its not an offer when its assumed I'll accept what's offered. Your brother simply handed me a check along with a number which I would use to let him know what was going on in your flat." She raised her chin in defiance. "I tore it up in his face, in case you're interested."
Sherlock's eyes flicked over her. "Perhaps he could see, as I do, that a little extra money could go a long way for you, Miss Hunter," he remarked. Violet's eyes widened. "You're used to having what you need, so a basement flat is a long way for you to fall, isn't it?"
"How the hell can the two of you possibly know that?" Violet demanded in a low tone.
"You didn't ask Mycroft?"
"I was a little preoccupied with getting him to send me back," Violet said dismissively. She uncrossed her arms to poke Sherlock in the chest with one finger. "Now, you're going to tell me how you seem to know me so well."
"No no no," John said quickly, moving between them. "Not now, Sherlock."
"She asked," Sherlock responded, looking over John's head. "Your clothes, Miss Hunter. They're well made, clearly not cheap. And they're not that far out of style. That tells me you come from a rather wealthy family, but you've taken a damp flat in a basement. So, you've had a change in circumstances."
Violet's lips thinned into a straight line. "Am I that easy to read, Mr. Holmes?"
"Almost everyone is," Sherlock informed her. "Even if I couldn't see that you had your instrument sent to you, I'd know you were an amateur cellist by the callouses on your fingers. A cello isn't an inexpensive instrument, which again points to your wealthy upbringing."
He moved past John to circle his newest victim. "You have dark circles under your eyes, though cleverly hidden by makeup so that a casual observer couldn't see," he continued. "And furniture hasn't been delivered, so you're sleeping on what an air mattress? Again, speaks to your lack of funds. Your refusal to accept my brother's money hints to your strong moral compass. A trait you share with John here."
"Sherlock, I think that's quite enough," John said.
"So, this all begs the question of what you are doing in London, Miss Hunter," Sherlock said, peering closely at Violet. "You have limited funds, but you've crossed the Atlantic and taken a flat in London."
"Sherlock, enough."
Violet turned to face Sherlock. "Maybe I came to have a new start, Mr. Holmes," she responded evenly. "Did that occur to you?"
"Certainly, but it would have been far easier for you to find that new start in America," Sherlock answered easily. "No, you came a very long way, Miss Hunter. You must have a reason. You're a woman so it must be a sentimental one."
"Oh, dear, am I interrupting?" Mrs. Hudson asked from the doorway to her flat. "I was just coming to fetch the mail."
John breathed a sigh of relief. "Not at all, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said, straightening up. He kept his eyes on Violet. "Miss Hunter and I were just becoming acquainted."
Spinning on her heel, Violet stalked back to her box and set to tearing into the cardboard. Within a second, the case to her cello was in view. "Sorry about the mess, Mrs. Hudson," Violet said, grabbing the handle and jerking the case free of the cardboard that had protected it on its journey. "Is there a bin for recycling?"
"I'll take care of it, dear," Mrs. Hudson said, looking concerned. "Has Sherlock upset you?"
"Not at all. To say that he has offended me would imply that I actually care what he says or thinks, and nothing could be further from the truth," Violet answered insincerely. With her cello banging against her leg, she walked to her flat. She slammed the door behind her.
With a smirk, Sherlock turned to return to the upstairs. "Was that really necessary?" John demanded. "She is out neighbor."
"Mycroft seemed to think she was of interest," Sherlock responded. "I believe there is much more to Miss Violet Hunter than meets the eye."
He brushed past John, who just let him go. "John, do you mind?" Mrs. Hudson asked, gesturing at the cardboard.
"Not at all, Mrs. Hudson," John answered, and moved to help her clean it up.
~*~
Over the next week, several different furniture company trucks parked in front of the building and each would carry in one piece of furniture. Every time, Sherlock would spend one minute watching before turning away without a word. John didn't see much of their neighbor, beyond random passings in the foyer, where she would ignore him.
Two weeks after the encounter in foyer, cello music was floating up from the basement flat when John arrived from the surgery.
"Definitely more to her than there seems to be," was Sherlock's comment as soon as John set foot in their flat. He was laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. His hands waved in time to the very, very faint melody being played.
"Sherlock, she is not some puzzle to be solved," John told him.
"Invite her to dinner," Sherlock requested unexpectedly. He sat up straight as if struck by an epiphany. "We'll take her to Angelo's. A sort of welcome to Baker Street thing. That's what people do, right? She's likely to slam the door in my face if I go."
Resignedly, John shrugged his coat off. "Why do you want to invite her to dinner? She probably hates you, and me by association, now."
"Like I said, Mycroft found something of interest in her. I want to know what it is, and what brings her to London. Ordinarily, it wouldn't matter, but I'm bored and she's just downstairs. Unless you want me to start shooting the wall again."
That alarmed John. "No!" he protested. "Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson hasn't forgiven either of us from the last time you did that." He sighed. "All right. I'll go see if Violet wants to go out. But I am not going to bully her into going."
Sherlock waved one hand. "And you're wrong," he called after John. "Mrs. Hudson always forgives me."
Shaking his head, John went down the stairs. He approached the door to the C flat with some trepidation. The music had stopped. Taking a deep breath, John knocked on the door and then waited. He was about to turn and walk away when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
The door swung open. "Oh, its you," Violet said, rubbing her red rimmed eyes.
"Are you all right?" John asked in concern. "I can come back at a different time."
"No, I'm fine," Violet insisted. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well? What do you want? I'm assuming you didn't just come knock on my door for no reason."
John cleared his throat. "Right, yes," he said. "Sherlock and I would like to take you to dinner as a welcome to Baker Street thing. Sherlock has friends in all kinds of restaurants all over London, so you can have your pick."
Leaning against the door frame, Violet sighed. "Is Mrs. Hudson invited too?" she asked. John frowned at her. "Well, if its a 221 Baker Street welcome thing, shouldn't all the residents be included?"
"Ah, I can ask, but she has her shows," John hedged.
"No, don't bother. I really only have one more question," she said. " Why? I can understand you would do something like this to welcome me to the place, but your room- sorry, flat-mate? No, he only does things for a reason."
Surprised, John blinked. "So either you're including him to try to be nice, or this was his idea and he wants something from me," Violet continued.
"Yeah, its his idea," John admitted. "I have no idea why. You don't have to say yes."
"Give me ten minutes to get ready," Violet requested and shut the door.
"Ok."