Chapter Two:
CLIENT? FANGIRL?
Lydia was currently staying at a small hotel in central London. The room was small and cramped but it was enough for a few days. She planned to move around since staying in one place for too long, especially in a hotel could be suspicious.
She showered and ate while she got dressed. Deciding to wear an off-shoulder red, maxi dress reaching above her knees. Along with that she put on some minimal makeup, red lipstick and tied her hair up in a bun. To top it all off, she put on her eyeglasses just to look smart.
Off shoulder, red floral, summer dress. Reaching above her knees. Minimum makeup pulled her hair up into a bun. Glasses to look smart. Lydia grabbed her purse and looked at herself in the mirror, feeling comfortable in her disguise.
She hailed a cab and arrived shortly at 221B Baker Street, observing the people walking past and saw that the apartment had friendly sandwich bar neighboring it. Lydia knocked on the door gently.
After a few knocks, the door was opened and revealed a friendly old woman with short dark blonde hair. Lydia quickly deduces that she's the landlady who owns this terraced apartment. She cheerfully smiled once she saw Lydia.
"Good afternoon ma'am! I'm Jennifer Hawks, I'm here to see Mr.Holmes." Lydia put on her best, fake cheerful attitude.
"How lovely! Do come in." She stepped to the side and Lydia walked in.
"May I say that you have such magnificent hair! I'm Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock Holmes' apartment is up the stairs." Mrs. Hudson pointed up the stairs, leading to a closed door. "You don't have to knock darling, he probably already know that you're here."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson!" Lydia walked up the stairs and decided to knock anyway before opening the door.
The first room is a large sitting room, complete with fireplace and mantelpiece with several objects on it, a knife and a skull. There is also a desk, a bison skull with headphones on and beside it is a doorway that leads to a kitchen. Lydia also spotted two chairs in front of the fireplace, where two men were already seated.
She quickly gathered up her pieces of information and saw that Doctor John Watson, who sat by the left was a former British Army Doctor and there to the right sat; Sherlock Holmes.
Gosh, he was handsome, Lydia thought. Mop of brown hair, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Definitely a handsome man that she would look twice at if she ever pass him by the streets.
Lydia ignored her thoughts and coughed, "Sorry! Were you expecting me?"
He nodded, not giving any interest and gestured her to sit down on a chair facing them.
He seemed like a cold and distant man. However, she wasn't going to get out of character and judge him right away. She kept her head down and stayed quiet.
Which gave Sherlock the time to deduce her.
The woman sat there and played with her fingers, she kept glancing down nervously and she bites down her lips, obviously trying to conceal the creeping blush on her face. She was neither a client or a girl having some kind of a high school crush?
"Oh, Sherlock Holmes! I've always been a big fan of yours!" Lydia started subtly and tucked her baby hairs behind her ears.
Sherlock rolled his eyes at that and heaved out a big sigh. John looked at Sherlock sternly, mentally scolding him in his head.
"Sorry, miss..." John started.
She read John Watson once again, pulling out points which could be useful for her. Lydia assumed that not many people knew his name since he was living in the shadows behind the great Sherlock Holmes.
"Hawks. Jennifer Hawks, Doctor Watson!" Lydia smiled, her name was obviously fake.
John looked surprised and taken back, somehow flattered that someone finally remembered his name. "Oh? How did you know my name?"
"Of course I should know the name of the famous blogger! Your writings are so good, have you thought of becoming an author? Publish a book?" She got into character kept blabbering, almost jumping out from her chair.
Sherlock coughed and glanced around in the room, looking clearly uninterested.
John Watson looked surprised and thanked her. "That's lovely, Jennifer. Thank you."
"John, can you go make some tea for us?" Sherlock shortly cut him off after he finished his sentence.
John looked shocked for a moment. "Tea. Now." Sherlock commanded and John immediately placed his notebook down.
"Close the kitchen door behind you." Sherlock said, watching John disappearing into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry, Sherl. Was I giving you too little attention?" 'Jennifer' apologized and focused on him. She placed her hands on her knees and leaned closer.
"Do not call me that." Sherlock snapped, clearly annoyed.
"I know that one day you'll hit the jackpot. You're so smart, so handsome... You'll be famous! You'll be so famous, you won't remember my name." She started, standing up on her feet and walked closer to him. She ignored his last comment completely.
Sherlock on the other hand, was still trying to figure her out. The shy persona was gone and she was confident, swaying her hips as she walked towards him; like a fox creeping up on its prey.
She carefully placed her knee between his legs. "I'll give you something to remember..."
She bent her head down to his ears and softly breathed. Grabbed his hands, placed one on her breast and the other one below her bottom.
"You have such big beautiful hands." She moaned into his ears.
Sherlock didn't move a muscle. His eyes were fixed on hers, trying to figure out her code.
Jennifer continued to massage his hands against her body, encouraging him. "Take me, Sherl!"
Sherlock didn't do anything. He just sat there, looking into her eyes. She was complicated and was definitely hiding something.
Lydia was getting nervous, why wasn't he doing anything? She wanted to proof to herself that all men were the same, they would easily take advantage of a woman.
She was there, literally on his lap, serving her body to him but he didn't do anything.
A glimpse flashed through her eyes and Sherlock noticed.
Before he could say anything. John swung the kitchen door open, holding a tray of tea cups and variant teas. Startled by the intimate position the two were in.
They all froze, unsure of what to do. John carefully moved towards them and placed the wooden tray on top of the coffee table.
"Can I get some earl gray?" Sherlock asked as if nothing happened, his hands were still on her body.
"Four red fruits for me, please, John." Lydia smiled.
John placed the tea bags into the cups filled with hot water. John coughed and eyed the two suspiciously, "What is going on exactly? Have you two met before? Are you two long lost lovers who found each other?"
"No, this woman is Lydia Fitzgerald, she's a liar and a con-artist. She's here because my brother sent her here."
"For what? To spy on you?" John scoffed.
"No, she's a client." Sherlock, finally let go and she moved away, sitting back down on the client's chair.
"You do know that I'm right here, right? I haven't left." She piped in and put her hands on her hips. Damn, Sherlock was good. He figured it all out like solving an easy puzzle.
"How did you know? No one is that fast to see through my disguise." Lydia êtes him while she sipped the hot tea.
"He's Sherlock Holmes." John face palmed, feeling some kind of sentiment since he really thought that she was their fan.
"No, not exactly a John. Because she looks familiar..." Sherlock immediately sat up and took his laptop, typing hastily. Searched in the word 'Fitzgerald'.
"I'm guessing you're searching up for me but since you're the magnificent Sherlock Holmes; why don't you read me instead?"
Sherlock tore his eyes away from the computer screen and clasped his hands together. "You're in your late twenties. 29, I assume. Quite y'all, taller than John."
At that John nearly spit the tea directly at Sherlock.
"You're slim and slightly on the athletic side. Fiery red hair and it's practically glowing. Thick and luscious. Less than 2% of the world's population has red hair. However, yours is even rarer than that. As I mentioned, you're a skilled con-artist, who is very good at lying and concealing her true self."
He paused and moved closer, moving his face closer to her and sniffed. "I smell spices. A lot of spices, you've been traveling. The last place you've been was somewhere in Asia, Singapore I assume. Based on the seafood smell and thick smog that's like a second layer on your hair. Also the slight dark under eye bags explains it. You reminds me of a panda."
"That's it?" Lydia laughed. Her eyes traveled down to his lips for one second.
"Yes, you're still a mystery to me. Why you're here, I do not know." Sherlock leaned away, she got up and closed the laptop with a loud clack.
"If you're so good, you didn't need to search for me."
Lydia walked around and studied the scruffy apartment. It was homely and basic, no one would suspect a great genius living under this roof.
She noticed a yellow spray can on the corner of a low coffee table. "Oh, lovely. Do you do graffiti?"
"No, we've finished our last case. The Blind Banker." John proudly stated, sipping on his tea.
John mentioned her empty spot on the chair, "Would you like to sit down and tell us your problem, miss Fitzgerald?"
Lydia didn't listen. She sprayed the yellow paint over the black and white gothic wallpaper. Creating a smile.
John almost jumped from his chair to stop her, "Please, do not do that."
"No, John. I actually like it." Sherlock stopped him and gave her a satisfied nod.
Lydia started to walk towards the door, opening it and said, "I have a case for you. I need you to protect me, I am in grave danger and I'm trying to hide my identity. Do not search me up or try to find informations about me."
Lydia tossed Sherlock's phone back to him and he caught it with ease. "You already have my number on your phone.
She turned to John, "Thank you for the lovely tea, John! I hope that we'll meet again soon."
She winked before walking away, her red heels softly clacking on the wooden floor.
"How did she..." John started, looking at the spot where she recently was standing on.
"She's something else." Sherlock looked in admiration and respect. After all she was a woman living in an all men's world.
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