LIKE SUN AND MOON | Sherlock x Fictional Character

1 - The First Meeting

First, he heard the footsteps. Gentle, but brisk. A moment later, someone knocked on the door and, hearing "come in", went inside. Sherlock, sitting in his chair with his eyes closed, pointed to the couch destined for clients.

He heard the sound of something being put down (Two suitcases? Interesting.), more footsteps, and finally the quiet creak of the couch. Then silence.

Strange. It was not typical for clients to stay quiet.

He kept his eyes closed, waiting. Seconds passed, but none of them said anything. The silence was only filled with the muffled sounds of cars coming from the street.

Finally, the detective signed.

'Tell him I don't need his help.'

'I have no intention of doing so.'

The voice belonged, as he suspected, to a woman. He liked the melody of the words, a result of an accent he did not manage to place yet. However, this was not the answer he was hoping for.

Sherlock opened his eyes to see a young and slim (approximately twenty-two years old) woman sitting cross-legs on his couch. Her short hair, cut like for a boy, was brown, as well as her eyes and slightly pointed ears which gave her an elfish look. Her face was long and covered with freckles. She was wearing an almost all-black outfit of shirt and pants, with heavy boots on her feet. She fixed her gaze on the detective.

They were looking at each other for a while like it was a staring contest.

Sherlock, dressed as usual in a suit, did not move, his face surrounded by dark curls. His bright blue eyes, seemingly able to read somebody's mind, were fixated on the unusual guest of his. He was now sure, this was not just another client.

Finally, the woman broke the silence

'So, you are this great Sherlock Holmes?'

She said it somewhat dismissively, apparently knowing full well that she was playing on his nerves. Sickly ambitious.

He put his hands together, still looking at her intensively.

'That's right. It wasn't that hard to guess, was it? Now it's my turn to guess. Although, it has little to do with guessing.'

'Aside from the fact that you know who I am, where I worked, that I walked here from the nearby cafe, where I had my lunch, and that I got this expensive perfume, that I couldn't possibly afford, from my sister, I'm curious to see what else you be able to deduce.

Sherlock did not move. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, that he was a bit surprised. And amazed? But he did not show it.

'Two little cats.'

'Even three.'

'One sister. A dancer.'

'A dancer.'

'Your parents are dead.'

'It's been ten years now.'

'And so your sister raised you.'

'I raised myself. While living at my sister's.'

'You worked for in an editorial office.'

'For a while. It was boring.'

'You write with a fountain pen.'

'I don't mind my hands getting dirty with ink.'

'You're a perfectionist.'

'And a hard worker.'

'A detective.'

'But a beginner. And that's why I'm here.'

She stood up and made some steps towards the window, looking around the room.

It was not that big, but certainly more cluttered than any other room she had ever seen before. Between two large windows stood a desk, stacked with papers and random objects. Photos, newspaper clippings, drawings, some documents, and sheets of music covered with notes. In between all this mess, there were also mugs more or less filled with tea. Opposite the old couch, she was sitting on before, was a fireplace with two armchairs in front of it, facing each other.

A shadow crossed the girl's face. So this is where Sherlock usually sat with his best friend John Watson.

'I know very well the real reason why you're here.'

Sherlock also got up from his chair and walked over to the desk.

'That's not the only reason, though.'

He raised his eyebrow.

'He is just worried. And I need a teacher. And who could be a better teacher than Sherlock Holmes himself?'

She glanced at him. Sherlock was now facing the window, and her words seemed to have little to no effect on him.

'I don't like working with people.'

He reached for his violin, suggesting that this was the end of the conversation. But she was not ready to give up just yet.

'That's the first thing we have in common. I must consider myself lucky you're so inhuman, otherwise I wouldn't be able to stand you.' He did not acknowledge her joke, but she continued anyway. 'And I know you need someone to talk to since Mrs. Hudson took your skull again.'

She nodded in the direction of an empty spot on the mantelpiece where a human skull normally lay. Sherlock put down the instrument. How did she know about it?

'You don't know anything about me and want me to be your teacher?'

'I know more than you think.'

'John's blog?'

'That's not my only source. I know things about you that you wished I didn't, but I'm not going to tell you what. I don't want to be on the long list of people who told you  don't have a heart.' She put her hands in her pockets, now again staring straight into Sherlock's eyes.

'What if I decide you're not good enough to be a detective?' Sherlock came up closer. He was teller than her by almost a head.

She smiled lightly. She almost won.

'You won't get rid of me so easily. Even a psychopath like you won't be able to throw me out on the street.'

'Try me. And I am not a psychopath, but...'

'...A high-functioning sociopath... Yes, I know. I keep telling myself that, too. To explain to myself why I don't fit in. But, please, I really can't live a normal life. I need adrenaline, puzzles, killings... Just like you.'

He didn't say anything for a while, seemingly considering her offer. She made him curious. Like she's like another riddle. And another riddle means a new challenge. And he liked a challenge.

Besides, he needed an assistant. Although he never imagined the assistant to be a she. And he could tell that, although she was smarter than John, she was also more feisty and stubborn.

'I'd imagine the only way to get you to resign would be to physically force you to leave?'

She smiled, her eyes full of excitement.

'When do we start?'