Hello Detective

A Study in Pink Part 2

Almost a month had passed before I was able to find a decent apartment or flat as they say here. It was in central London on Chippenham road. It was clean, quaint, cute, and most importantly: cheap. It was semi furnished when I got there, but I had already bought new furniture to fill it up. Not all of my boxes had arrived yet, but they should before the week is out.

After lifting boxes and furniture all day I was exhausted. I decided to get cleaned up and find somewhere to eat. Just around the corner from my flat I found a small sandwich bar and cafe: Speedy's. I walked in and sat down at a small table. I scrolled through my phone and read emails until I noticed someone approach your table. I figured it was the waiter so I put my phone down.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked. He was tall, had brown curly hair, and a long dark coat.

"Uh, nope." I said with a small smile.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said, "I'm looking for a flatmate."

"What makes you think I don't already have a flat?" I asked, intrigued with how forward this man was.

"You're not from around here, obviously. You're from the states, a big city, Chicago, New York. No, it was New York. You obviously know no one here because if you did you would know that Speedy's isn't the best choice in dining. You moved here for your job. Something sedentary, from the looks of your hands it involved doing a lot of writing and typing. So I'd say some kind of receptionist or personal assistant. But why would a receptionist be relocated to another country? Because you aren't a receptionist. You're a doctor or detective who finally got their big break and earned a promotion." He said calmly, almost trying to impress me.

"How'd I do?" He asked, wanting to know that he got everything right about me.

"Well. Very well Mr. Holmes. I mean, you managed to miss everything important but..." I said.

"How do you mean?" He asked, intrigued by me. He knew I was right. He had trouble reading me, he could only tell that stuff from my clothes and hands. There was something about him that made me so interesting to him, and he couldn't take his eyes off me.

"You're looking for a flatmate. If you were really as good as you think you are, you would already know that I've been lifting boxes all morning because I already have a flat." I said matter-of-factly.

"Of course." He said squinting with his hands together, resting on his lips. He sat there for a minute, deep in thought.

"Adelaide. By the way." I said breaking the silence.

"What?" He asked, snapping out of it.

"My name. It's Adelaide Gregson if you were wondering." I said awkwardly.

"Adelaide," he repeated, "Brilliant."

Suddenly my phone rang and I read the caller ID: Greg Lestrade.

"Sorry, I've got to take this, work." I explained. He nodded and went back to thinking.

"Hello, Adelaide this is Greg Lestrade from Scotland Yard. I was just calling to make sure you were coming in tomorrow." Greg asked.

"Yes, I am." I reassured him.

"We're getting wind of a case so we can't wait to see you." He said.

"Tell Lestrade he's wrong." Sherlock said.

"What?" I asked, covering my phone. I was confused as to how he knew Lestrade and how he could hear our conversation.

"Tell Lestrade he's wrong about the case. They aren't suicides." He said again.

"Um, Sherlock says that you're wrong. They aren't suicides." You said awkwardly into the phone.

"He's made his opinion clear. Wait, how do you know Sherlock?" Greg asked confused, or maybe worried.

"Oh, we only just met. I'll be in tomorrow." I said.

"Ok, we have a press conference at 9 and I want you to be there. I'll fill you in after." Greg said once more.

"Ok, sounds great, I'll be there." I said, hanging up.

"How do you know Lestrade?" I asked Sherlock.

"You tell me." He said, testing me. I bit my lip and started examining him.

"You work with him on occasion, but not in an office. You don't play well with others. That could also be the reason you don't have a flatmate. You're a detective, but only work with the police when consulted. You work best alone. I can imagine a consulting detective with no source of income isn't the best way to pay the bills. So your family has money. You live close to here, maybe next door. You don't get out much, except when on a case. You don't eat much, you see it as a distraction from what's really important. You haven't had a flatmate in a while, but I bet you'll find one soon. You were on your way out to a hospital or lab when you noticed me coming in here so you decided to follow me, because I intrigue you. So I think theres someone expecting you at the morgue, and you might not want to skip it. You're desperate for a case. I bet I'll see you tomorrow anyway, you don't look like the man to miss a good murder." I said. Sherlock's eyes seemed to pop. He was completely mesmerized by me, but of course he'd never show it.

He stood to leave but turned around with a smile on his face. "It's too bad you already have a flat. Baker Street could use another me. Catch you later." He said, leaving.

"Wouldn't miss it." I said smiling and ordered my food.