Sherlock Holmes and The New Detective

For God's Sake, Mrs.Hudson!

Mrs.Hudson walked up the stairs into Sherlock's flat where he was looking at photographs from his solved cases that were hung on the wall. "Sherlock, dear, there's a lady outside who's been waiting for about twent....."

"Mrs.Hudson I am busy", Sherlock stated without looking away from the photographs on the wall.

"But Sherlock..."

"Mrs. Hudson, I told you", he turned around and looked at her. "I'm. Busy."

When he knew she finally got the message, he turned back around to the photographs and heard her walk back downstairs. A few minutes later, when Sherlock still had found nothing, he heard the door to his flat open.

"For God's sake, Mrs.Hudson!" But while he turned around to scold Mrs.Hudson, because he wanted to play Cluedo but there was no one to play with him which made him angry already, and Mrs. Hudson added into the equation only made him annoyed, he was shocked to see a woman his age staring back at him. The woman looked at him then at a note down in her hand, then back at Sherlock.

"221 B Baker Street?" She asked, confirming the address.

"Yes. Why are you here? If it's going to be a waste of my time, please leave."

She disregarded his last statement. "What's your name?" She started to look at the photographs behind him.

Sherlock studied her as she walked around the room. She looked at everything, referring back to her note every minute.

Words floated around her head as Sherlock was figuring out who she was.

She smells like all types of flowers, so at first you would think a gardener, but she has absolutely no dirt anywhere. Not even a smudge. Florist. She is wearing running shoes and still has a bit of sweat on the back of her neck. Judging by the time and her fit structure, she just went to the gym after her shift. She obviously took a cab here since she had to confirm the address with me and because the only thing she has is a coat, her clothes, and that little piece of paper in her hand. If she had a purse and put her keys in it, that would make sense, but since she doesn't have a purse her keys would have to be in her pocket. If there were keys in her pocket, every step would be accompanied by a jingling noise -- no noise, no keys. Even though she would have a house key, that would only be one key. It wouldn't be able to bang against anything else to make that noise. She didn't change after the gym, she's still wearing her black tights and tank top, and it wouldn't make sense if she went to the gym without a gym bag and changed afterwards. Dressed for the gym, didn't bring a bag, came here strictly after.

Her mother is dead. You can tell since she has a bracelet with a cross on it, that she has never taken off or went to the jewellers to get cleaned-- you can see this by the way it has an odd colouring to it. It's no longer completely silver but is slowly turning more and more brown each and every day. If you never took a bracelet off it would be because it has great significance and meaning to you, and no one is more important to you than your mother. It also says 'from Dad. May she never be forgotten' on the side. Some things are obvious, you just have to look.

Her name starts with E, she's wearing an E necklace, and she has a little ESM tattoo on her wrist, her initials. Her shoes are worn, probably doesn't get much money from the florist job, and she has a coat that looks aged. The way she stands-- tall and firm-- says she knows more than the average human, but her shoulders are bent slightly forward, like she doesn't want people to know what she's hiding. She looks back at me, like she is studying me, but she couldn't really get past the first, maybe second, layer. Job, prediction, mainly guessing.

"Sherlock Holmes", he replied intently. What was she hiding?

"Yes. Okay", she looked back down at her note. What was written on it?

"What's your case?" Sherlock pulled the chair out and set it in its usual spot where all the clients sit. She sat down gingerly. The poor girl didn't know who Sherlock was.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the floor, embarrassed and flustered. She bit her top lip and looked at Sherlock, "Case?" The poor girl didn't even know what was going on.

That was enough for Sherlock. The address, okay, a little weird, but she was holding a note. The name, questionable, but she was hiding something he wanted to find out, but that last question was just absurd. She didn't even mind her blushing face. She was embarrassed because she didn't know what she was doing and if you don't know what you're doing, you're not worth Sherlocks time.

"No," Sherlock stated.

"What?" The lady asked, still confused.

"Just no", Sherlock repeated himself. "You don't even know what you're doing here, you aren't in any way important, the only thing you are is a waste of my time. Not interesting."

Sherlock went back to examining the photographs, but was confused as he turned around after a few minutes and saw that she was still sitting there. Sherlock watched on as the brunette sat. She bit the inside of her cheek and studied the floor, wondering what she could say to keep her there. Then she started thinking, actual good thoughts that Sherlock would approve, and started thinking back to what intrigued him before. Why did that question make him suddenly so disinterested? Think, think. The most brilliant idea popped into her mind as she figured out how she was going to make sure she wasn't leaving.

"I think you'll find this interesting", she suspended the note out in front of her. To make it known that she was serious she added a, "Mr. Holmes", a few seconds afterward.

She watched as Sherlock walked around her and took the note from her hand, intrigued. As he read it, his attitude became friendlier. She had a good reason.
It said:

221 B Baker Street.
September 27.
2:20 PM.
Sherlock Holmes. Confirm.
2,5/20,8,5,18,5/15,18
5,12,19,5/25,15,21,18
12,15,22,5,4/15,14,5,19
23,9,12,12/2,5/11,9,12,12,5,4

Yes, she wasn't going anywhere.