Intellect. (A BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

Intellect- FOUR

Intellect.

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FOUR.

The passing days were rather pleasant for the inhabitants of both flats in 221 Baker Street.

Amy and Eleanor became fast friends, as you would have to do when sharing a flat with someone. Eleanor was funny and Amy was a pleasant cook.

Sherlock was shortly rid of his boredom when he had to collect Amy's belongings from her ex-boyfriend's house. He left him a rather rude note, and simply signed it 'SH'. Sherlock also took pleasure in sifting through her belongings between trips back to 221.

John had been working shifts, but between those he had checked Amy for broken bones and internal injuries. Finding she had neither, he too was happy.

Mrs Hudson, though she presides in neither flat, was happy because of Sherlock's lack of boredom; it meant no new bullet holes in the walls.

But at that present moment, all hell was about to break loose in 221B. Amy had found her voice again from one small comment made by a Mr Sherlock Holmes.

'I do wish you'd tidy up every once in a while Sherlock; Pigsties are cleaner,'

'Yes, well, while you may keep a flat to the hygiene levels of someone who has serious Cleanliness-OCD, I do not. I'm not a very tidy person. Cleaning is mundane and dull,'

'Oh, so I have OCD then do I?'

'A strong form of it, yes,' Sherlock muttered offhandedly.

'Sherlock, I'd quit now if I were you,' John warned, but Amy and Sherlock both ignored him.

Amy scoffed, 'You're one to talk! How you analyse everything like it's the most important piece of information the world will ever see!'

'You never know- it COULD be the most important piece if information the world has ever seen. If it's not- then my mind deletes it,'

'S-sorry, what? Your mind... Deletes unimportant memories?'

'And information yes. My mind is a machine and this,' Sherlock pointed to his head, 'Is my hard-drive. I only keep things in there that are useful. Really useful,'

'...You are a freak! Comparing yourself to a computer! Computers are organised. You are nothing like that!' Amy shouted back with force.

The pair argued for quite a while longer, their voices raising so loudly you could hear them streets away.

Eventually, Mrs Hudson had walked the stairs to find out what was going on.

'TWELVE TIMES IN TWO DAYS I'VE ALMOST FALLEN OVER THOSE LETTUCES! AND THE PINEAPPLE STINKS!' Amy bellowed at the top of her lungs.

'THEY'RE EXPERIMENTS! THEY'RE THERE FOR A SCIENTIFIC REASON!' Sherlock bickered back in the same tone.

'AND WHAT REASON'S THAT, THEN? A REACTION EXPERIMENT? "SEE HOW PEOPLE REACT WHEN THEY FALL ON THEIR FACES AFTER TRIPPING OVER A ROTTEN LETTUCE"?!'

'What's going on?' Mrs Hudson asked John and Eleanor.

'They've been like this for half an hour. Bickering about the cleanliness if this flat,' John provided the answer, trying desperately to be heard over the racket of Sherlock and Amy.

'It's bugged her since Monday,' Eleanor added, as it was now Saturday. 'He's right, though. She does have a touch of OCD. Keeps a very clean house,'

'Well, then, would she be interested in being the housekeeper of this flat? Only because Sherlock keeps treating me like one, and in my old age...' Mrs Hudson trailed off.

'I think that would be a wonderful idea, Mrs Hudson,' John said happily.

'Hear that, dear? You can be the housekeeper here. How does that sound?' Mrs Hudson asked Amy.

Amy diverted her attention from the raging Sherlock before her and looked at Mrs Hudson. 'That sounds like a splendid idea,'

'But-' Sherlock protested, but he was interrupted.

'Wonderful. Then it's settled. Amy can start on the flat whenever she likes,' The dear old landlady said cheerfully.

Sherlock stood dumbfounded in the centre if the living room as people drained from the flat, leaving only John and himself. It was hard for him to grasp what just happened.

John walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'You should've stopped when I'd told you to,'

'Yes. Yes I really should have.' Sherlock murmured, and sank into his sofa.

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Short but necessary!