Anatomically Correct Heart

Oliver Kreisler

Eleanor sat, typing away at her computer, just as Sherlock awoke from his slumber. She sat in the far right corner of the couch, her feet crossed in front of her, resting on the coffee table.

"How are you feeling?" She asks.

He groans, sauntering over to her on the couch with his comforter in hand. He plops down beside her, resting his head on her thigh.

"It was nothing but a bad nightmare, alright?" She says, running a hand through his curls. 

"Can't they just..." He flourishes his hand in the air. "go away?"

"No, they're apart of human life, and being that you're a human, you're bound to get them," She explains.

"Human nature is completely and utterly terrible," he says. "That's why I'd much rather be a mere animal in the circle of life." 

"What sort of creature?" She asks, typing away at her computer.

"I've always liked bees," he mumbles.

"Bees?"

"What are you typing?" Sherlock asks, pushing himself up and leaning his head against her shoulder.

"Replying to an email," she says, moving it so he can see it. "Mr.Kreisler would like to have a chat with the famous Sherlock Holmes."

"How'd you get into my email?" He asks.

"Mycroft pulled a few strings," Eleanor says, typing the rest of the reply. "I tried to make it as conceded and intelligent as I could."

Before she hit send, Sherlock read the message:

Dear Mr.Kreisler,

I wold be delighted to aide you on the mystery of your two secretaries. My assistant, Eleanor, and I have discovered that Mrs. Nancy Pennington was not your secretary, but your personal "escort". However, some pieces of evidence are obscure and will be figured out immediately. If you have anymore secrets you'd like to hide from the police, please clarify them to myself and my assistant at our meeting at 11 o'clock in your office.

Candidly,

Sherlock Holmes

"I sound like I'm from the Victorian era!" Sherlock exclaims with a frown.

"Too late," She says, closing the laptop and pushing Sherlock off of her. "You need to get dressed. I'm sure Mr.Kreisler likes his detectives clothed, like me."

"Yes, I'm sure he likes them just like he likes his secretaries," Sherlock mumbles, getting up and shambling to his room.

"When did Sherlock Holmes get a sass?" Eleanor calls after him.

"Ever since you moved in!" He finds himself saying.

~

A house of glass.

Mr.Kreisler's office was just behind the very desk where they had found Penelope Jane, who was replaced by an older woman who wore a cat sweater. His desk was very organized, along with the rest of the room. Two rather large chairs sat in front of his desk, where Sherlock and Eleanor sat.

Oliver Kreisler was a handsome man. His dark brown hair was styled back very professionally. His skin was a very neutral tan, with no flaws. His eyes were a dark blue, sparked with the flame of industry. He was a very built man, by the way his suits formed to his physique perfectly. He eyed Eleanor a lot, which angered Sherlock.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Holmes," he says, reaching his hand across the desk to shake Sherlock's hand. "And you as well, Mrs..."

"Miss Morton," Eleanor says.

"Ah, very well," he says, eying Eleanor again.

"Now, would we stop the friendly banter and get to the murder?" Sherlock asks.

"Oh.. um, of course," Mr.Kreisler says.

"Is there anything you'd like to add to what we already know, Mr.Kreisler?" Eleanor asks.

"Please, call me Oliver," he says.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Enough with the pleasantries. We already know you hired Nancy Pennington as an escort. Did Penelope see you two so you had to take her out?"

"Er, no." Oliver says. "Yes, Nancy and I were seeing each other, but I didn't kill Penelope."

"Did you have some sort of ruffle with her, then, Mr... er, Oliver?" Eleanor asks.

"As a matter of fact, yes, we did," he says. "Nancy wanted to get married- I told her I couldn't until the end of the month, for insurance purposes, that's all. She stormed off and that's the last I heard from her." 

"Then why was she killed?" Eleanor thinks out loud.

"My thoughts exactly," Sherlock says. "Mr.Kreisler, do you have anymore information you'd like to withhold from us?" 

"No, don't think so," he says.

"Very well, we'd be off then," Sherlock says.

Before either of them could get up, Mr.Kreisler stood and handed Eleanor a card. "I'd like to talk more, Miss Morton. You seem to be a very interesting woman."

Sherlock looked at Mr.Kreisler admiring Eleanor, then looked away with a glisten in his eye.

"Yes, my boyfriend seems to think that too," Eleanor says, grabbing Sherlock's arm. "We'll be in contact, Mr.Kreisler!" She drags Sherlock out of the room.

"Do all..." Sherlock begins, then stops.

"Do all what?" Eleanor asks.

"Do all men lure at you that way?" He finally asks as they enter the elevator.

Eleanor looks at Sherlock like he's just announced he's an alien from Pluto. "Most men do. There are a select few that don't."

"Who?"

She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and looks at the ground. "The gay ones; the uncaring ones; the ones who say I'm not their type; others."

"Anyone in particular?" Sherlock asks.

"Erm, John, I suppose. He's married," she says, racking her brain of all the men she's been in contact with. "Sebastian's gay, Lestrade is marries- or at least he likes to believe he is... and you."

"Me?" Sherlock asks as the elevator doors open. They walk out of the elevators and make their way through the lobby. "What's wrong with me?"

"Has anybody ever told you how awkward you are?" She asks. 

"Awkward?" He asks.

"Normally, a guy doesn't ask why men like to look at women, unless their less than 10 years of age," Eleanor explains.

"Consider me the latter," he says.

"I suppose so," she mumbles to herself.

~