A Wolf On Baker Street

John Watson: Certified Doctor

John watches as she deduces immense amounts of information from him and Sherlock. He then looks at Sherlock and sees frustrated puzzlement on his face. Could it be the Sherlock has met someone smarter than himself?

"So... I'm John Watson, and I bunk with that psycho there." John says.

"I know," the woman responds, "and he's not a psychopath. He's a high-functioning sociopath. Though that can be taken either way. And you," she says pointing at Sherlock, "must be the infamous Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective. Best friends with John Watson though you would never admit it. You're ambidextrous, don't care much for personal hygiene, haven't eaten or slept in a few days, and you just finished a case. And am I right about the sociopath comment?"

John stares at her in awe. No one has ever been able to deduce that much about Sherlock in one look.

"Yes. You are." Sherlock answers slowly.

"Good. I enjoy being correct," she gives a lazy smile that doesn't reach her eyes, "I suppose you want to know who I am since you obviously aren't coming up with anything and I seem to know everything about you?"

"I suppose." John says.

"Then keep wishing." She says rudely, "now get out. I'm busy."

"Doing what?" Sherlock has the nerve to ask. A mocking smile pulls her lips back from her teeth.

"I'm busy trying to resonate concrete. Now go away." And she turns her back to them, pulling out the strange instrument again and begins to scan the bare wall again. After a few minutes she pauses, "I haven't heard you leave yet."

"Because I have no intention of doing so," Sherlock replies.

"Well you can keep waiting, sunshine. I ain't gonna give you anymore information."

"What are you doing with that wall?" Sherlock asks.

"Scanning."

"Why?"

"Results."

"What's wrong with the wall?"

"Everything."

"Are you just going to answer with a single word?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not a real answer."

"Nope."

"And you're not going to give me one?"

"Negative."

"Why's everything wrong with the wall?"

"Cracks."

"Where? I don't see any cracks."

"Everywhere."

"What do you-"

"Look, I'm busy trying to identify whether there's a crack in this wall of not. You distracting me is not helpful."

"That was more than one word." Sherlock points out.

"No shit, Sherlock. Pun not intended."

"What pun? What do you-?"

She rounds on him, "JUST GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! Can't you see I'm busy?! If you're that curious, I go by the name Rose Tyler. Or at least here I do. Now, GO. AWAY."

Sherlock nods mutely. John watches the exchange with an amused expression on his face. But his amusement turns to fear when she turns to him.

"YOU! GET OUT! Or else you'll be needing a doctor! OUT!" She bellows. Making Sherlock and John scramble to get out of the apartment. When they reach their own flat, they look at each others white faces and burst out laughing in that giddy, relieved way.

"We'll, she's certainly something." John states.

"Yes she is, isn't she?" Sherlock muses, "John, I think I have just found my next case."

"And what might that be?"

"Who is Rose Tyler?"