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Chapter 7 - A Study in Pink

 Kate: 

The next morning I’m not sure what to do. Sure, Sherlock gave me the address and what time to be there, but I'm not exactly sure what I should do in the meantime. I didn’t really have anything to pack, only some books, a laptop, phone, pocketknife, gun, ammunition, and clothes, all of which I could fit into a very small suitcase. I didn’t really have any furniture of my own. The furniture came with the small apartment.

Someone who is on the brink of becoming famous wants me to come and live with him, even though I've known him only for a few days.

What the hell happened?

Then I get a text on my phone. The message says:

HELLO

A bit of a creepy message, considering I don’t know who it’s from. Then I get another message:

THIS IS SHERLOCK

#20, YES? 

#20 is my flat number. How did he get my phone number and address? When he looked at my phone?

Then there’s a knock on my door. For some unknown reason, there’s no peephole in the door. I slowly walk to the door, one hand feeling for the pocketknife in the back pocket of my jeans just in case it’s not who I think it is.

I open the door a little bit.

“Hello Katherine, may we come in?” Sherlock asks.

“We?” I ask, opening the door more.

“Hello.” John says, standing on tiptoes so I can see him over Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Oh, sure. Come in.” I say, opening the door all the way.

Sherlock strides in, John follows him. Sherlock walks to the middle of the room in front of the couch and looks around. “Nice place.” He says.

“Really?” I ask.

The odd gray carpet with different shades like a quilt, the small kitchen with nothing but a toaster oven, old refrigerator, and sink with barely any room for the small counter. Next to the kitchen is a small table and two chairs, both wooden, both old, both in desperate need of repair. Not far from the table and chairs is a small, old couch, also in need of repair. Across from the couch is the bedroom and bathroom. Next to the couch, facing the door is a large window, with old, faded curtains with holes in them parted to face the back of a large, gray cement building. On all the walls in the living room are shelves with some old books that came with the flat, each of them I’ve read and are incredibly dull. It's as if the whole apartment was centered around the couch, of all things.

Leaned against the wall next to the door is my small, portable piano which barely works.

“Well…yes, sort of. Oh by the way-how do you feel about the violin?” Sherlock asks.

“How do you feel about the piano?"

Sherlock half-smiles.

“I occasionally play the violin, I was just wondering how you feel about it. So...you play the piano?"

“Yes.” I confirm.

“Well, you won’t be needing that fold-up thing there.” He gestures to the piano. “In the room where you’ll be staying there’s already a piano, a grand piano, but I think it’ll work for you, yes?”

“You have a grand piano?” John asks.

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson gave it to me, and I put it in the spare bedroom, where Kate-Katherine will be staying. I hope you don’t mind.” Sherlock addresses me on the last sentence.

“Oh, um…no, I don’t mind.” I say.

“Therefore, you won’t be needing that piano.” Sherlock says.

“Oh, it’s fine, I didn’t know what to do with it anyway.” I say. “It barely worked.”

He started to call me Kate...but then corrected himself and called me Katherine...why?

Well, I sort of signed up for this...might as well get used to Sherlock Holmes and John Watson now before anything else odd happens.