Secrets (Sherlock)

My poor wall.

Quintessa POV

“BORED!” I yelled. I grabbed the biggest knife in the drawer, and hurled it full force at the wall. After about four years of living in this apartment, my wall is now riddled with bullet holes, dents and scrapes from broken plates and cups, and very deep slits from where the knives have hit. Well, it’s not my fault nothing interesting is happening.

I walk out of my apartment, my landlord and lady eyeing me curiously as I walk by. Stupid people. I felt like yelling ‘IT’S NOT MY FUALT EVERYTHING IS SO BORING!’ But I know better than that. I know they would kick me out for being to strange, but I know I have grown on them. The Tyler’s, that’s them. Good couple too.

Not knowing where I am walking, I find myself in the opposite side of town. Right before I turn around, I see a man carrying several too many shopping bags for one person. I walk over, and try to act like I am not a robot.

“Um- do you need some help with that?” I ask, pointing towards the bags. He smiles at me, and nods.

“That would be nice thank you,” I take a few bags, and I finally get a good look at him. He’s short, but not too short. His blonde hair is parted and neat, and he stands with perfect posture. Probably in the army. I notice he is quite strong, so that backs up my previous thought of him being a soldier.

“Afghanistan?” I ask, noticing his expression change dramatically.

“Y-yeah. How did you know?” he stuttered. I smiled.

“I noticed your posture and strength. My brother was in Afghanistan. Stupid prick never calls anymore,” I say, earning a chuckle from the man.

“You seem very alike to my room-mate. I’m John Watson, by the way.”

“Quintessa Wilder. Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson,” I said.

“How did you know I was a doctor?” he asked. I only smirked.

“I didn’t. So, where is your house?” I asked, looking around.

“Just up ahead,” he said. After a little more walking, we made it to a black door with a crooked knocker and matching gold numbers. 221B.

He opened the door, and I was met with a dark room, and a creepy looking staircase.

“Nice place you got here. Better than mine anyway,” I said. We walked up the stairs, and I heard a violin playing. I smiled. I have always been a sucker for violin music. I played a long time ago, but it has been years since I even touched one.

As we walked in, I saw a man facing a window in the corner of the room. Tall, dark curly hair. By the way he stands, he is confident. He ignores his roommate coming in, so he is arrogant in a way. He keeps playing, not letting us stop him. I follow john into the kitchen, and place his groceries on the table.

“Thank you for the help. Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“Um- sure. Do you have green tea?” I ask back. He nods, and turns to make some tea. I feel the footsteps behind me, so I spin around. I am met with the cold gaze of a pair of ice blue eyes. I stare back, and extend my hand.

“Hello, I am Quintessa. And you are?”

Doesn’t break eye contact, and walks around my to the fridge. He turns and opens the fridge wide, revealing a severed head. I chuckle.

“You must be very confident to show a severed head to a complete stranger. What, am I supposed to go running and call the police? Please, I have enough parts in my freezer to remodel a new Frankenstein. Now, I will repeat my question. Who might you be?”

He ignored my question again, and instead asked John.

“Bit quick to get a new girlfriend, john,” he said. His voice is deep, but has an underlying tone of smugness. All john does is scoff, and then hands me my tea.

“Quintessa was simply helping me with the groceries, Sherlock,” he said, as I took a long sip of the scalding tea.

“Well,” I start. “It would seem Sherlock here doesn’t like other people getting attention, now does he? By the tone of your voice, I would say that you think I’m not as smart as you. But, I seriously doubt that. When you just spoke to John, using no manners either, all he did was scoff. Which leads me to believe that you think of others as lesser than you, and are quite rude very often. But, don’t worry. My feelings are barely scraped. So, with that, I should get going. Thank you for the tea. Now, I should be getting back home. I have a wall to throw knives at.”

I smiled at the thought of maybe throwing knives, or shooting, some of my old books, and seeing how protective they are of my walls. I placed my half-full mug on the table, and make my way to the front door. I notice a smiley face spray painted on the wall, and several bullet holes in it. I smile at how much damage he has to do to even amount to my wall.

“You have a long way to go, Sherlock,” I mutter, as I leave the building. I look up at the window, and see Sherlock looking down at me, his face barely readable. Barely. You can still see a flash of surprise on his face, along with a flash of what looked like smugness. I gave him a small salute, and walked down the road, maneuvering my way through town to my house. But, I had the feeling I would be seeing them soon. Sooner than expected, too.