Back To The Start (Sherlock fanfiction #Wattys2016)

Chapter One: Abigail Meets Sherlock

Abigail Watson hugged her arms close to her body to keep her warm in the nipping wind of London, England. She quickly walked through the door of Speedy's Café and sighed in relief as the warmth of the café hit her. She walked up to the counter and ordered her normal coffee.

Abigail stood and waited for her coffee. The door to the café opened and closed, sending a cool breeze Abigail's way and causing her to shutter.

The new customer did not walk up to the counter and order anything, but walked straight to another customer who was already sitting down. He sat across from the other customer.

"Nothing to eat?" Greg Lestrade asked.

"I don't eat," Sherlock Holmes replied. "Especially not when I'm on a case and judging by your urgency you have a case for me and it's very important."

Abigail couldn't help but look over her shoulder. The man who just walked in was back on to her and all she could see was his graying hair. She could, however, see Sherlock. His hands were folded in the prayer position and placed in front of his mouth as Lestrade spoke.

"Brutal murder," Lestrade told him. "Three counts of it. We have someone in custody for it, but I don't think he's the one who did it."

"Let me guess, Anderson arrested him?"

"Yes."

"Idiot," Sherlock muttered. "I'll take the case. It seems like an easier one. I'm sure I'll have it finished by tomorrow."

Lestrade sat for a moment before nodding and getting up to leave. Abigail turned away for a moment, pretending she didn't hear the conversation. Once the door opened and closed, causing her to shutter once again, she turned back to look at Sherlock. His eyes were now closed and he was very still.

Abigail didn't realize she had been staring until Sherlock's greenish-blue eyes opened and rested on her. She felt her heart leap out of her chest in a combination of embarrassment and another feeling. She wasn't quite sure what it was.

She and Sherlock ended up having a staring contest. They both stared at each other, neither wanting to break their gaze. It was like they were both in a trance that wouldn't be broken, until the cashier spoke up.

"Ma'am?" he asked in an annoyed tone. Abigail jumped and turned back to look at him. She apologized as she grabbed her coffee and went to go sit down. She made a point of passing by Sherlock's table, facing forward, but catching Sherlock still staring at her out of the corner of her eye.

"Sit with me."

Abigail stopped and turned to look at him. Sherlock now had his hands placed on the table. His eyes are still trained on Abigail.

"I'm sorry?" Abigail said, making sure she heard him right. Instead of replying, Sherlock nodded to the seat across from him where Lestrade was just sitting. Abigail hesitated for a moment before sitting down. Sherlock folded his hands in the prayer position again and continued to stare at Abigail. "What are you doing?"

"Deducing," he replied. He studied Abigail closely, taking in as much as he could about her.

"Deducing?" Abigail questioned. "What's that?"

"I study you and find out things. Things you'd never believe." Sherlock paused for a moment. "Like the fact that you're single, you have older siblings, you live on your own, you don't have a job, but you do some sort of writing, preferably on a computer." He stopped and looked back up into Abigail's eyes. "How much of that is right?"

Abigail sat in amazement before replying, "I don't write. I was just using a computer for some research."

"Hm, close enough."

"How'd you know all that?"

"You do not wearing a ring on any of your fingers and there's no indent from wearing a ring for a long period of time, which signifies that you have not been wearing a wedding band, engagement ring or any sort of ring in the past year or so. Your clothes are hand-me-downs, which means you're the youngest in your family. You look 20 something years old, which usually means you've just moved out of your parents flat and into your own. At this time of day, most people with jobs are working, but you're here by yourself getting coffee and planning to sit alone for God knows how long and there are marks on your arm to suggest you were leaning against a desk for a long period of time."

Abigail let out a chuckle as she stared at Sherlock in astonishment. "Wow. Brilliant."

"That's not what most people say."

"What do most people say?"

"Piss off."

Abigail laughed as Sherlock just smiled. Abigail took a sip of her coffee before saying, "I am single, I have two older siblings, I do live alone, but I've lived alone for 8 years. I'm 29. And I don't have a job. So, yes, you are correct on 4 out of 5 of those things."

Sherlock shrugged. "Well, nobodies perfect."

Abigail smiled and took another sip of her coffee. Sherlock seemed to study her again for another moment before saying, "Why don't you work with me?"

Abigail was so surprised by this sudden question that she nearly choked on her coffee. She put her cup down on the table and began to cough, trying to regain her breath. Sherlock just sat and watched her as she had her coughing fit. Once she finished, she regained herself and sat up.

"Sorry," she said. "That sort of surprised me. We just met and we barely know one another." Sherlock raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak. "Okay, you know all that about me but I know nothing about you. For all I know, you could be a psychopath."

"High-functioning sociopath," he replied. He leaned forward on the table to add, "Deduce me."

"What?"

"You heard me. You want to learn more about me. I want you to deduce me."

Abigail sighed. She knew she probably wouldn't get much of this right, but it was a start. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked Sherlock up and down, trying to figure out something. Something that was at least equivalent to what he deduced about her.

Her eyes landed on his fingers first. No ring and no indent. Not married. Then she noticed his fingers looked as if they were pealing or at least healing from being pealed. Smoker/ex-smoker. Her eyes then trailed to his clothes. He took pride in his appearance. His clothes seemed fancy. Upper class? No. Maybe about average class. And he took "cases", she remembered from the conversation earlier, which meant he had to be a private detective.

"You're not married, probably completely single if you're a 'high-functioning sociopath'. Your fingers are pealing which means you used to or still do smoke. That's a nasty habit, you know. Bad for you skin, bad for you health, bad for everything really. Your clothes are nice which means you must take pride in your appearance and you have to be about average class. And you're a private detective." Abigail paused to take in a deep breath. "How'd I do?"

Sherlock gave her a smile. "Consulting detective. Not private. But good. I am impressed."

Abigail smiled back, proud of herself. She only really got one thing wrong. At least, one thing he told her about. Abigail's smile soon faded as Sherlock got up and began to walk out of Speedy's Café. Abigail got up and stopped him at the door.

"Wait! I don't know your name or where we're meeting," she told him. Sherlock paused at the door and turned back to look at her.

"The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street. I expect you there in one hour," he said.

Abigail nodded and added, "The names Abigail Watson and I'll see you in one hour."