[COMPLETE] 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕨「Sherlock」

001; Mr. Holmes is a Noisy Neighbour

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IT WASN'T EVEN NINE IN THE MORNING WHEN JULIA had heard the great clamour coming from downstairs. The young woman had been washing up her aunt's bathroom, seeing as she had gotten little sleep the night before. From the next room, where Martha Hudson was resting upon the couch and drinking Julia's homemade blend of tea, the rosette heard a squeak of surprise. "Oh, that'd be Sherlock!" she mused.

Julia recalled that he was somewhat of an exuberant type, but she had never thought of him to be some sort of maniac who threw what sounded like cutlery across a room and into a wall. She paused her scrubbing and removed her plastic gloves, leaping up and wiping off her hands on the old rag she had been using. As hastily as she could, Julia bolted for the door, her heart up in her throat as she wondered if he could be shooting their dinner plates again.

In the meantime, her aunt called to her in her wry voice, "Oh, everything is probably fine!"

Julia, on the other hand, could not have her own fears sated by Mrs. Hudson's adjournment. She zipped down the stairs and headed for the door of 221B, clearing the space between her and the egress, and came charging in through the open flat entrance, her hair a blizzard of scarlet. "Mr. Holmes!" she roared, mortified as she saw that he had, indeed, tossed something against the wall. It was a box of something breakable, judging by the big red letters reading 'fragile' across the side. "What on earth are you doing?!"

He turned to her, dressed in rather formal clothing, a wide-eyed look upon his face and his lips stitched together in a flat line. Sherlock tilted his head as he leaned down to pick up the container. "I am seeing how hard one has to throw light-bulbs at a wall in order for them to shatter into millions of pieces. It's an experiment," he illustrated, speaking in such a nonchalant manner. John, by this time, as already plodded his way out of his bedroom, sleepy eyed.

"What's goin' on now?" he muttered, frowning.

Sherlock turned his head, dark curls bouncing lightly. He seemed to have already showered and gotten ready for the day. "Bored," he deadpanned, picking up the box, stepping back and launching it once more. This was such a random, and not to mention, illogical event. Julia could not wrap her head around it. The box collided with the wall once more at a high velocity and Julia cringed at the sound of broken glass filling the room.

Sherlock shouted this time. "Bored!"

"Don't just—"

John spoke up again, only this time not as dreamily. "Sherlock, you are scaring our guest!"

The detective turned to him and cocked his head. "Pity," he simply replied. Open-mouthed, Watson turned himself around and sighed heavily, sauntering over to the rather rigid young woman. He took her hand and then guided her gently to the kitchen, all while she gawked at the man in the next room. As soon as her feet hit the tile, she leaned against the table, facing through the large archway and ignoring the overhanging light and how it dug into her back.