Facades

Chapter Two

Over a period of many weeks and months, people are coming to 221B to consult with Sherlock. Each of them sits on a dining chair facing the fireplace as he or she speaks.

"My wife seems to be spending a very long time at the office,"

"Boring."

-

"I think my husband might be having an affair,"

"Yes."

-

"She's not my real aunt. She's been replaced – I know she has. I know human ash,"

"Leave."

-

"We are prepared to offer any sum of money you care to mention for the recovery of these files,"

"Boring,"

-

"We have this website. It explains the true meaning of comic books, 'cause people miss a lot of the themes," Sherlock is already walking away, disinterested.

"But then all the comic books started coming true,"

"Oh. Interesting,"

Later, John is sitting in his armchair and updating his blog again. He has titled the entry 'The Geek Interpreter.' Sherlock leans over his shoulder, "'Geek Interpreter.' What's that?"

"It's the title,"

"What does it need a title for?" John just smiles tightly as response and Sherlock straightens up, turning to the door as Mrs Hudson enters "you're happy," he comments

"Oh, yes!" she says excitedly "Someone's taking the flat downstairs!" Sherlock stares angrily, already imagining the terrible scenarios.

-

Over the next few weeks and months, the two continue to solve cases whilst attempting to figure out who was moving in

"She's got people walking in and out of there!" Sherlock spits, sitting angrily in his chair as John looks up from his paper.

"Who?"

"The woman!" he gestures down the stairs and John nods, smirking.

"'The woman' who's going to be our neighbour, and who neither of us have spoken too, or know anything about," John sighs, giving his best friend a tired look.

-

They're at the morgue at St Bartholomew's Hospital. Sherlock is using his magnifier to look at a woman's body lying on the table. John is standing at the other side of the table and Detective Inspector Lestrade is nearby.

"Do people actually read your blog?"

"Where d'you think our clients come from?"

"I have a website,"

" In which you enumerate two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash," Nobody's reading your website. Sherlock straightens up and glares at him, then pouts momentarily as John continues to look at the body.

"Right then: dyed blonde hair; no obvious cause of death except for these speckles, whatever they are..." He points at the tiny red marks on the woman's body but Sherlock has already turned and flounced out of the room.

Later, back at the flat, John is updating his blog again. Sherlock walks past eating a piece of toast. He stops and looks at the title for this entry.

"Oh, for God's sakes!" he says with a mouthful

"What?"

"'The Speckled Blonde'?!" John purses his lips as Sherlock walks away again.

"Apparently, the people were coming in and out because the new occupant's getting rid of the mould Mrs Hudson's always complaining about," John mentions briefly and Sherlock huffs, collapsing on the sofa.

-

Two little girls are sitting together on one of the dining chairs while Sherlock paces in front of the fireplace.

"They wouldn't let us see Granddad when he was dead. Is that 'cause he'd gone to heaven?"

"People don't really go to heaven when they die. They're taken to a special room and burned," The two girls look at each other in distress and John sighs, muttering a small 'Sherlock'

-

"You two still haven't spoken to her?" Mrs Hudson says in shock as she makes tea in the kitchen.

"We've just been busy" John says off-handily as Sherlock says something different

"Why would I want to?!"

"Oh Sherlock, you'd better not be horrible to her!" Mrs Hudson sighs "She's a lovely girl," Sherlock rolls his eyes in annoyance.

-

More cases piled up and Sherlock kept solving them, meaning the press became more interested. A hand with bright red nail polish flattens a paper with Sherlock's face on, her other hand in on her phone "I think it's time, don't you?"

"I'll give him a call," The other woman is wearing the same leather jacket, and she uses her keys to enter home, walking down the hallway. She hangs up and an elderly woman comes out of a door.

"Oh, Luna! You're finally moving in?"

"Just a few bits and bobs to do, then you won't be able to get rid of me Mrs Hudson," She smiles, but her eyes glint with mischief even Sherlock wouldn't have noticed.