Their footsteps matched as they marched on through the cobbled streets. It was the only sound emitted by them as they firmly made a point to say not a word to the other.
"Right, this is it.", Y/n said as she glanced up at a block of apartments where the young woman was said to be living.
Sherlock nodded and they ascended the five steps leading to the intercom. This part of town was quite quiet, with only the rustling of leaves and occasionaly traffic bleeding from the main road nearby punctuating this silence. The building was not too ancient but still seemed to date back at least from the eighties. Small flowers beds were at the bottom of it, with frail flowers fighting the slight cold of the season.
They rang for the caretaker or landlord/lady under the name Milton. Soon enough, they were buzzed into the entrance hall. It was all of cleant large white tiles with post boxes and mirrored surfaces on the right wall, lift and stone stairwell on the left wall. A few potted plants showed luscious green leaves with not even a speck of brown, proving they were indeed taken care of by an excellent hand.
A few paces before the metal elevator, a door opened, no doubt leading to the landlady's flat. She was approaching the early fifties, had brown eyes with pale blonde hair in a layered haircut. Her outfit consisted of an velvety ivy dress with a white and brown striped apron on top, stained here and there with what could be interpreted as tomato sauce, vinegar and flour.
Mrs Milton, judging by the aged diamond ring on her finger, smiled warmly and asked the pair, " 'Ello loves, what ya 'ere for?"
"We're here to visit Charlie Spencer's flat.", Sherlock replied casually with an assessing glance.
She narrowed her chocolate eyes, held on to her keys a little more firmly. "Are you the people from yesterday?"
"What do you mean?"
"Couple of men came round. Awfully rude, mind ya'."
Y/n frowned and shook her head, "No, we're the police.", showing at the same time her gleaming badge. This was probably the only way they could get into a woman's apartment without arousing too much suspicion. Mrs Milton must be aware anyways of what happened to one of the tenants.
"Tragic what happened, really.", she tutted a little with a sigh, "She was always having friends over that bairn. Well, come on. Be quick though, lots of things to do."
She guided them to the third floor and unlocked the apartment, leaving the keys with them until they were done.
Barely had they stepped in that a small, probably a year old cat came meowling towards them. It was a lean ginger one with what Y/n found to be cute little paws and soft whiskers. Its cushions padded against the walnut floor, almost calling out to them.
"Oh, she had a cat.", Y/n cooed at the animal. She bent down and caressed the cat softly through her leather gloves. Instantly, the feline begun purring and rubbing itself towards her whilst desperately calling out.
Meanwhile, Sherlock had begun ambling about, feeling the carpet, observing the couch, glancing at the computer's screen saver and other photographs the flat had. The windowsills had odd books place atop the other, risking sun damage; plaids were neatly folded in a cabinet next to the TV's and fragance sticks were scattered about.
Sherlock glanced downwards, then sniffed and shrugged. He moved on to the bookcase and studied a few of the books, mumbling, "Well, he'll be gone to the shelter soon."
He sighed as yet another book taken from the shelves was a modern romance. His finger dragged across the space left from the spines of the book, barely picking up any dust.
YOU ARE READING
SOCIOPATH'S ROMANCE // Sherlock Holmes x Reader
FanfictionY/n Baxter's life has always been full of unexpected and dangerous twists and turns, from her job at Scotland Yard to her past history and the cases she takes on along with a certain detective. Her enigmatic neighbour in 221B won't make that any di...
