221c - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Sherlock

It was at least two in the afternoon the next day, and I still had not moved off the sofa. I had no proper reason to. I wasn't going anywhere today. John had said that I had a new neighbor. Ugh. People. So boring and predictable.

There was a knock at the door. "Mrs. Hudson, for the fifth time, leave me alone!" I shouted, irate.

"I'm not Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock." Said a woman's voice, muffled by the door. She had a good singing voice, an alto, based on the tonality of her speech. She was most likely 25 to 27, and based on the level at which the voice came from, she was about 5'6", John's height. My new neighbor. "May I come in?"

"If you must." Much to my annoyance, she opened the door. I looked up. She was exactly how I thought she would be.

Her hair was a deep copper, and her eyes were so green they practically glowed. She had a face like a plover's egg. Quite pale and very freckled. She looked to be about 120 pounds. She was wearing a sage green jumper and dark wash skinny jeans. Her coat was tan.

"Hello, Sherlock. I'm your new neighbor."

"I know that."

"I know you do." She adjusted her coat, and I saw that her fingernails were painted an aggressive shade of cherry red. It made her pale, slender, piano playing hands look all the more colourless. "I just came to introduce myself. My name is Allison Cooper. I just moved to London."

"From where?" Now of course I was just asking this out of formality. I could tell by her accent that she was from the north, near the border of Scotland.

"I think you know that already, Mr. Holmes. And please, if you must shoot the wall to amuse yourself, please don't shoot the wall the wall that we share. I will do the same out of courtesy." I looked at her, confused.

"You shoot the walls?"

"Only when I'm bored. Which is pretty much always." And with that, she winked, and slipped out the door. This girl was interesting. Maybe she wasn't as average as I originally thought.

Two hours later, she appeared again. Without knocking. She just slipped into the kitchen. I heard the microwave running.

"Is yours broken?" I shouted to her.

"No."

"Then why are you using mine?" Why in the world would she use my microwave? This was not an average person move.

"Don't worry, I took your experiment out. I'm heating up my coffee."

"But why here?"

"I don't like being by myself all the time. It's dull."

"Oh I see. You're a people person." Those last two words I spat like they tasted bad.

"Nope." She said, popping the p. "I just need another brain. And one as high caliber as yours will do splendidly." She sauntered into my living room, casting off her shoes and plopping down in my chair. This lady was interesting. She stretched her feet out.

"Ballet?"

"Yeah. Fifteen years. Violin?"

"Yes. You play piano."

"And cello."

"Ah." She didn't say much after that, just sat and sipped her coffee quietly, her eyes closed. I noticed her eyes moving under the lids. Does she have a mind palace too? She seems clever enough. Not quite as clever as me.

An hour passed. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open sharply, and she stood up rather quickly. "You company has been splendid Mr. Sherlock Holmes, but I really must be off. Catch you later!" And with that, she swirled out the door, her red flats still lying on my floor.

I looked out the window. She was walking down the street. No shoes. I picked them up, and slipped on some of my own. I ran down the stairs and out the door, trying to catch up with her.