Sentiment {Sherlock BBC}

1. "Welcome to Baker Street"

"Hello Liz, nice to meet you." John Watson smiled at me.

"You too," I responded kindly.

"Thank you for taking this job, I've needed a receptionist." He sighed.

"No problem," I responded.

"Alright, I'll let you get to it then," He walked back to his office, and I sat at the front desk. I'll admit, this wasn't a job I'd go and brag about to my University friends, but it paid the bills, and Dr. Watson said there's a flat in his building for rent on Baker Street.

After our work day, I followed John out to a cab.

"I live with a man; you may have heard of him, Sherlock Holmes." He began.

"Oh, you're gay?" I asked curiously.

"Wh-no. I see why you may think that. I should've started that differently. He's a friend of mine," John elaborated.

"Oh, that's alright, I shouldn't have assumed, sorry," I said leaving an awkward silence to fill the cab. It stayed silent until we reached Speedy's Café, next to it was a door reading 221B.

"Welcome to 221B Baker Street," John said as we climbed out of the cab. I followed him inside to be greeted by an older woman.

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson. This is Liz; she'd like to stay in 221C." John smiled.

"Oh, well it'll need some remodeling."

"I'm good with that sort of thing," I responded, a warm smile on my face.

"Lovely. Are you two-?" she asked motioning to us.

"No. No, I'm his receptionist," I said taking a look inside the flat.

"There's no furniture yet, Liz. You can stay in my room; I'll take the couch in Sherlock's flat. You and I can get some furniture tomorrow." John offered.

"Works for me. Are you sure about the bed, though? I can stay on the couch."

"Ah... I think you should meet Sherlock first. Then you can decide," John smirked and my eyebrows furrowed together as I followed him up the stairs and to a room with the door wide open.

"Sherlock?" John called.

"In the kitchen." I heard a deep voice. I followed John into the messy flat and around the corner to see a man with dark curly locks peering into a microscope.

"Who's your friend?" Sherlock asked, not looking from the microscope.

"Liz. She's my new receptionist." John said standing across the table from Sherlock. I stayed in the walkway to the kitchen, leaning against the wall.

"You were in that desperate need of a job," Sherlock smirked as he looked up from his microscope and locking eyes with me. They were an ice blue and they were lighter with the light from the lens.

"Kinda," I responded, and John eyed me, but I smirked at him. Sherlock stared at me and shook his head a moment later when he realized I noticed.

"I don't mind if you stay on the couch, you could stay in my room if you'd prefer a bed." Sherlock offered. John looked at him with raised eyebrows, and I shrugged.

"The couch works for me." I nodded looking at John.

"Alright well, I'm off to bed. Goodnight, and I'll be seeing you in the morning." John said to me.

"Goodnight." I smiled. He walked out of the flat, and I turned to Sherlock.

"He likes you, you know?" Sherlock asked. I shifted uncomfortably. "Don't worry; you wouldn't be the first to reject him. Don't feel bad," he added standing up and walking to a leather chair in the living area. "You can take a seat if you'd like?" He asked motioning to the chair in front of him. I slowly sat down and eyed the man before me. He dressed extremely well and looked extremely handsome it baffled me. He still was staring at me.

"Something wrong?" I asked watching his eyes dart along my body.

"No, I just... can't... read you?" he said as more of a question.

"Read me?" I asked.

"Yes." He responded.

"How can you read someone?" I asked intrigued.

"It's quite simple. I observe everything. From what I observe, I deduce everything. When I've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how mad it might seem, must be the truth. Like with John, how could I tell he liked you? He offered you a job, then the exact same day he offered you the flat downstairs, a way to keep you close? More than likely. He then brought you up here to meet me, his flatmate. Clearly, he wants my approval, or he would've tried keeping you a secret from me. However, the fact he brought you to meet me was to see if you really do like him, which sadly I'll have to inform him you are not interested." Sherlock said.

"How do you know I'm not interested? I haven't even gotten to know him."

"You avoided staying in his bed. Instead, you'd stay with a complete stranger." He smirked.

"I've already gotten to know you more," I pointed out.

"You don't know anything about me." He replied.

"You're Sherlock Holmes. The world's only consulting detective. And you study tobacco ash?" I accidentally turned my last statement into a question. Sherlock noticed all my "deductions" of him were based on the fact he left his website, The Science of Deduction, up on his laptop and I read it over when he was deducing me.

"Nice try," he commented. "You had me there for a moment." He said walking over to his laptop and closing it.

"Thank you," I responded as I sat on the couch. "Can you tell me anything about myself?" I asked him. He turned to look at me, and he looked at me again.

"No... It's annoying." He said walking off to the kitchen.

"I don't need a pillow, or a blanket, thanks for offering," I mumbled taking off my jacket and bundling it up under my head.

_______________________________________________________

This story is starting off around the second episode of the first season... I think haha. :) Let me know what you think! :)