Chapter One: Meeting the Great Mind, Sherlock Holmes.

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Smoked filled the room, the room of this so called genius. You couldn't see anything, waving my hand around so I could at least breathe. Coughing, my eyes shutting. "Dear God, what did he do this time." Watson hissed out, holding the door open. He pulled a chair to leave the door ajar, to air out the room. 

I started to wonder around the room aimlessly, that was until I bumped into someone, "John?" I questioned, patting down his chest. He grabbed my hand and placed a piece of wet cloth in my hand.

"Here you go, darling. Don't want smoke fill up you lungs now, do we?" It wasn't Dr. Watson's voice, whose voice was this. I took the cloth and placed it over my mouth. It became easier to breathe, I went towards the end of the room. Walking there felt like an eternity. I managed to find the window, unlocking it; the smoke finally clearing out. I pulled the cloth down and looked out to a chair. There he was, Sherlock Holmes, just staring at me.

"I'll make you some tea, sir." I spoke softly to him, he was holding his gun; nothing came out of his mouth. I went over to the fire to hang a kettle over the fire. I picked up the dirty teacups. I went over to the bowl of water, picking up a cloth and washing them. He kept staring at me, like I was doing something wrong. Watson came up behind me, cleaning the teacups with me.

"He just needs to warm up to you," He smiled, looking at me with those green eyes of his. I felt sorry for Dr. Watson, after his marriage with Mary fell apart; he went back to work full time, working over-time, also helping out with this lune. I stared back down, continuing to wash the dishes. "Look at the paper and pick a case. You need the money to pay Mrs. Hudson for rent." Watson recalled to Holmes, who just kept continuing to stare.

Watson looked at me and gave me a soft, gentle smile, "It will take time, I swear." I laughed and got the kettle from the fire place, to pour into the teacups. I placed oolong leaves into the cups, when I started to scream. The shards of the teacup went everywhere. The beautiful blue cup with a gold rim, distorted by a gun fire. My hand covered my heart, grabbing the top of my dress. I looked over to Sherlock, to see the gun that he was holding had smoke coming out. He just shrugged his shoulders.

"What the hell, Sherlock. You could have hit her!" Watson yelled, holing on to my shoulders as right after the shot was fired; he pulled me back, as protection.

"My finger slipped." Sherlock said, cocking his eyebrow with a slight smirk that ran across his face. I stared at him, my eyes widened; how could he fire a gun so carelessly.

He got up from his chair and walked over towards where I was standing. I clenched my heart even more, dear God, what does he want. Sherlock grabbed one of the teas and started to drink it, he did what he kept doing; staring at me.

"Your new toy, Watson?" He asked casually.

"Excuse me?" I snapped back at him.

"Holmes, how can you say that?" Watson yelled back also.

Holmes just stood there, taking another sip of tea, looking at both at Watson and I, like he was confused, "What?"

Watson huffed out in frustration, "Just figure out what case to take on, alright?" Watson grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Holmes. Watson pulled me over to the lovely couch, floral designs. "Sit here," Watson spoke to me, motioning me to the floral couch.

"You still haven't introduced me to your," He motioned his hand towards me, looking around the room and then our eyes met, "Friend."

"Holmes," Watson spoke out, sitting down right next to me; our hands slightly touched. I jerked my hand away and placed it in-between my legs. "This is Olivia Teller. I met her while I was at work and we became good friends." He smiled and turned to me, I smiled back at him.

"Friends? You don't need anymore friends, Watson. Don't be silly." Holmes grabbed my hand, pulling me off the couch and pulled me to towards the door, "Thank you for the tea, but we don't need your service anymore." He gave me a sweet smile and with that left, he slammed the door in my face. 

"Oh," Was all I could say, what an odd man he was. I guess the things they say about the great Sherlock Holmes is true.

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