The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Christine Maryland *DISCONTINUED*

221b Baker Street

I sat in the middle of Sherlock and John. We were taking a cab back to Sherlock's flat; 221 Baker Street. I was moving in there for a short while until this case was solved. Sherlock didn't want me staying at the dorm in case the murderer comes after me.

However, I knew part of that was a lie.

Sherlock needed someone to accompany him, even at his flat, in order to think proper. Since John didn't live there anymore, Sherlock probably talks to some inanimate object to help him think.

I didn't want to point all this out to him because it would be a little rude and embarrassing for him, so I just nodded my head and agreed that would be for the best. I think better when I talk to people as well, so I don't blame him for wanting company, especially with someone that he shares a lot in common with.

What do we share in common?

Well, we both used the skills of an observer and used it to solve crimes, which we got a thrill out of.

I'm not sure why I found it exciting, for there shouldn't be anything exciting about seeing a dead body and finding out that a complete psychopath was behind it.

I guess I like to help people. I get a thrill from that as well.

The whole cab ride was silent. John were on his phone while Sherlock sat there, thinking.

John was texting his wife.

He perks up and smiles every time he reads a text. He quickly gets his phone out when it buzzes and writes the reply quickly. When he waits for a reply, he either moves his leg or moves his fingers, which is a sign of anxiety of waiting for something.

Now, how do I know Sherlock is thinking?

His eyes keep wondering around and he tilts his head to the skies. He sometimes puts his hands in a prayer like way, his eyes really still. Soon, when he realizes that whatever he is thinking is not possible, he lets out a groan in frustration.

Silence doesn't cut it for me. In fact, I hated it a lot.

I decided to break the ice.

"Any ideas?" I asked.

John looked at me, confused. Sherlock, however, knew exactly what I was talking about.

"Nope," he said, putting a pop sound near the "P."

I nodded.

Well, so much for breaking the ice.

"You hate silence," Sherlock says.

I nodded. "Yeah. I only like silence when I'm thinking."

Sherlock got out of his thinking position and stared out the window. "I suppose you have some questions for me," he stated.

I shrugged. "Not much, really," I said, "I mean, I know a lot about you. I read the blogs before. My roommate showed me them."

"What's your roommate like?" John asked.

"American, like I am, but she's in the acting program," I said, "Really talented, too."

I looked back at Sherlock. "Speaking of which...how did you know I was American when I didn't even speak a single word? I know you figured it out the minute I walked into that office and you took one glance at me."

Sherlock looked at me and smirked. "Well, you and I are both observers, so I will let you answer the question."

I shook my head playfully. "Nope," I said, mocking him with his previous "nope" sound. "I wanna hear your perspective of it."