Reluctant Partners (Sherlock x reader)

Chapter One

Chapter One

~The bloody Phantom~

The living room was filled with heavy looking furniture, which did make it look comfortable, but not homely. It was a practical room, designed for work nor pleasure, not unlike the lobby of a hotel. However there were a few personal touches, the vases of blue flowers left scattered throughout the house, handmade cushions and a piano pushed up in the corner of the room.

Some say that it is possible to tell someone's personality from the way they decorated their home and in this case, it was very true. You were practical women who did almost everything for a reason. After all, you were a detective, a new detective, but still, you liked to think that you were at least excellent at what you did. After all, it was mostly you that dealt with those job's that the oh so famous Sherlock Holmes cast off. But, right now you were on an extremely interesting case.

The slight clinking of China caught your attention as your guest banged his teacup on the cake stand (filled with freshly baked cakes). The man reminded you of a rooster. He had used far too much hair gel making his already greasy hair shine and stand on end much like a tuff of greying brown feathers. He wore a yellow pinstripe suite, which was painfully bright, with a deep purple tie. His complete lack of fashion sense or sense at all, showed that he was left alone because anyone (apart from him apparently) would understand that clothing such as that was better suited for a clown rather than an interview in an investigation. Another sign he was a complete idiot was that he had felt the need to polish his brand new, unworn shoes and being as stupid was not a common trait amongst successful journalists. However, from his fat red cheeks and a confident glint in his eyes, you could tell that money wasn't something he lacked; most likely he had more money than sense (something that really wasn't difficult to achieve in this case). Which, of course, made perfect sense as is explained why he had been willing to buy his neon suite for the overpriced 'fashion shop' that sold such ridiculous fashion it was often regarded as a joke, apart from those overly flamboyant gays (or any overconfident folk) that could actually pull off a look. This man was not one of those people. So, you decided the man was living off the money of his deceased family, his rich dead family.

You caught his eye purposefully so that you knew he wouldn't ignore you like he had Josh, your bodyguard and only friend (at the time). "How's your family?" you asked innocently. It was a normal everyday question that most people used to strike up a conversation. Rick Smith, the idiotic journalist before you, shifted uncomfortably clearly unnerved by your question. You smiled to yourself now knowing that you had been right.

Coughing, Rick looked up at the clock. "Can we skip the small talk and get down to the business. I'm a very busy man, you know". You doubted that he was a busy man and the way he spoke to you, saying the request as if it were a command, that made you feel no need to rush. Instead, you pretended to think over his 'suggestion' while in secret you enjoyed watching him struggle with his impatiens. A good twenty seconds passed before you decided to humor him after he had taken up playing with your best china cup. That China was worth more to you than he was.

Sighing softly, you took up your ballpoint pen and leather notepad. "Yes let's, I am too quite a busy woman. So, Mr. Smith, can you please describe what happened the night you saw the 'phantom'?"

Instantly, he launched into a lengthy explanation about what happened including a 'lovely' description of his home and wealth. Trying to impress me? You thought to yourself listening as he carried on. To you, he seemed painfully biases, so much so that you weren't sure whether or not the facts he gave you were even true.