Sherlock: His Enigma Called A

Resolve {Adelaide}

Later that Night

I unlock the door to the flat and walk in with a sigh of relief, "What a day..."

What a day indeed.

I slip off my flats and put them on the rack as my two kitties prance up, "Hey, you, did you two behave today?" I reach down to scratch their chins and heads.

Nancy, my skinny black shorthair manx with large green eyes and a big white star on her chest, nuzzles from my hand up along my arm. Purring heartily along with her brother Hercule- a black Cornish Rex with blue eyes. After a minute I stand back up and walk the rest of the way in.

It's a small, one bedroom flat with a little kitchen and one bath. Tucked on the third story, above a homely bookstore and beside a bakery-bistro. Peter Atkins, who owns the bookstore and the four rental flats, is in charge and despite being just a little older than me is an excellent landlord and has always been kind and protective over me since we met in Uni. He's like a big brother to me.

I smile when I see a bag of chocolate on my counter with a note from him when he came in to check my kitchen faucet for me;

Congratulations on completing your research paper!! (P.S. There's no such thing as too much chocolate) -Petey

He and all of the tenants are chocoholics- one of many things we have in common. That is one thing that is always kept well stocked around here. I grab one of the chocolates and then put the bag in the fridge for safekeeping before texting him a quick thanks.

I fix up a quick dinner and take it with me to the futon after feeding the cats. I flip on the telly and turn on the Discovery Channel. As I'm eating I go over the events of today- particularly meeting Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock definitely spooked me when he finally cornered me, and he's a smidge shorter than I thought he'd be, but he's just as intelligent and smart as I imagined. I couldn't help but admire how his deductions came so easily to him. Especially now that I've seen it happen in person. His eyes get impossibly focused and sharp when he's reading you your life story. As sharp as those cheekbones. Gah!! Stop!! I shake my head and exhale, "He isn't interested in sentiment. It's no use pining, Ada. Stop it." I scold myself and take another bite of dinner.

I run through my encounter with Sherlock again. It only now dawns on me that he looked a bit too pale and thin to be truly healthy. I sigh, He's struggling with Doctor Watson's absence. I've seen pictures over the years of him and he's definitely lost weight recently- he looks like he did when he first got coverage from the media. Doctor Watson is Sherlock's best friend, partner, and was his flatmate. He must have gotten Sherlock to a healthy weight. And now because he no longer has someone around twenty four seven to help keep him fed and healthy, he's regressing.

"Oh dear... he has mentioned that eating slows him down but I thought he'd take better care of himself than this..."

Just then I get a text. I pause my thoughts and unlock my mobile.

I want to help him. Maybe even be a friend. Letting him visit could be the best way to do so and see what his needs actually are.

At least I can plant the seeds of friendship. It may not happen but still... It's worth a shot.

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