221B Baker St.

Cryptic Part the 6th

It was early when Sherlock pounded on my door. "Ivy! I'm leaving for the morgue in ten minutes!"

"What!" I exclaimed, trying to orient myself, only to roll onto the floor with a loud thump. "Ow..."

"Ivy?" I heard the door creek open.

I must have been quite a sight. Hair a tangled mess, bed sheet wrapped around me like a toga. Face all scrunched up because I couldn't bloody see.

"Hurry up," he clipped, turning on his heel and stalking away.

I grumbled as I picked myself up off the cold floor. He gave me ten minutes notice. Ten bloody minutes.

Seven short minutes later, I was yawning as I grabbed an apple for breakfast.

Sherlock stood by the door, tapping his foot impatiently. "I swear woman! You have thirty seconds to get out of this flat or I will leave you behind!"

"Calm down, Lock," I said drowsily, grabbing my coat. "I'm ready."

"Ivy," he said slowly, a small smile gracing his features. 

"Hmm?"

"You aren't wearing any shoes."

"Oh..." It was going to be a long morning.

After an uneventful taxy ride, I was following Sherlock up the steps of St. Bartholomew Hospital, pursuing him down many corridors and stair cases until finally he pushed open a door labeled "Mortuary".

The Mortuary was a medium sized white room full of tables, bodies, and tools. A small, timid looking girl stood hunched over a body in the back. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a  pony tail.

"Where are my parts, Molly?" Sherlock demanded, striding into the room.

Molly spun around. "Oh! Sherlock, I didn't hear you come in," her eyes landed on me, and her cheery disposition faltered. "Who's this?"

Wow, someone is in loooooove with Sherlock over here. I smirked. "I'm Ivy Arthur."

She gave me a tight smile. "And, uh... how do you know Sherlock?"

I raised a reproachful eye brow. "We're flat mates, met two days ago," I said, faking confusion.

"Flat mates?" Molly chocked.

Sherlock looked between us before rolling his eyes. "My body parts. Where are they, Molly?"

She gave him a bewildered look, then at me, then back again. "Sorry, what Sherlock?"

He groaned. "I ordered an arm, a jar of eyes, four feet, and a brain. Where are they?"

She stared at him for a moment. "Right. Um, over here."

"As if you need any more bloody eyeballs," I chided him as he followed Molly across the room.

He rolled his eyes at me as she opened a metal cabinet. "It should all be here, but I'll go get you a fresh brain."

She paused, as if awaiting a response. But Sherlock simply started counting out his order. With a sigh, she retreated through a door.

"I'm going to go look for a job opening," I told Sherlock. He just nodded, not looking up from the eye balls he was counting.

I unsuccessfully fought to suppress a smile as I made my way to the front desk.

-

"Thank you so much!"

"It's really no problem! When can you start?," the nice man who's interviewing me, Mr. Reynolds said.

"I can honestly do tomorrow, but that's a Friday, so maybe its simpler to start on Monday?" I contemplated out loud.

He smiled kindly. "Monday sounds good."

We stood, shook hands, and I grabbed my stuff before leaving.

I can't believe I got the job so easily! It was a fifteen minute interview,  and he was so kind. I turned a corner and bumped into a human body.

"Oh, Ivy. I was just looking for you," said Sherlock. "Congratulations."

I roll my eyes. "That obvious?"

He smiled down at me with what I hoped was fondness. "You usually aren't bouncing off the walls. And seeing as you just went to look for a job, its not hard to figure out."

I grinned, and followed him out of the hospital.

Soon I was standing outside of the flat, patiently waiting on Sherlock. "Need any help?" I inquired as I watch him try to squeeze out of the cab with arms full of body parts.

He grunted with a look of frustration. I stared at him. "Are you sure?"

He sent me a glare. "... can you carry the arm?"

I grinned. "Most definitely."

I went to pick it up, and accidentally grabbed it by the hand. I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me.

"What is it that you find amusing?" Sherlock clipped absently.

I just kept giggling and shook the arm as if it were attached to a person. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but not even he could deny the small smile.

"Come on Ivy, I haven't got all day."

"Yes, you do," I retorted, opening the door and stepping inside.

"No, I don't," he argued back, also stepping inside.

"Mhm," I shrugged of my coat, trying my best not to drop the arm.

"Don't drop my arm," Sherlock warned, taking the stairs two at a time.

I scoffed, following him up. "I would never!" He gives me a look. "Honest!"