The Intern Meets the Detective

December 27, 2012
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The wooden boards of the staircase creaked under my feet. The man that led me up the stairs was still telling me a few do’s and don’ts that involved his roommate. I argued with myself if I was still up for the invite Dr Watson had offered. Actually, it was me who had insisted on coming over to the flat he and his colleague owned.

"I’m glad we will be able to have a chat outside the hospital walls." I said before reaching the last step of the staircase. Watson’s and mine encounter was much of a surprise to me. When I came to London as an intern and just a young, naïve American girl, I didn’t even think once about the opportunity of working with him. But once given this chance, I accepted it before you could say ‘consulting detective’.

"Thank you again, for agreeing to introduce me to Holmes, Dr Watson." I thanked him for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

"It’s no problem, really. And please, call me John." I nodded behind his back before he turned to me once we stopped at a door.

"Last chance to run." John said casually and I snickered, but still questioned his uncertainness.

"I’m sure he’s not that bad. And if he was, being a frequent reader of your blog must have gotten me ready in some way or another." I assured him. I’m not saying he might be a complete lunatic, but it sensed that that was what John tried to warn me about.

"You’ll see." He said before opening the door wide open for me to enter first.

I examined my surroundings almost instantly and felt regret dart through me just a little bit. Was I that unsure of meeting the one and only Sherlock Holmes or was it my perfectionisms that took over? The apartment I stood in was quite untidy, but for me that was a lot. I thought of my manners and just decided to let it slide.

"I’m back and I brought a guest." John called out to a man sitting in an armchair quite comfortably, and when I say comfortably, I meant he didn’t find it important enough to greet or even look at any of us.
He dressed nicely, in an all-black suit that hugged his tall figure almost perfectly. His dark, short curls framed his strong set jaw and complimented his too obviously grey eyes.
His chin rested on the palms of his hands, staring at a no particular point. He didn’t blink once, just squinted as if he thought really hard for a second.
I shifted in my place awkwardly; you could cut the tension with a knife.

I didn’t notice that I was holding in a breath until I let it out. I brushed my shyness away and faced the far too quiet man.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr Holmes." I took a step closer to him, hoping he would say anything in return. He didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes landed on me for a few seconds and then back to the point in the bullet holed wall. Did he just scan me or something?

John patted my shoulder as if telling me not to bother and I did. I would just try later. I followed him to the kitchen for tea.

"We’re out of milk, John." I heard Sherlock’s voice for the first time.

"We’re not." He answered him sounding quite annoyed.
Holmes went silent for a moment and I took my time to look at him with an unimpressed look. Did he really ignore me, but thought it was necessary to announce that there was lack of milk in the fridge?

"Then we’re out of tea. Go get some."

"You’ve been home the whole day. You could’ve gone and got it yourself." I looked back and forth at them having an argument that an unhappily married couple would have.

"I’m busy." Sherlock said after a moment.
I scoffed and decided to leave them be.

I scrunched my nose when an odd unfamiliar stench hit my nostrils. I’m almost certain I wouldn’t be able to stay here much longer, scratch that, not able anymore.
Trying to lift my foot from the kitchen floor, but failing, I looked down to the sticky black goo covering most of the floor and now also my sneakers. I huffed and felt my fingers twitch irritatingly.

"May I ask why your floor is covered with a weird substance?"
With a silence filling the apartment and still no answers from any of them, John decided to take a look at what the young girl was talking about. After a quick glance and a loud sigh, he turned to his roommate almost immediately.

Not even waiting for John to repeat the question, Sherlock answered with a tone as if it would be obvious to a toddler. “Experiment.”

"Don’t even want to know." I mumbled under my own breath attempting get free from the ‘experiment’ without making an even bigger mess.
With the idea of basic hygiene in the back of my head, I still had a bit of hope in the man, who didn’t give me such a good first impression. Thinking that he would clean up after himself, I couldn’t be more wrong.

"I’m guessing you’ll take care of that, when you’re not as busy." I said trying to get Sherlock’s attention, but with a not so amused look on John’s face, I figured that this conversation would lead to nowhere.

Ignoring John’s gaze, I attempted to get Mr Ego to speak up. "Well?"

"John, the floor." Sherlock didn’t waste a second to look at his friend, but had his eyes locked on the tiny communicating device in his hand.
I tilted my head and looked at the man in disbelief.
John just gave me a look as if saying “this is what I was talking about” with no words being spoken.

"Excuse me?" I asked almost too quietly for anyone to hear. Almost.
The curly haired man looked at me for the second time since the start of this long evening with a blank stare.
"Does it bother you so much that it’s important to be taken care of?"

"Well, yes-" he interrupted me mid-sentence.

"Then John, please."

My blood boiled with anger. I haven’t encountered anyone who would talk to people this way, let alone, let it get to me.

"Do you always treat your friends this way? Knowing who you are, I thought a bit of basic manners would be easy as pie for you."
I continued talking without letting him answer, not that he would have "Now that I think about it, then you must be the most egoistic, snobby person with a strong lack of human emotions. You obviously think you are too superior to do any chores around the house like normal people would."

I still kept my eyes on the man that had tested my patience until it was gone completely. During my sudden outburst, Sherlock still hadn’t paid attention to me or my words. It was like I wasn’t even there.

"In fact, the earth doesn’t rotate around you. You aren’t the sun."
John pursed his lips to hide the smirk that had started to form. With him looking away to ignore my gaze I furrowed my forehead in confusion, but brushed it off. Must have been an inside joke of some sort.

My last words must have finally caught his attention. The lean, tall figure shot a look my way, but looked away as quickly.

"Tea?" A chirpy voice blurted out walking through the door and passed us all into the kitchen. Mrs Hudson stopped before she could step in the horrendous mess and put the tray on the desk instead. She turned to me and spoke up.

"You could you use a cup after a fit like that, dear. I know how Sherlock can be, he eventually gets to you. It’s just a matter of time."
A sound that resembled a short laugh escaped his throat and I held myself back not to shoot a glare his way. I decided to ignore him to avoid any more fits in which only I would be the one arguing. Two could play that game.
I accepted the steaming hot cup of tea from the friendly woman’s hands and thanked her with a slight smile.

After taking a few sips, I let my nerves calm down. I took in a few deep breaths and stood next to the man I despised just a few minutes ago. Much to my surprise, he ignored my approach and probably everything and everyone that surrounded him. His stare was locked on a few pictures with hieroglyphics, different portraits and news articles taped on the wall above the fireplace. They seemed completely irrelevant to me, but who knew what was going on in that crazy brain of his.

"What is your deal?" I asked with my usual calm, socializing voice. "Why are so- you?" I tried to ask as logically without a proper term on my mind.

"No matter how high you think of me, I can’t answer properly to a question you can’t even form right, and I am not an adjective."

"You’re an asshole. You know that, right?" he turned to me completely with an expression I couldn’t put my finger on.

"So I’ve been told." A devilish smirk appeared on his face, as if he was mocking my attempt to insult him.
He stood too closely for me to feel comfortable, but he seemed to be absolutely fine with the lack of space between us. I wondered if it amused him to see people in an awkward situation.

"Now you’ve got my attention that you desperately tried to achieve. If you have anything important to say, say it now. I’m not up for blunt, unintelligent chatter."
I stared at him surprised. Who would have thought that I would crack him so quickly? I felt the corners of my lips to lift up, but pursed them to hide the smile. Noticing that he still waited for my answer, I panicked because I didn’t have one. And him being so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, didn’t help. My eyes landed on his lips. They looked too inviting. I kicked myself mentally for thinking like a hormonal teenage girl.

"That’s what I thought." Sherlock said a matter-of-factly when he didn’t receive an answer from me. His turned his attention back to the photos.
I felt my cheeks burning up and could already imagine them turning a light shade of pink. Enough to stand out on my pale skin.

"How obvious. How did I not think of it earlier?" He tilted his head and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds still standing too close for my liking. A grunt of exhaustion left his throat, but then he smirked wickedly.

"Come with me, John. I have solved yet another crime!" Sherlock said the happiest he has been today with his coat clutched in one hand.
Before darting down the stairs after Sherlock, John shouted a see you soon my way and informed me that we will talk about work the next morning. With that, the door shut closed with a loud thud and I was left alone.

"I guess I will just show myself out." I said to no one in particular.
Sherlock still left me startled. The man was mad and he started to make me go mad.

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