"He's always like that," Molly said quietly after Sherlock left. Her brown eyes fluttered around the room. She was trying to think- always an annoying attempt for normal people to make. "Reminds me of you, (Y/N.)"

     She met your eyes with a little smile. Oh, this poor girl. She likes Sherlock a lot, didn't she? You took a sharp breath and turned to Watson.

     "Shall we be off, then?" He asked, leaning on his cane.

     "Indeed we shall," you replied, opening the door for him. "See you, Molly."

     "Bye, (Y/N)! Love you!" she called back. "I-in a completely platonic way, of course!" she stammered. You sighed. Molly was your... friend- and you didn't have many of those- but she could be insanely awkward sometimes. 

     As the two of you walked down the hall, you noticed John looking through the most recently sent texts, while also unsuccessfully trying to keep you from seeing the screen. You read that it said, 'Arrest if brother has a green ladder."

     "So, before you ask, yes, he is indeed smart. Wonderful observation." Your tone was not sarcastic, but you knew John would perceive it as so anyway. "And it seems he solves crimes as well... Just like me."

     John nodded. "Never thought I'd meet someone with the... deducing thing. Let's look him up, shall we?"

     The next day, you and John were walking to 221B together. Well, you were walking, he was... limping. Like an adorable little hedgehog that had a splinter in one paw. What? Nothing. The two of you arrived at a tall black door and John reached over to bang on it with the knocker. 

     "Hello," a familiar low-toned (A/N: I kid you not, I just typed love on accident when I was trying to type voice, and they don't even have the same number of letters. Coincidence? I think not!) voice said behind you. Your companion and you turned around to see Sherlock Holmes coming out of a cab.

     "Ah, Mr. Holmes," John said.

     "Sherlock, please," he said, glancing at you at first with a small smirk, but it quickly morphed into what you thought was a displeased expression. He reached out to shake John's hand.

     "Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive." You could tell that John wasn't too excited about that part, and sensed that Holmes also noticed John's reluctance.

     "Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's given me a special deal," Sherlock reassured him. As he spoke, he glanced at you for what must have been the sixth time since he arrived. This time, you caught his eye and gave him a bored, questioning look. "Yes, sorry," Sherlock said. "What are you doing here, erm- What's your name?"

     "Oh, I suppose I never told you. I'm (F/N) (L/N). And Mrs. Hudson is actually my aunt, so I thought I'd accompany my friend Watson and say hi to her."

     "Yes, well." Sherlock broke your locked stare and continued to John, "She owes me a favor. Her husband was sentence to death in Florida a while back. I helped out."

     "You... stopped her husband from being executed?" John asked uncertainly as you shook your head.

     Sherlock smiled softly. "Oh, no. I ensured it." His smile, for whatever reason, brought your attention to Sherlock's nose. A random thought flew across your mind that it looked rather cute. What?  you mentally snapped at yourself. Shut up. 

     Suddenly, the door opened. Aunt Hudson came out and saw you. "(Y/N)!"

     You grinned. "Hello, hello!" you greeted as the two of you came in for a hug. Sherlock looked slightly disturbed.

     "Well, what're you doing here, dear? Do you know Sherlock?"

    "We've only just met, Aunt Hudson," you answered. "It's a funny story, actually. I hope you don't mind that I won't bother to tell it, especially since the only one that will really even pretend to find it funny is you, and only out of unnecessary politeness that I'd like to remind you is only encouraged by a pointless society but not really productive with someone, like me, who knows that such facades are wastes of time. " Mrs. Hudson blinked at you. "Oh, also, I'm in London because-"

     "Oh!" Mrs. Hudson laughed as Sherlock frowned at you. "I forgot! You've come to live in London! Well, how was your visit to Chelmsford? Actually, you know what, never mind that,  could you stay with me for a while? Just to help around the place?"

     "Oh. Of course, Aunt Hudson," you replied uncertainly, suddenly uncomfortable. Sherlock's manner mimicked yours and John looked between the two of you with the slightest smile on his face.

     "Lovely," she murmured with a sweet smile. "It'll be delightful to see how you two get along, Sherlock and (Y/N). Clever what you are. Anyhow, let me show you all in."

     She led John inside, and both you and Sherlock took a step in as well at the same time. He stopped to let you past, though obviously annoyed.

     Sherlock and John went upstairs to the room for rent, but you followed your aunt into the downstairs room as she told you about how much she missed you. You told her about John, which actually made her a bit stressed, poor soul, because she realized she hadn't introduced herself to him. She made her way upstairs with you following. You paused by the door, untied your black scarf and trench coat and hung them on a hook together. Once again, you were wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

     "What do you think, then, Dr. Watson?" she asked once she had reached the top of the stairs. How slow she'd been getting up the stairs bothered you extremely. Old people and their joints and such, blah blah blah. "There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms."

     This comment made you laugh, although Sherlock seemed unfazed. "Oh course we'll be needing two," John said, startled and a bit annoyed.

     "Oh, no need to worry, we've got all sorts here. Mrs. Turner next dear has married ones!"

     Watson looked at you with wide eyes, and you smiled slyly back.

     Aunt Hudson's attention was drawn to the messy kitchen. She sighed with exaggerated sadness and went to clean it up.

     You stepped away from the door and into the room, making your presence more prominent. "We looked you up last night," you mentioned to Sherl.

     "Anything interesting?" He asked in response. 

     You didn't really care to answer that question, as it was obvious that Sherlock knew what would come up if he was searched, and he was anticipating John's (and perhaps yours) expressions of either distaste or bewilderment, possible even expecting you to be impressed. At the very least, hoping that you would. "You know full well-"

     "Of course I do, I'm not an idiot. So, tell me, what did you two find?"

     John sat down on a couch facing away from the kitchen with a grunt. "We, uh, found your website... 'The Science of Deduction.'"

     "What did you think?" Sherlock asked carefully. His face took on a hopeful smile which he quickly tried to cover up with a plain expression, but you noticed. And he noticed you noticed, because his now greenish-blue eyes flashed in your direction, showing a hint of embarrassment. You realized he had heterochromia.

     John pursed his lips. Sherlock frowned, and his disappointed eyes reminded you of a child.

     You tsked. "You made a few bold claims, regarding your powers of deduction, that John finds suspicious. He's only ever really known one clever person, you know."

     The side of Sherlock's mouth twitched as he turned to face you. "Oh? Who?"

       You knows full well who I'm talking about.   "Me."

     "I could read his military career in his face and his leg, and his brother's drinking habits from his mobile phone," he boasted.

     "How?" you asked. "I mean, I know how I could. But could you, really?"

     That's when Aunt Hudson came in with a newspaper she'd grabbed from the kitchen. "These suicides, Sherlock? They, well, look right up your street!"

     "What about me?" You asked, almost hurt- your aunt knew that you helped out the police force back in Chelmsford. You wished you could take back the words immediately, realizing that they sounded childish.

     "Oh, yes, you too," Mrs. Hudson rushed to console you. "Three, exactly the same."

     Movement out the window caught your eye. "Four."

     "Pardon?"

    Sherlock followed your gaze. "There's been a fourth," he smiled. "And there's something different this time."