No Vacancy at 221c: A BBC Sherlock Fanfic

Christine

Christmas Eve dawned bright and clear, an invisible chill hovering over the city with frigid intensity. Celestia almost slept the day away, tucked comfortably under her thick comforter, warding off the freezing cold. The sudden reminder of the day and its events finally sent her jumping out of the safety of her bed and running to the closet to don a thick sweater and pants. She shivered as she pressed a few buttons on the thermostat in the hall; somehow the heat had been cut off.

Might as well get this over with, she thought, shuffling to the bathroom to make herself presentable. When she had finally managed to get her things together and head out the door the clock on the mantle read 12:36. Celestia hadn't brought any of her formal dresses, in the thought that she'd never need one. Many occasions had required her to wear one for one of her father's many social events, but she hadn't been a girl who was asked to a dance or who would ever be invited to a party. She hadn't exactly been popular. Now here she was, buying a dress for a party that she had been invited to by friends, and she'd be going with a guy.

There was a thought.

As she entered the shop her eyes fell upon rack upon rack of deep purples and crimsons, midnight blues and emerald greens. It was quiet inside, partially due to the extremely high prices that could be found on each and every article in the store. Celeste declined an offer of help from an overly enthusiastic salesperson and quietly scanned the racks. When she was satisfied with her choice, the lone shopper purchased the dress and slipped back into the bustling street.

She returned to Baker Street at around 4:30, grasping a medium sized box and balancing two smaller bags on top of it. That was, of course, excluding the large dress bag she had slung over her shoulder. Sherlock nowhere in sight, Celestia descended the stairs and opened her door with heightened difficulty. When the great task of entrance had been fulfilled the packages were dumped unceremoniously on the couch; the exception being the box. It was placed on the counter with relative care.

Celeste entered the bathroom, which was abnormally large, and sat down on a stool in front of a shining marble countertop, black speckled with silver. A perfect reflection stared back at her from the mirror, showing off her pale skin and grey eyes. She sighed as she ripped her trademark scarf off of her neck and stared at the lines that were beginning to fade along it. The angry red had dimmed due to a lack of aggravation. Celestia began to get ready: redoing her makeup, curling her hair and donning the beautiful garment. After a few minutes of strategic brush strokes, the letters had disappeared completely, leaving her skin empty as she pulled her curls back and over one shoulder, securing the locks with a sparkling pin. The woman sighed once again as she looked at herself. She smiled lightly then rolled her eyes at the reflection before grabbing a pair of heels, and retrieving the two small bags from the living room, and exiting the flat as the clock hit 5:38.

"Sherlock!" she called upward, not wanting to scale the stairs in such unpractical attire.

A few moments passed. "Coming!" a voice boomed, slightly agitated. "I have to go?" he yelled again.

"Please?" Celeste called back.

A minute later a figure bounded down the stairs, red splattered across his temple and right cheek. She laughed slightly at his disheveled hair and purple shirt that seemed to have several buttons forgotten.

"Experiment?" Celeste questioned, stepping forward to fix his misshapen collar. He nodded, wiped at the blotches on his face, then stepped back, pushing her arm away. Slowly, the detective smirked as he took in her new appearance. Her dress was simple, long and black, close fitting until it flared out at the bottom. Sleeves of dark lace spidered up her pale arms, striking in their contrast.