Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Life

Chapter 9

"Oh, sorry. I didn't..." he mumbled in a casual London accent tinged with a bit of Irish

"Jim! Hi!" the woman responded as soon as she heard his voice. It was frustrating me that I didn't know her name so I pulled out my phone and texted John 'Who's that?'. Moments later he got the text and replied 'Molly Hooper, she works in the labs here. Has a massive crush on Sherlock.'. I chuckled at the remark 'I can tell.'. 'Really? How?' he replied. I looked over to him at the other side of the room and tapped the side of my nose while a smirk sat comfortably on my lips.

"Come in! Come in!" the woman, that I now knew to be Molly Hooper, said. I caught Sherlock look over at her and knew that he was doing what he does best: deducing and then looking back into the microscope as if nothing had happened, which, to anyone besides me and John, was the case. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes." Molly spoke again. Jim made a sound of understanding and Molly continued "And, uh... Sorry." she paused, clearly not well acquainted with John and, obviously, me.

"John Watson."

"Sarah Cook." we spoke in a cacophony of awkward mumbles

"Hi." John finished.

"Hi." Jim returned to both of us. His eyes soon averted themselves to gaze in admiration at Sherlock's back. Sherlock looked up automatically as if he could sense his eyes burning holes in his jacket and gave me a knowing glance. "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" he spoke. Jim didn't think twice about walking towards the already uncomfortable Sherlock, forcing John to step out of his way. Molly sliced the lumbering silence with her words "Jim works in I.T. Upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance.". Wrong. That's how all of this felt. There was something about this situation, this man, that made neon warning signs flash up all over the place. What Sherlock said next made me struggle to choke back my laughter.

"Gay."

"Sorry, what?" the tiny woman said with a faded smile

"Nothing," Sherlock turned slightly to smile at Jim. I could tell it was false. "Um, hey."

"Hey." Jim's eyes sparkled with something. It looked like admiration but something else was trying to crawl its way to the surface from underneath it. Something almost evil looking.

I faded in and out of reality for the next few minutes. I remember a dish clattering to the floor, the sound of faded goodbyes and a door slotting back into place. My mind wouldn't stop racing, trying to figure out what I was missing. This was frustrating. I decided to take a break and the conversation that I returned to seemed to be Sherlock doing what he does best: showing off.

"...tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear."

"His underwear?!" I soon realised what he and Molly were conversing about and sought my opportunity to make a point of my presence seeing as though Sherlock's friend seemed to be questioning why I was even there. She kept giving me confused glances, hardly a difficult realisation.

"Yes, his underwear," I interrupted, "Visible above the waistline- VERY visible- I'm not just being perverted; very particular brand." Sherlock continued my explanation

"That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here..." he lifted the silver dish to his right and picked up a piece of card that had been resting under it "...and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain." Molly stood for a moment, paralysed by shock and panic when she realised that Sherlock was never wrong (if there's anything that John's blog taught me it was this). John piped up after she had bolted out of the room.

"Charming. Well done." Sherlock looked surprised but I assumed that he had had no experiences with women so I sort of expected it.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?"

"Ha! You clearly know nothing about emotions, do you?" I laughed

"Emotions? Hmm, no. I tend to switch them off." I sauntered around to the other side of the bench where the two boys resided.

"Then maybe it's time you turned them back on." I pet him on the shoulder similar to the way that one would pet a confused puppy. I was being unusually flirtatious today, too eager to impress. This was highly irregular for me. What was I doing? I'd only just met the man!

There was a moments silence before Sherlock managed to escape from his stunned silence. He was back to his usual cocky self.

"Go on, then." he gestured to John, who stood beside me with his lips pursed; his eyes wandering in a day dream state, and then to the trainers that sat neatly- side by side- on the table top.

"Mmm?" Sherlock reached over and moved one of the shoes closer to John suggestively

"You know what I do. Off you go."