Sherlock: The Nanny's Anomaly

Deductions (Susanna POV)

When I return to the living room, I notice that the spoon in the honey pot has been moved and recently used. Looking over at Sherlock, and finding him eagerly sipping his cuppa, I smile knowingly. But I say nothing about it. Instead I refill the teapot and sit back down.

"Given that you seem to handle the task of hostessing with ease, you entertain company often," Sherlock says a minute later. I keep a straight face in preparation for more deductions, "You frequently watch children of family and friends, so you're flat is kept well stocked and clean for them."

"Yes. My friends and family often come over and I do babysit on the weekends." I confirm. John pipes up.

"Could I use your bathroom?" I nod.

"Down the hall, first door on the left."

"Ta." He hands Rosie to me and leaves. I bounce her on my knee and begin talking to her, ignoring Sherlock's gray blue eyes scrutinizing me and my flat.

"Sentimental."

"What?" I look up at him. He's set down his cuppa and has pressed his hands together at his chin.

"You. Sentimental."

"Everyone is, Sherlock." I brush it off and refocus on Rosie.

"Scrapbooks, pictures, souvenirs,.. You either have a short memory or enjoy reliving the past. Given your ability to recall information in moments, I settle on the latter. But the well marked calendar on your refrigerator also indicates that you look to the future and that you are a planner. You run on routine and schedule."

"Okay, what else have you unraveled about me, Consulting Detective?" I challenge in a subtle manner. He narrows his eyes at me.

"While you function best with a skeleton schedule you also enjoy spontaneity- you are curious and adventurous, prompting you to travel and sight see. You enjoy trying new things, given the number of pictures recording such events," He shifts his head, "One of your hobbies is photography. You enjoy taking pictures and have a talent for Photoshop, although you use it mostly for corrections and effects rather than for comedy."

"Very good." I hum. Sherlock's shoulders square up.

"You are, as it were, a bookworm. Perfectly evident from the bookshelves. You have a wide palate for genre but favor historical fiction, science fiction, murder mysteries, and romance."

I don't miss the twinge of suggestion in his voice as he says romance. I nod in approval and remain focused on Rosie, "Clean and proper romance." I correct. I'm not the least bit into steamy romance where it's crazy physical and lustful. My friends constantly tease me about being 'old fashioned' and traditional, but I am who I am.

"Shall I continue?"

"I think you've deduced enough, Sherlock." He gives me a careful look, as if contemplating whether or not to verbalize more deductions. Luckily for me, John returns from the loo and retrieves Rosie before Sherlock can open his mouth again. Instead, he finishes his cuppa and gets up to continue rummaging through my flat. I collect everything and carry them to the kitchen.

John joins me a minute later and sits Rosie in the high chair, "I'll help you clean up then." I smile and relent, allowing him to wash so I can dry and put everything away.

"So, uh, you have family here in London?"

"Yes, my dad's side anyway. He and my step mum live in the suburbs with my step brother Paul. Thomas lives in a small flat near his Studio, not too far from here."

"And what about your other brothers? I can't imagine having to keep track of them all." At this I laugh.

"Oh it is tedious. But I manage. Always had to, always will," I hum. We chat about things until the task is done, and then I finally get to the package and the mail. I open it and find neatly packed jars of cherry grenadine, orange preserve, peaches, homemade salsa and honey. I grab a couple of the jars of honey and walk them over to John, "I could send you back home with these. I've got plenty here."

"Seriously?" I nod.

"Yes. Seriously." I hand them to John and begin unpacking the rest of the jars. He helps me store them on the higher shelves, sparing me the need to climb onto the counter, and we continue with small talk. Mostly about his work at surgery and Rosie.

I look at the wall clock. 2 PM. I sigh, "Time flies."

"I guess so."

"I hope I haven't kept you too long. I know you probably have cases waiting for you."

"None of them worth my attention," I jolt forward, taken by surprise, "Although I have concluded that you are far more dynamic than I originally predicted." I turn around and lock eyes with Sherlock, who has taken up the space behind me.

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