Diety
2013
Sherlock is lounging on his couch because he has a four patch problem. Even though he’s simple, John is excellent to talk to because he doesn’t respond and Sherlock needs quiet-
And it is about to be disturbed.
“Where does this box go?” asks a masculine voice.
“Kitchen!” responds an enthusiastic female, “It’s my dishes so maybe put it on the counter?”
“How many boxes after this one?”
“Just two more.”
“Brilliant. Do you need help unpacking?”
Sherlock sits up and turns towards the chair, “John. Why are there people moving in downstairs?”
Mary snorts from the kitchen (is that what it’s called if there are tongues in the fridge?) “We don’t live here Sherlock and even we knew that she was moving in.”
“MRS. HUDSON!” yells Sherlock.
“There he goes,” John sighs.
“Not your house keeper dear,” Mrs. Hudson starts with, “Other than that, are you okay you three?”
Sherlock stands and begins pacing, “You cannot allow this person to move into 221C, Mrs. Hudson.”
Mrs. Hudson sighs, knowing what is coming, “Sher-”
“I hear a piano being moved in, and-”
“My ears are burning,” the voice says, and he is given a body. She walked into 221B with a man behind her and Sherlock is struck?
He squints at her and he sees nothing. There is nothing.
“My name is Hermione Granger.”
He thinks he might be responding but in reality, he is gaping like a fish and he doesn’t-
He looks to her side and veryleanbuttoothinmalnutrition???childhoodabusefavoringonelegovertheother. veryrichlooksscruffybutitsbydesign? Marriedtoawomanwithredhairtwochildrenagedoneandtwo.
He looks back at her –Hermione- and there is nothing.
She smiles, and he is blinded.
“Hello, I’m Sherlock Holmes,” he says quickly, moving to put his hand in hers. There is still nothing.
John turns towards Mary. “Why does this always happen to me?”
“Shh, now, John. Hello, Hermione. I’m Mary Watson, and this is my husband, John. John and Sherlock used to be flatmates before John and I got married.” Mary looks towards the boy, “And you are?”
“My name is Harry Potter.”
Mary’s eyes sharpen ever so slightly and everyone in the room except the Landlady and the Good Doctor notice.
“A pleasure. Did you need help unpacking all of those boxes?”
Hermione opens her mouth to respond but Sherlock cuts her off, “Yes, of course, I’ll help. John maybe you can go get treats for Hermione’s cat.”
Harry frowns, “How did you know about-”
“It’s a thing he does, just ignore it. Sherlock, behave,” John warns.
“It’s simple, really,” Sherlock announces because he finds that he needs to prove to Hermione that he is worthy, “There is orange hair at the bottom of your pants, but it’s not the same orange as the hair of your wife, which is longer, so it must be something small. The installation of a pet flap on 221C that is too small to be for a dog. It’s Hermione’s cat and not yours because you have an aversion to the cat – the hair is only at your legs so you have no desire to pet it at all. Ergo, there is a cat, and it belongs to Hermione. Persian?” he asked directing the last question at Hermione.
She smiles slightly, “Half.”