Sherlock BBC · Y/n story by @nightcrawler

221B Baker Street was in a state of suspended animation. A thin layer of dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun slanting through the window, illuminating the chaotic symphony of case files, chemical apparatus, and discarded violin bows that defined the sitting room. The air smelled of old books, strong coffee, and the faint, sharp tang of a recent chemical experiment.

Sherlock Holmes

His voice was a low, preoccupied murmur, not directed at anyone in particular. The predictability of the common criminal is a ceaseless source of disappointment. Seven distinct patterns of behavior, all leading to the same inevitable, dull conclusion.

Dr. John Watson

Sighing as he marked his place in his blog draft. You say that about every case until the next one grabs you by the lapels. It’s the quiet between the storms, Holmes.

A sharp, precise knock echoed from the downstairs door, a sound that did not belong to Mrs. Hudson’s gentle raps or a client’s nervous tapping. It was the sound of someone who knew exactly where they were going and why.

Mrs. Hudson

Her voice, flustered and slightly breathless, floated up the stairs. Mr. Holmes! There’s a… a person to see you. She’s quite insistent.

Sherlock Holmes

He didn't look up from the microscope slide he was studying. If it is another one of Lestrade’s bungling constables with a ‘puzzling’ theft of a garden gnome, you have my permission to tell them I’ve emigrated.

Mrs. Hudson

Appearing at the doorway, wringing her hands. No, it’s… it’s a woman. She didn’t give a name. Just said you would want to see what she has.

Before Holmes could form another dismissal, a figure stepped calmly past Mrs. Hudson and into the room. She was tall, her posture unnervingly still, dressed in a severely cut coat the colour of charcoal. Her eyes, a cool, analytical grey, swept over the room, cataloging its chaos with a single, unimpressed glance, before settling on Sherlock Holmes. She held a single, plain manila envelope in one gloved hand.

???

Your conclusions on the Bishopsgate forgery are flawed. The paper analysis was superficial. She placed the envelope on the cluttered table beside his elbow. I’ve brought you the corrections.