Midnight Visitor

A night without dinner is normal to Christine, all she had to do was to distract herself. After a hot shower, she went straight to bed, just to be woken up by the scream of Mrs. Hudson.

Christine grabbed the sleeping robe beside her straight away and dashed out of the door, tying her robe while going up the stairs, not forgetting to put a scarf around her neck.

"It seems like I would have another flatmate," Christine was halfway up the stairs when a deep voice started talking.

"From the long hair that is on the floor, I could deduct that she is an Asian lady. Not great quality, meaning that she never put much effort into maintaining them. The hair is very long because she never goes to the hairdresser, not to consider the high prices in London. Furthermore, she lives in the basement, meaning that she is having financial problems."

A female voice spoke softly...

"The marks on the carpet means that she brings heavy luggage with her every time she goes on the trip. A lady that doesn't bother to cut her hair bringing so many clothes with her would only mean one thing - she goes on long trips that are definitely longer than a month."

...but her voice was as sharp as a new blade, cutting into her body without any effort...

"Vaseline was put on the hinges and around the door, even the rusts were cleaned off carefully, plus the carpet under the door is considered to be in very good condition. This had shown that this lady was always very careful when it comes to closing the door, not wanting to make any noises that might wake up Mrs. Hudson. If it's daytime, there is no need. So obviously, she usually goes out at night."

...the blades cut through her skin, advancing down her flesh, digging out her bones...

"The metal part of the door contains a few specks of blue pain, meaning that she owns a pair of light blue heels. The door handle has a slight hint of perfume, this would mean that she had only put it on her wrist recently. But this was not how she usually dresses, only to dress like this in order to please someone."

...exposing her heart in the cold air...

"Financial problems, long trips, and the need to satisfy someone - a writer of course, and a free one. And not to forget, she loves scarves."

...Allowing everyone to observe freely...

"And yes, about that last point. Tiny strands of polyester and similar materials could be found between the metal doors, meaning that she owns several scarves, wearing them very often."

A surge of coldness advanced from Christine's toes, all the way up her spine.

"Am I right, Mrs. Hudson?"

Christine suddenly shivered, stumbling on the stairs and almost falling over. She grabbed the door handle desperately to gain her balance.

"My goodness, Sherlock! Are you sure you haven't been around London all these years?" Mrs. Hudson was very surprised.

Christine immediately regretted staying at 221 Baker Street in the first place. Why did she settle here permanently? Why did she leave her mother and choose to live with Mrs. Hudson? Why was she so confident that the previous tenant would not return without even checking out any of his information? She had thought innocently that a man as intelligent as him would not be able to fake his death.

But regretting her decisions would achieve nothing, there was no longer any point in trying to hide anything.

Christine inhaled deeply, suppressing all her negative thought forcefully, opened the door, and walked straight in, not bothering to hide.

A tall man stood in front of her. He had curly hair, sharp features and was wearing a black wind coat, those bright blue and intelligent eyes scanning her like an X-ray.

"Oops, it seemed like I had made a mistake. You don't like them, you need them," he spoke with a hint of disappointment as if getting something wrong is even worse than revealing someone's personal details.

"um hum!" Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat, interrupting his lines of thoughts. "Let me introduce to you," the landlady smiled warmly, "This is Christine Su, just like you had deducted, she is a free author. After you were gone," her smile faltered a bit, but quickly recovered after glancing at Christine, "she moved in. She is a very lovely girl. Christine, this is.."

"Sherlock Holmes, I believe, the only consulting detective in the world," Christine offered her hand.

But instead of taking the hand, Sherlock scanned Christine from head to toe. It wasn't until Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat that he shook hands with her.

"You prefer to use paper and pen to compose, and then typing them onto the computer," Sherlock looked down at this lady that had similar heights with John, but could not find that familiar look of surprise in her eyes. "The nails on your right thumb, index finger, and middle finger are fixed often, but all the others were seldom taken care of."

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson addressed unhappily, quickly changing the subject. "Have you seen John?"

"Of course he had!" Christin spoke confidently in front of the uncertain detective, a smirk on her face. "He went to see Dr. Watson first thing, but was punched 3 times because he never really answered what Dr. Waston had asked." Her smile was so wide that her eyes formed a line.

Mrs. Hudson gasped slightly and looked at Sherlock, who was so stunned it was as if Moriarty had come back to life. She realized, everything Christine said had been true. But about how she had figured this out, the landlady was too brainwashed by Sherlock to be concerned.

"Sherlock, you shouldn't have done that! Do you know how devastated John was? He didn't even ring me after all these years..." Mrs. Hudson started to ramble until Christine cut her off suddenly.

"I believe that what Mr. Holmes needs right now is a plate of food, Mrs. Hudson," Christine still had that smile on her face. "I'm afraid that he didn't have any lunch, and was quite looking forward to the dinner. Unfortunately, it hadn't turned out as what he had expected."

"My god, Sherlock! You really shouldn't have done that, it's too late now! John had already got himself a partner, he was going to propose tonight," Mrs. Hudson said with hurt in her voice.

"Oh, yes!" the stunned expression finally disappeared from the detective's face. He loosened his grip from Christine's hand, but his eyes still staring at hers. "I had already seen her, a very pretty blonde. But for now, Mrs. Hudson," he turned around and grinned warmly at Mrs. Hudson, "I really need something to eat."

"Of course, I'll prepare something right now," Mrs. Hudson made her way to her room, turning around at the last second facing Christine, "Would you like some too, Christine?"

"Sure!" Christine replied lightly. Mrs. Hudson made her way to the kitchen immediately.

"There was the smell of red wine on Mrs. Hudson. But someone who is addicted to alcohol was still unexpectedly sober, so obviously someone had managed to stop her, by using her least favorite way too..." the moment the landlady disappeared from the doorway, Sherlock started circling Christine. "You tipped the rest down the drain."

"That was why Mrs. Hudson didn't allow you to have dinner, after all, she does that all the time. And of course, you didn't go and look for food. In order to distract yourself, you went to bed without really feeling tired." His gaze moved away from her messy hair, onto her neatly tied scarf, then to her rushed robe, stopping at her slippers.

"When Mrs. Hudson screamed, you were already asleep, but you got up straight away. You put on your robe half-heartedly, seeming that you didn't care much about revealing anything. However, you put on your scarf and tidied it. I guess that you have a scar on your neck, and maybe you had attempted suicide." He moved his gaze back to her eyes.

"Am I right?" Sherlock looked as if everything he just said were 101% accurate.

Christine didn't answer the question straight away but smirked for quite a while. "Everything but the last point."

"Oh? Now, this is getting rather interesting," Sherlock had an excited expression on his face, he rubbed his hands together. "Now, amuse me," his gaze became serious, as if he was the judge at court.

"Dr. Watson came to Baker Street this morning. Mrs. Hudson talked about you two during dinner, it seemed like your bond was so great that she thought you guys were a couple. And you, are just a jerk that never cares about others' feelings," Christine had a wide smirk on her face, as if she just delivered a compliment.

"I guess that the second you 'came back to life', you wanted to give him a surprise. Unfortunately for tonight, Dr. Watson was focusing on something else. So maybe, it was more of a fright than a surprise. Plus, the way you had talked and how you had never felt what you should really feel…." Christine paused, taking a glance at Sherlock's expression. When she made sure that nothing was wrong, she continued.

"You were smashed onto the ground within the second. Just look at the dirt on the back of your head, and clearly, you just tidied it this morning. Fortunately, it was a five-star restaurant; there would be no way that the staff would not stop Dr. Watson. If they didn't, I don't think you will even be in one piece," she scanned the bruise on his nose, the split lip, then to the blood-stained scarf and his coat that smelled of food, pausing on the folded shirt.

"The three of you went to another restaurant because all of you didn't have dinner and needed a place to talk. However, you managed to say the wrong thing again, ending up with a split lip. That like, the three of you had no choice but to move again. You took off your coat and scarf. But before you even sat down, your nose was broken. It seemed like that Dr. Watson had lost patience in you completely, and you had no choice but to come here."

"You were correct," Sherlock curled his lips on a slight angle, "except for the last point."

"Unbelievable!" Christine gasped mockingly, "Are you sure that someone except Mrs. Hudson and Dr. Watson would even be able to stand a jerk like you?"

"You are very clever!" Sherlock smiled without it reaching his light blue eyes. His expression suddenly became murderous, "However! That does not mean I will welcome you to Baker Street!"

"I know," Christine shrugged her eyes then turning cold. "but that doesn't mean I will move out!"

Sherlock stared down at the writer, fire in his eyes as if he wanted to burn a hole out of her. But Christine stared back without any sign of defeat.

"What are you two doing standing at the front?" Mrs. Hudson's voice rang out from the dining room, breaking the fiery battle that was brewing in the hallway. "Dinner's ready."

"Will you destroy the night for Mrs. Hudson tonight?" Christine smiled coldly.

"Will you?" Sherlock returned.

Their gazes crashed into each other once more. Sherlock indicated the hallway with his hand like a gentleman, and Christine gladly walked in front without any words.

The late dinner was filled with the rambles of Mrs. Hudson. This had completely diverted the detective's concentration, and Christine made no move of cutting in. This had brought dismay to the detective. After dinner, he had politely asked the two ladies if he could help in cleaning up the room.

"Are you surprised?" Mrs. Hudson whispered to Christine with a smile on her lips. "Sherlock can be a gentleman sometimes. You should have seen him playing the violin last Christmas, it was just gorgeous."

Christine had seen the violin case in the bedroom on the second floor. It was the only item that was placed in neat order, seemed like its owner had treasured it very much. But after meeting its owner, Christine doubted the possibility of the violin being used the right way. This had made her worry about her future days, if she could still enjoy some peace and quiet.

The cleaning process of the second floor was relatively fast, due to the fact that Christine had never liked reading in a room of dust. For this reason, she had done some basic cleaning jobs around the room when she had time to spare. The only place she had to tidy up now would be Sherlock's bedroom.

Christine found it unnecessary to remove the traces of evidence of her living here while Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson were focusing on the bedroom. After all, there would be no way to hide anything from that pair of eyes. So, why bother?

All Christine did was throw away the utterly unacceptable objects. For example, objects that were found in the fridge were completely inedible. It wasn't long before she decided to return to her room. Of course, not to forget to say good night to Mrs. Hudson and that annoying detective. It was something she had to do ethically, even if all she would get back was a scoff from the consulting detective.