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.
When Christine was free, she had always preferred to sleep in. When she woke up, the sun was shining brightly.
She made her preparation for the day; getting changed into casual clothes, not forgetting to wrap the sapphire scarf around her neck. Christine observed her reflection on the mirror and tied her hair back into a ponytail. After all, there were no longer just Mrs. Hudson and herself living at 221 Baker Street. And Furthermore, a man with ridiculously and annoying sharp eyes.
Christine opened the door of 221C, thinking if she should make breakfast herself, or ask Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson appeared from her room with a silver plate. On top of that were two fine china cups and a pot of freshly made tea. Obliviously, they had guests upstairs, two of them to be exact.
"Good morning Christine! Will you still be having dinner on the second floor?" Mrs. Hudson approached her, looking slightly anxious. "Sherlock's brother is here, Mycroft Holmes. I told you last night, he's not really a good man, so...."
"Will he be bothered by what I'm wearing right now?" Christine blinked.
"Of course, he won't. Sherlock once went to the Buckingham Palace with a white sheet, and Mycroft had no control of him whatsoever. He doesn't have any right to have any objections about what you wear," Mrs. Hudson said with a disproving tone, suddenly remembering something. "Would you still like to have breakfast on the second floor, Christine?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson," Christine offered her hands with a grin, "Would you like me to take it upstairs?"
"Yes please," Mrs, Hudson handed her the plate immediately. "I'll go and prepare your breakfast right now, and their snacks." She made her way to her room.
Christine closed her door silently and tip-toed up the stair. She must admit, she was curious about the daily lives of the Holmes brothers. According to Mrs. Hudson, they didn't seem to be on good terms.
"If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I'm living in a world of goldfish."
The stranger's voice had seemed warm and soft, but the meaning of the sentence was as sharp as Sherlock's. Christine couldn't help but think the consulting detective had gotten that venomous tongue due to the pressure of his brother.
"Yes, but I've been away for two years," Sherlock's voice had become uncertain, not his usual self.
"So?" Mycroft replied, fully clear of the point.
"Oh, I don't know. I thought, perhaps, you might have found yourself a... goldfish."
Seriously, every single sentence that comes out of the consulting detective's mouth was enough to drive anyone mad. Sherlock could always grasp the person's weakest spot, even when it comes to his brother.
"Change the subject, now." the other Holmes complained quickly, shifting his body, clearly uncomfortable by the question.
"I can guarantee everything else, Mycroft. I don't care if it's your underground connection, or some secret association hiding in some secret place."
Sherlock changed the subject obediently, getting into serious business. Christine knew it was time for her to make an appearance. As a foreigner, she really shouldn't know too much about the English government.
"Excuse me!" Christine enters the living room with a smile, placing the silver plate on the dining table. She glanced at Sherlock who was sitting on the couch and his brother who is leaning against the fireplace. "Mrs. Hudson asked me to deliver the tea upstairs, I hope that I didn't interrupt your conversation. I usually have breakfast on the second floor, if you won't mind."
"Of course not," Sherlock's brother replied politely, there was no way you could see the superior aura that was there a moment ago. He looked towards his brother disapprovingly, "Sherlock, as the owner of this unit, shouldn't you be introducing her?" But his eyes were filled with question.
Did you hear any footsteps?
To Christine, the man who was wearing an expensive three-piece suit, his hair combed back neatly, along with a warm smile and a slightly wide body, gives everyone a good first impression. She really couldn't imagine him being Sherlock's brother. But of course, this was only on the outside. Just by listening to the previous conversation, she could see that this man is even more proud than his younger brother, someone to be reckoned with.
"Don't act like you don't know anything!" Sherlock sneered, "As if you don't know anything about her. Given the fact that you are indeed the British Government, and that you clearly know I will be living at Baker Street, I can guarantee - you searched up every single piece of information about her." Just to add to the drama, Sherlock turned his head and scanned Christine from head to toe.
But after observing her slippers, Sherlock replied Mycroft with a certain expression.
No!
"Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted out angrily. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and smiled again. "I'm Mycroft Holmes," his smile too friendly to be real. "I'm sorry that I did some research about you, Miss Su. After all, my younger brother could never really settle."
"Not a problem," Christine replied lightly at the older Holmes, pouring some tea. "Mrs. Hudson informed me about how much power you had in your hands. That was why the moment I saw Mr... Sherlock Holmes, I knew that my future days would be full of adventures and, annoyances. If not for that I have grown to like this place, I would've moved out first thing. Would you like milk and sugar, Mr. Mycroft Holmes?"
"No, thank you. I really do offer my condolences," Mycroft said apologetically, but his gaze reviewed Christine.
Her deduction skills were fast.
"Please stop being so fake to each other, it's revolting," Sherlock grabbed his throat in exaggeration. Mycroft gave him a stare, which he gladly returned.
This woman is better than what we thought.
Sherlock revealed his discovery from last night. "You two can clearly see through each other at the first glance."
"Really?" Mycroft turned his gaze towards Christine, a hint of surprise. It had seemed that this piece of information did not appear on his desk. And furthermore: Do normal people have superior observing abilities like this?
"Are you kidding me?!" Sherlock gasped in exaggeration, "I can't believe your workers were this clumsy! Honestly, you should fire them as soon as you can! They can't even do a thing!" He wore a disgusted expression while looking at Christine.
Something's definitely wrong with this woman.
Sherlock's gaze landed once again on his brother.
Mrs. Hudson treats this woman as her own daughter. You will be in charge of this.
He delivered his suggestion, "You should just hire her straight away. After all, she was able to deduct all my 'adventures' last night in a short period of time."
"I'm Chinese, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" Christine picked up the saucer and made her way to the guest, "and right now, I have no intention of becoming British. Please enjoy your tea, Mr. Mycroft Holmes." She handed the black tea to him.
"Thank you!" The elder Holmes gladly accepted the teacup, and held Christine's hand. "Are you free tonight, Miss Su? I would like you to join me for dinner," he asked sincerely with a friendly smile.
"Are you seriously thinking of hiring her?" Sherlock gasped with shock. He really didn't expect Mycroft to take his suggestion so lightly.
Christine didn't miss the silent conversation between the Holmes brothers, most of it she could understand. Not to forget, she used to have a person that she could connect with just an exchange of glances. She knew very well what Mycroft's invitation had meant. However, she really didn't have a choice.
Christine blinked a few times and finally replied. "It's my pleasure."
"What do you think of the restaurant on Marylebone Street?" Mycroft asked politely for the lady's opinion, "I love the Saint Emilion from the year 2001."
"Are you laughing at my failure, Mycroft?" Sherlock jumped onto the sofa, shouting at his brother angrily. Christine had to pinch herself to stifle a laugh.
"I don't have a formal dress, never liked one either," Christine replied apologetically. She didn't think it would be appropriate to wear something too casual to the restaurant where Dr. Watson had proposed.
Sherlock skipped down the sofa and scoffed, "Thank you for your kindness, My Queen!"
"How did you know this?" Christine was clearly startled. "I never said anything of this matter in front of Mrs. Hudson!"
"There was already enough," Sherlock looked very satisfied by Christine's stunned expression. He returned to his spot on the sofa, explaining proudly, "A free author, lived in England for more than 2 years, quite well known to the public. Obviously, not many of the pen names fitted all those details. Your English name is Christine. You divided it into two parts, changing the pronunciation of 'r' in 'chri' to 'w', which is the pronunciation of 'queen'. As for 'Stine', it is pronounced as Stan in another language. If you put the two together, it will be Queen Stan."
"Am I right, My Queen?" Sherlock's lips curved upwards.
"Can you please be quiet for one second, Sherlock?!" Mycroft commented in annoyance.
"Nope! I'm bored," Sherlock rejected the suggestion mercilessly.
"Well!" Mycroft stared at the ceiling and then smile at Christine, "I guarantee that I will find a place where formal dresses are not required while sophisticated food will be provided."
"Thank you for thinking about my opinions, Mr. Mycroft Holmes," Christine thanked him. Mycroft kissed her hand, causing Christine to blush slightly.
"Stop it! Mycroft! It's disgusting," Sherlock gawked, "Mrs. Hudson will not allow you to flirt with her tenant."
"For the first time, I actually agree with you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" Christine retracted her hands immediately and placed the remaining cup on the detective's hand and suddenly became serious. "Mrs. Hudson would definitely not allow him to flirt with you."
"We are biological brothers for god's sake! Miss Su," Mycroft twisted his brows slightly, but Sherlock literally screamed. "Something like that would NEVER happen between us."
"Oh, lovely brothers!" Christine made her way to the office desk, hugging the serving plate. She blinked and commented romantically, "stuck with each other forever, bonded with blood!"
Sherlock shook his body, while Mycroft had cold shivers down his spine. Both of them did what their instincts told them. They took the cup from the saucer and sipped the warm liquid down their throats. But after, both of them stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the Chinese lady who was smiling uncontrollably.
Did that woman do this on purpose? Did she just say that to make them drink the tea? The Holmes brothers thought silently and looked at each other. Surprisingly, neither of them had an answer.
"Don't worry, I bear no interest whatsoever in drugs," Christine stated calmly, putting the truth out there. It was like she had admitted her purpose of saying such things, but nothing was revealed through her expression and speech.
The Holmes brothers' mood went from bad to worse. They knew very well that this was a warning from Christine, a warning that could become dangerous anytime. It seemed like she had looked through their trail of thoughts to a certain degree. She knew their goals and their purposes. This had also meant, that she was definitely not some ordinary person.
"How is the tea?" Mrs. Hudson's voice rang out from the entrance, not realizing the heavy atmosphere at all.
"Good," Sherlock gulped the warm liquid, exclaiming whole-heartedly. "It's been ages since I last tasted this familiar flavor."
"I remember you never really cared much about my tea," Mrs. Hudson's memory was certainly not as bad as a goldfish. She looked at Sherlock suspiciously.
"As you can see, two years of wandering around the world had really changed me," Sherlock placed the cup on the table, stretching his limbs. He stared at his brother with compassion. It seems like you have got quite a lot on your hands. That woman is a person to be reckoned with!
All thanks to you! Mycroft eyed Sherlock with annoyance, lifting his cup again. However, this time when he put it down again, not a single drop of liquid had disappeared.
Cautious man. Christine thought while making her way towards Mrs. Hudson.
"Here's your breakfast, Christine," Mrs. Hudson handed the breakfast plate to the female tenant, taking the serving plate at the same time. She picked up a piece of the chocolate slice, "Are you still going to have breakfast beside the window?"
"Of course, as you know, I love the sun," Christine placed the breakfast plate on the office table, walking towards the sofa.
"When did you move that sofa?" Mrs. Hudson gasped slightly, confused.
"Yesterday, when Dr. Watson came. I thought he would like everything to be in their original places, so I shifted everything." Christine bent down and held the armrest, lifting it off the ground and back to its spot by the window.
"You are such a thoughtful girl!" Mrs. Hudson praised, eyeing the other tenant. "Sherlock, why don't you go and help the lady?"
"Obviously, she doesn't need any help," Sherlock stated the truth calmly, but the cautiousness in his eyes had grown. This woman is very fit, had she trained with heavy weights before?
"Seriously Sherlock, you never grow up. Although I am very happy that you are back, but..." Mrs. Hudson's excitement disappeared within three seconds, "Can't you just think of others for a while? Of course, I am not your mother, but honestly, can you stop playing these childish games?" The landlady picked up the box labeled "Operation". In order to complete this game, the player had to use a pair of tweezers to take out the organ from the body without touching anything else. If failed, there would be an alarm.
"You are over thirty years old," She placed the afternoon tea serving plate onto the table forcibly. "Can't you help your brother with something more important? For example, about the government?"
"I'm thirty-one, that one's thirty-eight," Sherlock smiled happily after seeing Mrs. Hudson's stunned expression. "We were discussing the siege that is about to happen, created by a certain underground organization."
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't know that you two...." Mrs. Hudson looked like she wanted to hide in a hole. She picked up the game box again and asked seriously, "Is this part of your equipment?"
"Pftt!!!!!" Christine, who was enjoying her serving of milk, gave the window a lovely shower. Mycroft's hand froze for 3 seconds then continued placing the teacup on the table. Sherlock's face was as hard as a rock. It took him much effort to spit out one syllable, "...NO!"
"You mean that this was really just some ordinary game?" Mrs. Hudson's expression was turning hard again.
"...Yes." Sherlock really wanted to deny it, but 3 out of 4 people in this room had the ability to see through everything. So, even though Mrs. Hudson was the only one that didn't understand, he honestly couldn't see the need to lie, because that would just be a waste of time.
"I really don't know what I should do with you, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson shrieked angrily, "You are smart, and very successful. But you always choose to spend your time on things that are completely unimportant! You..." her eyes becoming cloudy, "...you are an adult now. You should know what should be done, why do I still have to tell you this?"
"P-Please don't cry, Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock stood up nervously, looking everywhere not knowing what to do to stop those head-aching tears. Christine, who was cleaning the window quickly fetched a few pieces of tissue, handing them to Sherlock hurriedly.
Mycroft couldn't help but raise his brows at the sight. Just like Sherlock, she couldn't stand the sight of Mrs. Hudson's tears. It seemed like they had always seen Mrs. Hudson as their dearest.
"Promise!" Mrs. Hudson blocked Sherlock's hands, not allowing him to wipe away the tears.
"..Promise what?" Sherlock's face was as twisted as the woven ropes.
"Promise me that you will find another partner as quickly as possible, not being depressed over John's marriage," Mrs. Hudson said with a serious face. Sherlock felt a whoosh of wind blowing him away to the Netherlands. He honestly had no idea how Mrs. Hudson's brain worked. Like, how the hell did she change the topic to finding a partner all of a sudden? They were talking about the game for god's sake!
"I wasn't depressed! John being married had nothing to do with me whatsoever! Plus, I don't need a partner!" Sherlock shouted sentence after sentence, collapsing on the sofa after.
"If you are not depressed over this, then why in the world would you play something like this?" Mrs. Hudson wiped away her tears and looked towards Mycroft, who replied with a confused expression. She continued, "obviously your brother didn't suggest this."
Mycroft looked like "someone finally understands my pain", Sherlock curled himself on the sofa completely. "Don't say it again!" He sounded like a deflated balloon.
"Then what about me telling you to get a partner?" Mrs. Hudson made no move of retreating. "What about Christine?" she pulled Christine in front of Sherlock, "She is really good at cooking and cleaning, and...."
"She accepted an invitation to dinner with somebody in front of my face. And surprise, that somebody is my brother," Sherlock cut off Mrs. Hudson immediately, back to himself again. "There's no way I would fight with him for the sake of a woman," he straightened his, blinking at the ladies with innocence.
"It is just dinner, Sherlock!" Mycroft stared down at his younger brother. And I believe it was you who gave me that suggestion!
All I did was suggest you hire her. Sherlock shrugged. He put his chin on his fingers, blinking at Mycroft. "Who knows if you would do some vigorous exercise with her after dinner?"
Christine suddenly realized that Sherlock was trying to create some misunderstanding about her relationship with Mycroft so he could totally change the topic and Mrs. Hudson's focus. Right now, it was working very well.
Mrs. Hudson looked horrified and pulled Christine back to the sofa and whispered, "You still remember what I told you last night? Christine! Sherlock's brother is a cold-blooded animal that would do anything for the sake of power! You should not fall for his looks!" Sadly, she didn't know about the two brothers' superior hearings.
"Mrs. Hudson!" Mycroft forced out a smile, "all I did was invite Miss Su for dinner." Never had he thought that one day he would be treated as a robber by an ordinary old lady.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock comforted the landlady, looking at his brother with smug. "My brother is not looking for a goldfish, he was looking for a pair of eyes." He used a slightly over-revealing simile.
"Goldfish and eyes?!" Mrs. Hudson's expression was as stunned as ever. "What do you think Christine is?!"
"A kind of fish and a type of human organ," Christine explained with an innocent tone, blinking at the Holmes brothers playfully.
"Unbelievable!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, "how could you two look down at females like this! If your mother hears about this..."
"I think it is time to go back to work," Mycroft interrupted with a smile. He had already informed their parents about the return of Sherlock, which meant that they might be here anytime this week. He really did not want to give anyone any chance of accusation towards him. "If you don't mind," he made his way to the exit.
"Same here," Sherlock bounced up from the sofa. Making their mother angry was something the brothers had always avoided. "Back to work," he grinned at Mrs. Hudson and stepped on the table, staring at the maps and pictures he pinned on the walls in concentration.
Mrs. Hudson stared at the brothers disapprovingly. She looked back at Christine, just to see a starving young woman.
"I needed the breakfast, Mrs. Hudson." Christine stopped devouring her food and looked back at Mrs. Hudson apologetically.
"Very good! No one is listening to me!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed and stretched out her hands. She made her way to the kitchen angrily.
"Very bad idea," Sherlock started calmly.
"Same to you," Christine, not admitting defeat.
"Beep..." The sound of a new message. Christine took out her phone, finding a stranger's number. But when she saw the message, a smirk appeared on her face.
How about 6pm?
---- MH
Sure.
---- CS
I'll be waiting in my car.
---- MH
Yes, Sir.
---- CS
"Do you want to know where my brother is going to take you tonight?" Sherlock squatted down and cast a glance at Christine.
"Don't you think not knowing makes it more exciting?"
"Ridiculous hormones!" Sherlock fanned himself with disgust.
"But many people love them," the smile disappeared from her face, "except you."
"You talking about me, or Mycroft?" Sherlock wondered.
"Maybe both," Christine chuckled evilly, shoving the food into her mouth.
"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson's voice rang out from the kitchen. It wasn't long until she was standing at the entrance.
"Yes?" Caught in the act, Sherlock twisted his body around immediately and grinned at the landlady.
"Did you talk to John again?" Mrs. Hudson narrowed her eyes, like a monster who would pounce after the first sound of denial.
"Yes, of course." Sherlock ensured, but his head drooped in disappointment.
"What did he say?" she asked worriedly.
"Fuck off!" Sherlock shouted, jumping from the table onto the sofa. The two ladies could feel their hearts almost jumping out from their nostrils.
"Never ever do that again!" Mrs. Hudson marched back to the kitchen.
"I will try," Sherlock typed on his phone and replied half-heartedly
"I really can't believe that you are thirty-one," Christine patted her chest. She almost gave the table another shower.
Sherlock smiled sweetly and went back to his phone.
Christine shrugged and continued devouring her breakfast.
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