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50% The Tenant of 221C / Chapter 3: The Arrival

Capítulo 3: The Arrival

November 1st was one of the very few days when Christine could afford to give herself some time to relax. Early last month, she had completed the last chapter of the series she was writing, meaning that she would have at least 1 month of free time to spare. After enjoying her breakfast, Christine made her way to the living room on the second floor, exposing her skin to the sunlight that was coming in through the windows. She sat down on the couch, occupying herself with a novel.

After long hours of reading, Christine stood up to stretch her muscles, just to see a man across the street. He was wearing a black coat, a neat mustache under his nose. His light brown hair cut short; with a fit body shape. Without a word, he made his way towards the entrance of 221 Baker Street.

Just one of Mrs. Hudson's friends, I suppose. With this thought, Christine started making her way back to the couch. However, no sound of the doorbell could be heard. Curious, she softened her steps and made her way to the top of the stairs, her ears sharp. It was the sound of keys turning the lock naturally without a moment's hesitation, followed by the soft thud of the door closing. The man-made his way towards the staircase, stopping at the bottom.

Christine could imagine the man looking up at the roof. Shortly, Mrs. Hudson's door opened. The man cleared his throat uncomfortably, entering the room.

He might be Mrs. Hudson's relative, I suppose. With this thought, Christine picked up her book again. However, the next sound she heard was the loud bang of ceramic plates landing on the table, followed by the slightly loud scolding from Mrs. Hudson.

"...One phone call, John! That was all I needed! After all these years and incidents we had gone through!"

Christine's mind went blank for a few seconds but immediately knew who the man was - the previous tenant of the unit on the third floor. According to Mrs. Hudson, he used to be a couple with the tenant from 221B, so she had always seen him as a son in law, and was very annoyed with what he had done in the last 2 years.

However, Christine had realized one thing - after Mrs. Hudson had had a chat with him, they would likely come up to the second floor to review some of the memories. But after 2 years of settling here, some of the furniture had been moved. At least the tiny space in front of the window had been completely turned into her personal spot.

Christine closed her eyes, desperate to remember the original setup of the room, and started moving the furniture immediately. She made her way to the window softly and pushed the sofa back to the entrance of the living room. After that, she removed the small glass table and shoved the books into a concealed corner. Last, she placed the music sheets back to their stand and returned the utensils back to the kitchen.

She glanced at the dining table that was filled with scientific equipment. Luckily, she had listened to Mrs. Hudson and left it as it was 2 years ago. Otherwise, it would be impossible to put it back exactly as it was in 5 minutes' time and make absolutely no noise at all.

Christine finished cleaning the plates and put them back into the cupboard. The muffled sound of footsteps could be heard from the stairs.

She observed her surroundings. Without a single second of hesitation, she tip-toed into the bathroom, remembering to shut the wooden door as softly as she could.

The footsteps stopped abruptly at the entrance of the living room, the guest didn't advance forward. Christine guessed that he was probably thinking back on the days. She secretly prayed that his memory wasn't very precise and clear.

It seemed like her prayer had worked, even Mrs. Hudson, who soon arrived at the living room didn't point anything out. She sighed and thought back sadly, "I could never let myself rent this out again. He never allowed me to clean this room."

"Yes, I know," the guest replied quickly as if to stop the memories from flooding back in.

Christine shifted her angle slightly, watching the reflection of the mirror. The guest stared at the equipment on the table, his face grim. He was surrounded by memories that he didn't realize the existence of the third person in the room.

"Why now? What made you change your mind?" Mrs. Hudson's question pulled him straight out of his daze.

The guest shook his head, holding his hands nervously, and turned around to face Mrs. Hudson. "I have something that I have to tell you."

Christine pulled out her phone immediately and plugged in the earphones. She switched on the music to its maximum and shoved them into her ears, avoiding the conversation she was about to hear.

But it wasn't long before she heard the guest's shout of annoyance. "I am not gay!"

Christine hesitated but pulled out one of her earphones.

"I know you're not." Mrs. Hudson replied positively, but Christine could sense a hint of creepiness in it. "If you are just purely gay, you won't fall in love with a woman." Christine saw the guest's shoulders slouch in defeat, speechless of Mrs. Hudson's way of thinking.

"Now, who is this lucky woman?" Mrs. Hudson questioned, "Who was lucky enough to catch the eyes of Dr. Watson?"

"Mary Morstan," his voice became softer. "She has blonde hair, with a beautiful face and a bright personality. An ordinary person," he stressed every syllable of the last sentence.

"Very beautiful?" Mrs. Hudson's focus was way different, "when is the proposal?"

"Tonight," he replied nervously, "I booked a table at the restaurant on Marylebone Street."

"Oh wow!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.

Christine curled her lips and placed the earphone back into her ear, leaning against the wall and enjoying the blasting tune. It wasn't until she heard the food steps going down the stair that she came out from the bathroom. Without a sound, she walked towards the window and glanced down.

Mrs. Hudson held onto the guest's hand for quite a while, babbling about something, only releasing when the guest glanced at his watch several times. She said goodbye, but continue to follow the figure, until it had disappeared into the train station. She sighed and went back inside.

"I'm sorry that I heard your conversation," Christine had already left the living room, "I just thought you guys needed some time alone, so I hid in the bathroom."

It took Mrs. Hudson quite a few seconds to register the whole sentence.

"Oh! Don't worry about it. John wouldn't mind at all. If Sherlock was here, he wouldn't mind either. It's usually him who didn't like people judging him." It was as if the guest had untied a knot in Mrs. Hudson's heart, she had started to talk about the previous tenant that was living in 221B. For the first time since Christine got here, Mrs. Hudson had had the courage of telling the story.

"John was an army doctor in Afghanistan. He returned to England not long ago, but never managed to adapt to normal life all that well. It wasn't until his colleague introduced him to Sherlock that he had started to live life again." At dinner time, Mrs. Hudson started telling the memories to Christine passionately. "Although everybody thought Sherlock was just trouble to John, they really do get along. However, they're still not together yet even though Sherlock died"

Christine raised her eyebrows. After hearing the conversation this afternoon, she had known that all of this was just Mrs. Hudson's lovely theory. But she didn't want to spoil her moment.

"Sherlock was a good man, he helped me to escape from my ex-husband, that psycho that killed several people for the sake of drugs. That was why when I heard he was looking for a flat, I informed him straight away," reliving the scene plenty of years ago. "But at that time he was having some financial difficulties, due to the fact that he wanted to be independent from his brother Mycroft Holmes, a bit like you when you first arrived."

Christine smiled slightly but didn't continue the conversation. She went to the cupboard and opened the bottle of red wine that Mrs. Hudson had kindly given to her.

"It's still fairly early, but I guess a few glasses won't hurt." Mrs. Hudson gulped silently, handing over 2 wine glasses. "Sherlock John used to hide my wine secretly, saying that they're helping me to quit, but Sherlock never really managed to quit smoking himself."

Mrs. Hudson whined, looking slightly depressed. Christine poured a glass and placed it in front of Mrs. Hudson and the liquid was gone in a flash.

This had Christine raise her eyebrows again. Mrs. Hudson's addiction was worse than she thought, maybe they had done the right thing of hiding them.

"Sherlock didn't have a good temper at all, especially when he didn't have any cases, he would become very impatient. He never thought of others, saying what he wanted. Sometimes I just couldn't stand him anymore and wanted to shoo him out with a broom." Mrs. Hudson placed the wine glass on the table with a bang, as if trying to smash it.

Christine silently traced her eyes from Mrs. Hudson's fingers to her eyelids. If she poured the glass full again, it would be gone again with the minute. With this thought, she only filled the glass a quarter full, earning a glare from the landlady. But Christine just silently filled up her glass and returned the cork onto the bottle.

"If John was like you, Sherlock would've quit smoking a lot sooner," after several tries of getting the cork out but failing, Mrs.s Hudson sighed and returned to her seat, staring at Christine's wine glass.

"Unfortunately, only Mycroft had the ability to accomplish this, that man who always wears a suit and holds a black umbrella. However, he only focused on his game of power, never really caring for his younger brother," expressing her annoyance, Mrs. Hudson raised up her wine glass again, ready to have another huge gulp, just to place the empty glass on the table again awkwardly.

"I heard that for the sake of wiping out a black association, he decided to tell his younger brother's secrets to a bad guy called Jim Moriarty. This man destroyed everything that Sherlock ever had, forcing him to jump off the building," Mrs. Hudson started to cry out loud.

Reluctantly, Christine poured one-third of her wine into Mrs. Hudson's glass. She took a full gulp, finally calming down.

"Let's not talk about him. Although Sherlock could be as cold as his brother," Mrs. Hudson sighed, "but he was incredibly intelligent, understanding all the strange cases in the glance of an eye. He liked to show off, wanting to earn praise."

"But to me, he was just a kid," Mrs. Hudson smiled warmly at the memory. "To be honest, John was in some way his babysitter."

Christine replied with a soundless grin, pouring half of the red liquid into the land lady's glass. She taps the glass happily and took another gulp, the glass was empty again.

Another raise of the brows, Christine took a peek at the wine bottle that was half full, trying to think of a place to hide the wine. But there was no such place. Mrs. Hudson cleans the house weekly, she would find it for sure. As for the second floor, it was already as messy and crowded as it could be, she couldn't guarantee that adding another bottle up there would not result in an accident.

"About John, I really offer my sympathy to him. He was injured while being in the army and had to use a cane. Those idiot doctors didn't know how to cure him, but Sherlock only used one night to make him forget that cane completely," Mrs. Hudson started laughing, but it quickly disappeared from her face.

"But before he even have the chance to confess to Sherlock, Sherlock had left. He couldn't live in this unit that was filled up with memories, so he had moved out. It had been two years, he had finally walked out from the shadows and started a new life. I guess I should congratulate him," Mrs. Hudson started sobbing. Christine held her hands and poured the remaining red wine into her glass. But this time, she didn't drink it immediately.

"However, I always felt like Sherlock didn't die. He was probably living somewhere. This naughty kid, if he comes back one day just to find his beloved doctor went away with some other woman, how excruciating would it be?" Mrs. Hudson started crying loudly, pouring the wine into her mouth.

Christine watched Mrs. Hudson's tearless eyes and shook her head. She opened the wine bottle. Mrs. Hudson stared at her expectantly. Christine turned around, made her way to the sink, and poured the remaining liquid down the drain.

"No! Christine!" Mrs. Hudson cried loudly and rushed towards the sink, but could only watch the delicious red liquid flowing down the drain.

"Too much alcohol is no good for you, Mrs. Hudson," Christine stated with a grin.

"This is wasting! You are wasting precious goods!" Mrs. Hudson shouted at Christine angrily.

"Things cannot be reversed anymore," Christine shrugged.

"Then you mush be punished!" Mrs. Hudson slammed the table, pointing towards the door.

Christine stared at Mrs. Hudson with disbelief and revealed a slightly twisted smile. She turned around and exited the room.

Not for a second Christine had set her eyes on the dinner on the table, Mrs. Hudson couldn't help but feel defeated. Especially when Christine could cook more food than her, the feeling of defeat just became heavier.

But Christine didn't go look for snacks. After all, everything edible in this house was bought by Mrs. Hudson. Although she had bought some of them, Mrs. Hudson didn't really extend the topic, but if she said this is the punishment, she should accept it.

After all, the game could only continue if you obey the rules.


Capítulo 4: 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.


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