Repens

When he walked into his flat he saw the creature sitting contently in his chair by the window. With a snarl his first thought was fan-girl- he detested the very word. At first glance she was undeniably… attractive was an acceptable word. Her long flowing red hair draped over her bare shoulders to her chest. The sleeveless green satin blouse had straps two inches wide and was almost too low cut for his personal taste- not that he had time to be noticing such details. Ivory colored heels peeked out from under the hem of her dark navy boot cut jeans. All of this was taken note of in his first glance of her. The stranger’s posture was relaxed with just a hint of anxiousness- sitting up straight with her legs crossed and arms loosely crossed. She grinned a little, almost teasingly but more confident than playful.
Now came the analytical viewing of his unwanted surprise guest. Her bangs were cut unevenly so she or a friend had done it- money is apparently a bit tight or she simply doesn’t care enough to go to a proper hair salon. Her nails had been chewed off but painted with a nice ruby color- a horrid nervous habit that was never grown out of. Cover-up was fresh in a natural looking style- obviously trying to look her best. Her small silver treble clef necklace suggested she was somehow involved with music, most likely a singer since her fingers were not callused in any way. The expensive watch on her left wrist was an older fashion, probably a meaningful gift from a few years back- family member from the looks of it. The few tiny holes in her jeans were not present when the jeans were purchased- she wasn't entirely the indoor girl she appeared.
"Let me guess, adoring fan?" he sneered while taking off his scarf and coat, hiding every last trace of his curiosity.
"Not quite," she chuckled before slightly rolling her eyes.
"You came in through the front door and wasn't heard, but how?" he sighed, almost bored yet somehow intrigued. She was supposed to be dull by now- it had already been a minute-but she wasn't the average young female he was accustomed to dealing with.
"Oh, I have connections," she smiled again, pleased with giving him an apparent challenge. "Is there something familiar about me, Mr. Holmes?"
Yes, there was. She reminded him of a certain woman he knew a few years back with her mysterious cheerful indifference. But there was something else about her that was so natural to him, as if he already knew her. And those brilliant sparkling eyes.
"Oh, come on. You must be, what, eighteen?" Sherlock growled before grabbing his violin and sitting in the chair opposite of her, where John usually sat.
"Please." She groaned with sarcasm. "You're the genius mastermind. Sherlock Holmes." She paused and seemed more relaxed than before. "I'm not eighteen. Look at me for heaven's sake."
He was officially more annoyed than amused by this, this thing!
"Alright, you. Tell me who you are and then get out of my flat. Surly you have better things to do."
"My name is unwanted, mischievous, and restless," dramatically sighed the young woman. It was Sherlock's turn to roll his eyes at her overly theatrical reply.
"Getting bored," he loudly announced in a flat tone. He quickly raised his violin and bow.
Before a single note was played, she spoke again, "I'm not here to entertain you, Mr. Holmes. I'm not here to spy on you for that matter. And I'm no fan-girl as you undoubtedly suspect." She paused but received no reaction from the arrogant brute blankly staring at her. "I'm familiar because I inherited more of my aunt's looks than either of my parents'- thank goodness. "Stephanie Thomas is the name. My aunt is your beloved…"
"Mrs. Hudson," he finished, slightly amused again. "I'm afraid the dear woman has never mentioned you," he stated in hopes of making the girl feel underappreciated or unloved.
"That's alright. I don't have the pleasure of seeing her much anymore. Her and mother had somewhat of a falling out a few years back. I was given the choice of taking a holiday with my parents to the states or staying with my dear aunt-who just happens to be land lady to the great Sherlock Holmes- who I imagined a bit taller. No offense but I'm not here for you, per say. Just happens that of the two choices I was given you are far more interesting to me than the states. America is so dull."
"Dull" was said by Stephanie and Sherlock in unison.
Immediately, she put on that dopey little grin again. It was starting to drive him crazy and make him more uncomfortable than he had been in quite a while. A nicotine patch was soon to come. Not having anything to say, Sherlock began playing a neutral tone, neither happy nor sad. Neutral- how he wished he could feel about this little pest. For a moment he wondered what the devil she was doing in his living room and couldn't think of a good reason she was not with her aunt at present. Suddenly remembering that today was grocery shopping day for Mrs. Hudson, it made him all the more agitated that the land lady did not take her mischievous niece with her. Sherlock then started to wonder exactly how long the mysterious little thing had been waiting for him.
"And you are not with her because…?" he stopped playing to wait for her response, letting it be known that she wasn't entirely welcome there.
Stephanie uncrossed her long legs, leaned in towards him, blushed, and finally asked, "If you were a dumb little girl, wouldn't you rather meet a legend than go grocery shopping with your ever lecturing aunt?"
Sherlock placed his instrument on the floor, leaned in towards her as she had done to him, and stared into her eyes for the first time, studying her. She was neither completely relaxed nor nervous in the least; she was teasing him now. The girl was attempting to play little pointless mind games with him. Not in the mood to play, but still so irritatingly curious, he felt the corner of his mouth rise in a crooked smirk.
"But you aren't a 'dumb little girl', are you?"
Not breaking his stare, even moving in ever so slightly closer, she stated, "You are the brilliant detective. I'll leave you to your deductions… Mr. Holmes."
Her calling him "Mr. Holmes" was beginning to get on his nerves. Then again, he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted her to call him. He didn't want her to continue grinning in that way but he didn't know what other expression he prefered. Her indifference towards him was unexpected and wounded his pride a bit more than he would even admit to himself. But why should he want her to be more interested in him than she appeared to be? Was it a bluff? After arguing with himself about such trivial things, Sherlock decided that he officially didn't care for Mrs. Hudson's niece.
"Hello, Sherlock!"
The land lady's greeting startled them both. They speedily returned to their previous positions, Stephanie sitting straight with legs crossed and Sherlock sitting back in John's chair reaching down for his violin.
"I see the two of you have met. This is my…"
"Stephanie, your sister's daughter I assume," Sherlock rudely interrupted.
"Yes, silly me," the woman giggled. "Of course you probably knew who she was the first time you laid eyes on her."
"Actually, it took him about three minutes, auntie. He wasn't quite as quick as you described. It must be an off day for him," the annoyance gloated, making Sherlock's blood boil.
He could not believe that she had just called him out and degraded his intelligence. It was not an off day, he thought to himself- she was the one who was "off". She may as well have been calling him names with that little ridiculous smile of hers. He would make a proper fool of her if only he could read her a little better. Yes, Miss Thomas reminded him of someone, indeed. He entertained the thought of this, the red hair and all, being a clever disguise but knew that it clearly wasn't so. This was no Irene Adler, though very similar.
John walked in and immediately realized the multiple moods floating around in the room. Mrs. Hudson was happy as usual, putting away the week's groceries. Sherlock had been put in a mood more foul than usual and that could only mean he was extremely irritated by something- or someone. His gaze finally found the beautiful stranger sitting in the chair, a possible culprit of Sherlock's dagger-like eyes. He walked over to the lovely creature and held out his hand with the most charming smile he could manage without being obviously giddy.
"Hello, my name is…"
"John! Yes, my aunt has told me all about you. It's a true pleasure!"
There was that blasted happy expression again. Did she ever not smile? Sherlock noticed his friend's rosy cheeks and modest glance to the floor. The girl hadn't expressed such warm friendly comments upon meeting him and he was the one who did all of the work. Were her ill manners a reaction to his lack of concern towards her from the very start? If he had been more pleasant to her, would she have been kinder to him in return? Oh, this child was a nuisance in every meaning of the word.
"Your aunt," John asked, still acting as a school boy with an elementary crush.
"Yes, John! Cassidy is the niece of our lovely Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock explained in a flat tone.
"Stephanie," the girl corrected with a disapproving glance, knowing good and well he was taunting her.
"Instead of taking a delightful holiday to America, this," not knowing what to call the little trouble maker, he continued after a short pause. "She preferred to visit London, with her aunt."
Noticing Sherlock's uneasiness, John couldn't help but chuckle. With a glance from the cool and collected Stephanie to his maddened flat mate, John returned his attention to the young woman and whispered, "Have you crossed this fellow in any way?"
Briefly staring at Sherlock, she turned back towards John and announced, "He isn't pleased with me. You see, your dear Mr. Holmes expected me to be a fan of his who had snuck in to wait for him. My being so cheerful puts him off in a horrible way and he flinches every time I refer to him as 'Mr. Holmes'. He is having a bit of a challenge in figuring me out- either he doesn't want to so I may remain a pleasant mystery to him or he disciplines himself to not overanalyze those he cares or could possibly care about."
Everyone in the room was completely shocked and speechless. Hiding his own surprise, Sherlock studied the ceiling and plunked at the violin strings a few times. John Watson was impressed at this unexpected display of aptitude. This was truly an extraordinary young woman who was well on her way to becoming a female Sherlock Holmes.
"My gracious, that was fantastic! If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?" John asked, trying to contain his shock for his best friend's sake. This reminded him of the first deduction he heard Sherlock utter.
"Yes, how old are you, Cassidy?" Sherlock asked in a sarcastic manner, just to be crude.
Ignoring his childish comment, Stephanie answered the pleasant doctor as if she didn't hear Sherlock, "I'm a full adult, Dr. Watson. That is all that needs to be said."
"Oh, don't be modest," Sherlock groaned in disgust, still not making eye contact with anyone. “You can’t be that old, still living with mummy and daddy.”
“I go to university, actually and graduate next spring. My parents pay for whatever my scholarship doesn’t so in return I visit them for the summer. Besides, it’s much cheaper than renting a flat for three months.”
“You couldn’t find a flat mate?” Sherlock chuckled, continuing to insult the girl.
"It’s rare that I find someone tolerable enough to live with- but I’m sure you don’t have that problem.” She had turned the tables on him once again. Returning her attention back to John, she became pleasant and asked, “How do you manage, doctor? You and Mr. Holmes seem so very different- opposite ends of the manners spectrum."
It was said in a tone that would be used to comment on the loveliness of the weather. But she was politely speaking extremely ill of him. From only feet away, she was digging her nails into his brain, teasing him with the games he usually amused himself with at the expense of others. So this is what it is like, Sherlock thought in silent rage. Well, missy, I've been playing the game much longer and can play longer and more efficient, he mused to himself.
"He really isn't like this most of the time. He just… doesn't like unexpected company," Watson lied.
"It's quite alright. As I told Mr. Holmes, I'm not here for him or his company. I do not wish to get to know him on a personal level, which he clearly does not desire of me likewise, and I was simply waiting on my aunt."
"Now, Steph, don't upset poor Sherlock. He either had a rough day or he's going to have a rough night," Mrs. Hudson chimed in from the kitchen.
Sherlock stopped fidgeting with the violin and actually began to play a lively careless tune. Knowing exactly what was going on, John gave an apologetic look to their pretty guest. She gave him a small nod in return, thanking him for being on her side.
"Alright, Steph, let's leave these gentlemen to their work. If you need anything, boys, I'll be downstairs," she stated in the familiar melodic tone she used in her greetings and farewells. The two of them had become more like family than merely renters.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, doctor," the girl sighed with an oh well shrug.
"It was absolutely lovely to meet you as well, Stephanie. I hope we'll see more of you. How long are you staying?"
"Mr. Holmes will have to put up with me for an entire fortnight, I'm afraid," she replied with a tone that almost sent Sherlock into a mad rant.
Not only had she called him Mr. Holmes with the purpose of further irritating him, but she made him out to be the nasty one in this little game they had started. Who could make the other scream first? Sherlock felt a new obsession coming over him. It was going to be his personal mission to make Cassidy pull out all of her red hair in fourteen days- starting now.
"Have a wonderful evening, Miss Cassidy. I hope you find your visit less dull than the states," he said in a pleasant tone filled to the brim with mockery.
"Oh, it already has been… Mr. Sherlock."
By the time he glanced over at her, she was already out the door. Rising to his feet, Sherlock continued playing the tune he had started just moments ago. He paced back and forth with an energy Watson hadn't seen in at least a week. Now sitting on the sofa, John watched his on edge friend while trying not to smile.
"Well, that was something different," he noted, waiting for the anxious Sherlock's reply.
"Different? What was different?" Sherlock asked with an oblivious expression, now only carrying the instrument as he paced.
"Oh, you can't be serious," John laughed at his friend's unrelenting stubbornness. "Look what she's done to you. She made you look like a fool and has captured your special attention all in one meeting. Surly there must be some sort of award or certificate for that."
"The girl has done nothing of the sort. She's merely read my page and your blog a thousand times and has dipped her little toes into the ocean of the science of deduction. She's nothing but a fan-girl, John."
"She's more than that if she can get you all worked up like this, wouldn't you say? I mean, she hardly even looked at you."
"She intently stared at me before anyone else was here, playing little games. Annoying and dull," Sherlock growled, in a more horrible mood than before.
After watching Holmes for a few silent seconds, the obvious hit John like a bag of bricks. How could it have taken him this long to see it? There had only been one woman to outsmart Sherlock and they had possibly just met the second. And there was one thing Sherlock couldn't resist- an amusing challenge.
"You really fancy her."
Stopping in his tracks, the rude genius had a most unpleasant expression before assuring, "How could anyone fancy that?"
"I'm sorry. 'That'?"
"Yes, that, that…"
"My goodness, you're at a loss for words. You can't even think of a horrid name to call her. You always have horrid names to call people."
"That repulsive creature! There, are you happy now?"
"Well, if you don't fancy her, then would you mind if I had a go at her, chat her up a bit?"
"Would I mind? Why on earth would I mind? The girl is nothing to me."
"Stephanie, not Cassidy by the way, is hardly a girl. She's a beautiful, intelligent…"
"Bored!" Sherlock yelled, playing the last portion of the song he had started several times.
"I think you do like her though. Only one other woman…"
Sherlock began playing louder and louder until John wouldn't be heard even if he chose to finish his sentence. The friend shook his head not understanding why such a brilliant man had to be so bloody difficult. It wasn't until John was down the stairs and out of sight that Holmes stopped and threw the violin down. Staring out the window with his hands crossed behind his back, a million thoughts were flashing through his mind.
"Challenge accepted, Miss Thomas."