Walking Toward the End

I stepped out of my plane to be greeted by my best friend, Molly.
She pulled me into a strangling hug, "Oh, I've missed you!"
I squirmed free of her grip to get her gift, "I got you a stuffed koala. I would have gotten you a real one, but apparently that's illegal.”
She laughed lightly. “Come on, let’s get a cab. I was able to get you a good price on a flat with my…friend”
The way she said 'friend' made me wonder how complicated their relationship was. If it was more or less, or if it was different only in her head.
We crawled into the cab and Molly told the driver, "221B, Baker Street"
-x-
I knew life at 221B would be interesting when I got to the door. I was about to knock when it flew open. A tall, thin man stood in a way to say he was better than anyone in the room. His dark hair curly, eyes that were relatively small and intelligent, like every winking second he was in deep thought. How right I was.
He reached out his hand, which I shook. "I'm Sherlock."
"Eveline."
He half-smiled at Molly, looked into the flat and yelled, "Mrs. Hudson!"
A small blonde, brown eyed lady walked to the door. "Oh, thank you Sherlock."
He disappeared into the flat as Mrs. Hudson ushered us inside.

Mrs. Hudson led the way upstairs.
Newspaper clippings and printed articles were sprawled across the tables. Sherlock was leaning forward in his chair, palms pressed together in concentration. In a bedroom, single bed sat across a window, on the next wall was a cedar wardrobe. Above the bed was an empty bulletin board.
"Is this alright, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
I looked at Molly and smiled. "It's great."
Mrs. Hudson nodded, "I'll leave you to settle in," with a quick glance back, added, "be careful if you open the refrigerator."
"What were you doing in Australia?" Sherlock asked from behind me.
"You told him?" I asked Molly.
She shook her head.
"How do you know?"
He launched into his deduction, "Your hair is lighter at the tips than the roots, and you have a tan. You've been somewhere with a lot of sun, yet you're wearing a jacket. Of course, it's cold here, but you've just arrived. So, either it was recently cold where you were, or you took the time to get it out of your case, but hardly anyone does that. Molly is holding a koala, which could only be a gift. Most reflect where they're from. The only place like that? Australia."
I nodded, "Same Sherlock."
Molly's eyes darted between us. "You know each other?"
Sherlock left silently. I pulled my bleach blonde hair into a bun and started to unpack, talking lightly with Molly. My folded clothes were transferred to the wardrobe, my writing notebooks put on the desk. Lastly I pinned pictures from Australia onto the board.
"So," I said, "Sherlock doesn't notice?"
Molly's cheeks flushed. "What...what do you mean?"
"Oh, come on," we stepped into the sitting room, "it's so obvious"
"What's obvious?" Sherlock interjected.
Molly looked at me with a silent plead. "Just that...Molly's wearing a new shirt."
Sherlock nodded. "Yes..."
I took a better look at the room. A red rug was layed in the center. A union flag pillow sat on a red armchair. Two more chairs and a sofa were positioned towards the center of the room. A mirror hung above the fireplace mantle, which held a skull, candles, and multiple photographs, two of which were a woman...
"Is she dead?" I asked, pointing to a picture.
"Yes" Sherlock replied from his chair, "is it that hard?"
I rolled my eyes, "no, but I am wondering why you have pictures of a dead woman on your fireplace. I don't suppose they're set up to be burnt."
The door opened, and a brown eyed, light blonde man stepped in.
"Um, hello" He said, "I'm John"
I shook his hand. "Eveline"
John nodded, "Right. Molly's talked about you."
"So uh, what are you doing?"

He described his case to me. A woman was found lying dead in a football field. No wounds, as far as they know. They haven't done an autopsy on the body yet. She was lying on her side like she went to sleep.
"Maybe she was a suicide," I suggested.
John shook his head, "She has bruises on her wrists, like she was struggling from someone-"
Sherlock cut in, "I need to examine the body."
He sprang up and grabbed his coat, trailed by John, Molly and I.
After he hailed a cab, he said, "I need to think. Evie, you're sharing this cab with me."
"Why?" I asked.
"You won't talk"
I shrugged, he was probably right. As I closed the door, I heard John ask Molly, "Since when has he called her 'Evie'?"

We spent half the ride in silence. Sherlock's mouth moved, muttering silently. He made me jump when he said, "You never answered my question."
I looked at him blankly. "Question?"
"Why were you in Australia?"
"Oh, right. I was at a writing academy."
Sherlock nodded, dismissing the conversation and leaving me in silence.