Save Yourself

"What are your qualifications?" A stern-looking woman who'd introduced herself as Miss Colette asked, staring down at me from the bridge of her spectacles. I shifted in my shit, running my hands over my black satin skirt.

"I don't know exactly what qualifies you to be a nanny, but I have two brothers who I took care of the majority of their lives," I answered, "I also took a child development class in college."

"You don't seem to have any prior jobs listed..."

"They were all back in the states." I didn't want to list my past job, for fear Derek could somehow track me down.

"Well, we'll give you a call if we think you're right for the job," She said, standing up and leading me to the door, "Thank you very much."

"Thank you." I nodded, walking out as it closed behind me. I knew she wouldn't call. What 24 year old walks into an interview to be a nanny and has no former credentials? Thankfully, her house wasn't too far of a walk from home, so the entire day wouldn't be a bust.

After the incident with Sherlock, I hadn't seen him for a few days, he and John were out of town on some kind of business, but they should be back by the time I made it home, according to Mrs. Hudson. I wasn't really sure what to do, so I'd placed the blanket on his couch with a note that read:

Thank you for an act of kindness. Appreciated.

-Jo.

I wasn't really sure how to approach Sherlock at all. He is... strange, to say the least. Different. A good kind of different. And very attractive, I couldn't deny. You could tell he took care of himself, though he didn't do it to attract others. Simply so. And that possibly made him even more attractive.

I opened the front door, which I'd found rarely locked, and almost immediately I could hear the racket above me. They were home. A very small smile spread across my lips as I headed into my own flat, nearly tripping over something in the doorway. The same blanket I'd returned to Sherlock was there, another note on top of it:

It's yours to keep.

-S

I grinned, heart skipping a few beats. Was he flirting with me? Or did he just feel sorry for me? I wasn't sure, either way... It made me smile a great deal. To some, it might just be a blanket, but to me it was an act of someone reaching out, physically handing me comfort - most likely due to the fact he lacked the ability to do it emotionally. I cradled it in my arms for a few moments before placing it on the bed. Which, I now noticed had a matching set of sheets and another note:

Sorry. Couldn't resist.

-S

I shook my head, grin spreading from ear to ear at this point. It looked like we had started a wonderful tradition of leaving notes. Grabbing the notes off of the bed, I took them to a small jewelry box in the corner (which, of course, held no jewelry) and placed the notes gingerly inside for safekeeping. Personally, they were adorable to me.

Before heading up to see how the guys' trip went, I fixed my hair and makeup just a bit in the mirror - pretending to myself that it was for myself and I could be like Sherlock, but knowing it wasn't and it was, in fact, for him. If he could notice intent behind action as well. I wasn't really sure how to flirt, I hadn't done it in so long. Especially with such a... different kind of man.

My feet lead me up the small staircase, where their door lay open. Immediately, John looked up from his newspaper and greeted me with a smile.

"Hello, Josephine! Come right in, please!" John stood up to gesture me into the room, Sherlock in the corner staring at something on a laptop.

"Please, call me Jo. Anything but Josephine."

"Jo it is, then. Would you... ah, like a cup of Joe, Jo?"

"Wow, that is a terrible joke."

"Indeed." Sherlock agreed from behind his screen.

"I would love one, thank you," I replied, sitting down on the sofa, "How was your trip?"

"Well, Sherlock managed to only try to get me killed about twice, so I would say it was a great success compared to others. We really are a terrible lot to get involved in, you might want to rethink these friendships."

I could hear Sherlock scoff in protest as he rolled his eyes, still not looking from the laptop. I also noticed the note I'd left him; not in the trash, but placed neatly in the corner with a few other things. It made me smile, though I tried very hard not to let him notice. Of course, he did. I was beginning to recognize that about him. Something he'd said earlier people hated, but I found it intriguing. A man who pays attention is hard to find.

"How are you liking the basement?" John asked as he returned to the sitting room, placing the mug in my hand.

"It's, you know... A basement; but I'm grateful for anything, really. Landlady giving someone with no job a chance is rare."

"What did you do in the states?"

I bit my lip, though I decided I could tell John, "I was a reporter for our local newspaper, online and print. Mostly small crime and things like that..."

I knew Sherlock knew about other things, whether he'd guessed it from a small doghair on my shoulder or something else ridiculous, or simply looking it up online, either way he knew. Thankfully, he didn't bring anything else up and chose to peer at me over his laptop with a knowing look, a look that said "I'll keep it to myself". I sent him a look of thanks.

"Interesting! You know, I keep a blog."

Sherlock groaned, "She doesn't want to read that."

"I would read it."

"You just don't want her to read about your antics! Let me show you." John argued, before disappearing to his room, I guessed to find his own laptop to show me.

"I don't think I can avoid the antics of either of you, living right underneath you."

"That's true. You are directly underneath us. Me, specifically. You're located right underneath my bedroom. I expect you can hear me pacing at night."

Is he flirting with me or stating the obvious?

With John out of the room, I took this opportunity to thank him.

"Thank you for everything. The other day and what you left me. It was very kind and I appreciate it."

John walked back into the room, excitement on his face and laptop in his hand.

"No idea what you could mean." Sherlock winked.

And so began what most would call the unfortunate trek of falling in love with Sherlock Holmes.