Fleeting Impressions | J.M.

2: deductions

Home. It was small, not much to see, but it was my first home by myself. No pestering brothers with agents and cases, just myself.

I couldn't even be bothered to get a pet. With the way I take care of things, I wouldn't think it would last anyway. I'm not a keep-captive-animals-in-my-house kind of person. No matter how cute they are.

So I was alone.

Probably not the best scenario for a girl by herself. But I wasn't just some small town girl like these people thought I was. I was a Holmes. And the Holmes were raised to fight back and get dirty. But in a dignified way.

I can't even count how many times Mycroft threw me on my arse as a child without even scuffing his tailcoat. We were a sip tea and throw insults kind of family. No matter how many mind games we played with each other, it usually ended up in some sort a brawl.

I wander to myself if they would still be willing to do such a thing. Probably too "proper" now I would say.

Sitting down at my small round kitchen table, I stir the pasta I made in a circle before picking up a perfect spiral of noodles. Before it even reaches my mouth, a knock sounds at the door only a few meters from me.

I whip around in frustration. Who could be at my house at- I look at the clock- 8:11 at night? I scape the chair back and bound to the door, peeking out cautiously and then opening the door when I deem it safe.

My suburban style neighborhood glares back at me, and a beautiful vase of flowers sits at my feet.

Strange. I have no boyfriend. I don't even have any friends unless you count the people I work with. Picking up the vase I bring it inside, but not after taking one last glance around, only to find no trace of anyone.

If anything my brothers have taught me, it is to be vigilant and cautious. I carefully leaf through the flowers to check for cameras, recording devices and explosives. Nothing. And then I find the card.

The crisp edge tells me that the person is immaculately anal. They are a perfectionist and seek a standard of faultlessness that they wish to extrude. A egotistical self-image perhaps?

The card stock is thick. Expensive. Sourced from China would be my guess.

Opening the card finally the words are flicked in cursive with a heavy hand. Male. Right handed.

'They call me the Napoleon of Crime. But all leaders need a Queen. And darling, I can't wait to see you in a crown'

I sigh out loud into my empty house. Just when I thought I left this life of crime solving behind. Someone obviously wants to drag me out.

What's the motive? Do they want to get caught? One last game before it's over? Or is it more simple than that, maybe just a cry for attention. Or do they want money? The worst yet, do they just want to use me to get to Sherlock and Mycroft?

Not enough clues to rule out any of the possibilities yet.

As I sit down to finish my dinner, I look back at the flowers and realize something. I did a deduction. A full deduction without a second thought about what I was doing. It just came to me naturally, like old times.

Whoever this is, toying with me, has succeeded in dragging me back out of this dull world and into one of intellectual intelligence. Whether that was their intention or not, the trill of letting my mind run at full capacity has lifted a weight off my shoulders.

Just for a second I felt powerful again. Mind racing at sonic speed to deduce just a simple vase of flowers. But that's the secret of it all. The Holmes know that nothing is ever simple.

It will be a lot harder trying to control the urges now, after I have been awakened into my previous self.

•••

Seven in the morning and I'm already up for the day. I forgot how little I sleep when my mind likes to race. Oh the joys of oblivion and innocence.

Too late for that now, the excitement has just started.

Now, instead of imagining the lives of all the people that I see go by, I can actually clear my mind and deduce them. Before, I would create a life for them. It was a fun fictional idea to give them a life that I thought suited their appearance. The fun is still there; however, I can now allow myself to see the details.

I decided to walk to the store today. Stretch the brain and stretch the legs.

The lady walking her small fuzzy animal tried to keep up appearances to the rest, but her watch is old, polished to shine. Her clothes she picked up from a second hand store. She's also has an underlying heart condition.

A man I pass by is in a hurry. But not to get to work, but because he missed his taxi to get home. Lipstick smudge on the collar signifies that the mistress wouldn't let him leave in a timely manner. Scuff marks on his shoes tell me he was dancing with her in the early hours of the morning.

I still walk, but my mind runs with ecstasy. Information pouring in like they are telling me their life stories themselves. Though I still like the idea of giving them fake lives.

I don't know where the man with the mistress works but I can imagine him working at a cinema. An usher or a ticket man. A sucker for romance films.

The part that I don't always deduce myself is something that I like to fill in the blanks with my imagination. My storytelling was something my brothers never understood. They always wanted the facts and an explanation. I just wanted to have fun.

Gliding over to the produce section, I pause mid stride at the back of a man I have come to know as my fellow mint chocolate chip lover. Even without his standard Westwood suit, I know his height and build.

In jeans and a white t-shirt, earbuds fastened to his head with a lazy bop to the music, he turns around.

And the moment I have been waiting for, when I know I won't have to hold myself back anymore. I can deduce him all I want and know everything about the man I find so intriguing.

But he's blank.

I can't deduce him.

—-
Authors note:

I have decided to start posting chapters every
Friday like I did with 'Reid and the Awkward Girl.' It feels good to have a schedule going on this new story

Thank you to the people who have voted for the last chapters!