I've just recently submitted my other Sherlock story The Art of Silence which I was originally going to make into a Sherlock/OC story but I wanted to create a character that that could match and almost counteract his pompousness etc.

So I have decided to make this story a Sherlock/OC story.

Please let me know what you think on it and whether I should continue.


John Watson slowly climbed the stairs towards his flat.

It was cold day and a chill had crept into his leg, causing his limp to return.

He didn't care what Sherlock had said, today the pain was definitely not psychosomatic.

Grasping onto the banister, he inwardly groaned as she heard Mrs Hudson's footsteps behind him.

"Oh John, there you are," said the old woman, appearing at the foot of the stairs holding a tray laden with cups and saucers. "I was just bringing up some tea for Sherlock and his guest."

"Guest?" said John with a frown. Sherlock never had guests.

Mrs Hudson nodded and ushered him further up the staircase.

Reaching the top, John found the door wide open and Sherlock sitting at the table, his laptop open in front of him.

He didn't look up as John walked in.

"Tea, my dears," said Mrs Hudson entering the room after John and placing the tray down onto the coffee table with a flourish.

It wasn't until John glanced over to the armchair did he notice an extra figure in the room.

"John this is Rebecca Francis," said Sherlock loudly, causing John to jump. "My lawyer."

The figure looked up from a stack of papers that were perched precariously on their lap and gave John a swift smile.

Rebecca, the lawyer, was in what looked like her late twenties. She had a long twist of caramel blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and was wearing a smart blouse and pencil skirt that showed off her slender legs.

"Ah and there's me thinking this friend of yours was imaginary, Sherlock," she said, flashing a mocking smile in the dark-haired man's direction.

Sherlock scowled but said nothing, redirecting his glare towards the laptop screen.

"So you're the solider then?" said Rebecca, shifting some files off the chair opposite so that John could sit down, as Mrs Hudson busied herself with pouring the tea.

"Yes," he muttered, taking a seat. "Not long got back actually."

Rebecca nodded her head, though John wasn't sure if she was actually even still listening, her eyes scrolling down the page before her.

"So how long have you worked for Sherlock?" he asked, trying to reignite the conversation.

Rebecca glanced up from her work. "Oh a few years," she muttered, crossing out something in bright red pen. "But he only comes to me when he's desperate."

She leaned in close to John. "Likes to think that he knows best when it comes to legal matters," she said in a loud, carrying whisper, causing Sherlock scoff from across the room.

"I do know best as it happens," he said in a dark voice.

Rebecca rolled her eyes before crossing out another huge paragraph. "Yeah you keep telling yourself that Sherlock and it'll be me trying to get you off when you end up in court. Again!"

John saw her cock an eyebrow at Sherlock, a cheeky grin lingering on her face.

But the Detective's face was unreadable as his eyes met with hers.

"Now it was one sugar wasn't it dear?" asked Mrs Hudson pressing a steaming mug of tea into Rebecca's hands, as she nodded her thanks to the old woman.

"And a coffee for you wasn't it Sherlock?" asked Mrs Hudson, placing his mug down onto the table beside him.

"Oh yes, I forgot. Sherlock needs his caffeine rush now that he's given up smoking. How's that going for you anyway?" asked Rebecca in a mocking tone, scrawling a note at the bottom of a page of text.

"It's fine," said Sherlock coldly, gesturing to his arm. "I have patches."

But Rebecca did not look up, not even giving him the satisfaction of a response. The smirk upon her face said it all.

John was sure he heard Sherlock let out a low growl.

The Detective obviously did not like being mocked or outwitted.

"Do I pay you to make fun of me?" Sherlock snapped, flexing the arm on which his nicotine patches lay.

John glanced up, feeling a bit defensive of Rebecca and the way in which his flatmate was treating her.

He was about to protest to the dark-haired man, when Rebecca placed a hand suddenly upon his arm, pre-empting his reaction.

"Don't worry about it, we're always like this. I find it best just to ignore him," she said with a smile, heaving up the piles of papers from her lap and stuffing them into her briefcase.

She quickly gulped down her steaming hot tea before turning to John and shaking his hand.

"It's been nice to meet you at last," she said cheerily. "The elusive flatmate."

"Likewise," said John, with a grin, stepping aside so Rebecca could pass.

"Mrs Hudson, it's been a pleasure as always," she said pecking the old woman on the cheek, before moving across the room to where Sherlock sat, staring at his screen, though his eyes were still and unmoving.

"These are for you to sign," she said placing several documents in front of him. "I'll be back tomorrow morning to check they're all in order."

The detective nodded but didn't say a word, his eyes running across the text before him.

Rebecca turned and made to leave.

"I can't sign this," said Sherlock suddenly, causing Rebecca to halt in her track and let out a long sigh.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" she said tiredly, turning back around.

Sherlock raised one of the papers and shoved it under Rebecca's nose.

"He's spelt arrogant wrong, it should have two R's," he said carefully, eyeing Rebecca as if waiting for a reaction.

She gave another lengthy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Does it matter?" she asked.

"Of course it matters," said the detective, a slight grin appearing at the corners of his lips, "this is a binding legal document. If I'm to sign it I want it to be meticulously spell-checked."

Rebecca scowled, before snatching the paper from his grasp. "Fine," she snapped, storming towards the door. "I'll get him to email another one through, this time correctly spelt, detailing exactly how much of an arrogant idiot you really are. Two R's of course!"

"Shall we make it 10.30 then?" called Sherlock with a mischievous smile as exited the room, slamming the door behind her.


Please review.

Should I continue?