[COMPLETE] ??? ???? ?? ??? ??????「Sherlock」

001; Mr. Holmes is a Noisy Neighbour

"I hope you'll excuse him," John disclosed, shaking his head. He made for the kettle and Julia had just happened to notice, immediately breaking her eyes away from the detective who was now settled within his armchair a few paces out of view. Although she was a guest within their home, she was also Mrs. Hudson's niece, and seeing as she did a lot of cleaning up around there, it was only natural that she took her place for the time being. Placing a hand on his own, she carefully guided him away. John was about the same height as herself, perhaps an inch taller, and so when he looked at her their eyes immediately met. Julia offered a smile to the older man, who mirrored the action. "You really don't have to do that."

"But I will anyway," she shrugged, laughing softly and moving to fill the kettle herself. In the meantime, John crossed his arms and rested up against the island. Not much light filtered in, aside from where it bled through the curtains. "So this is what my aunt meant by experiments. I sort of expected chemicals and tweezers and scalpels to be involved."

John snorted and shook his head, giving a dry perk of his flaxen brows. "Oh, believe me, these little activities of his are completely normal for him," he replied. "It often does involve those things. He'll set up his test tubes and vials in here sometimes, right on the kitchen table!"

"A bit of an oddball, isn't he?" she murmured.

Her companion chuckled and nodded, matching her volume. "You get used to it."

"I can hear you two!" Sherlock called from the next room. He was not impressed by their gossiping. Then, "Julia, I take milk in my tea, thank you!"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes." Perhaps tea would be the only thing that she would be drinking from now on. She had always been the sort to drink coffee, although she would never admit it within a tea-drinking household. That meant war. "What about his peculiar tendencies, such as the materials in the fridge? Auntie never mentioned what they were specifically and I've always been curious." Julia set the kettle on the stove-top and turned on the burner. "Drugs?"

"Oh Christ, no! Although, I do suggest you don't look too far inside the refrigerator while searching. You may find a few jars of ... well.."

The rosette narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly and pressing her hip up against the kitchenette counter. "Well?" she encouraged. "Come on, John. What could be worse?"

"Fingers," John managed finally, avoiding her eyes.

Her belly turned and she swallowed within her dry mouth. Fingers? She thought. What could he possibly want with fingers?

"Or ligaments or entrails of other sorts. He likes to see how long they can be preserved, or how they react with... certain chemicals." He offered her a grave look as soon as he was finished his quick spiel. Julia simply stared at him, then toward their white little fridge, her lashes stagnant for a moment. How on earth was John still around? Surely he would have moved out long ago, seeing as how insane this man appeared to be? What kept him around? The cheap rent?

Julia's head bobbed softly. "I... see," she articulated, trying to ignore how her face blanched at the thought of possibly running across body parts. So, this was what the norm was for this man. The young woman had once thought Sherlock Holmes to be an interesting man, but with this new bit of information... the whole topic of 'interesting' now had a different definition in her books.

Peculiar. That's what he was. Peculiar.

The kettle began to sing and John was the first to it, the entire conversation having fallen into a silence. The tea was made and, because of her own newfound wariness, Julia did not touch the handle of the fridge, instead simply preparing her own tea. From there, she made Watson and Mr. Holmes' drink before stirring the three and helping him place them upon the tray. John lead her out into the living room, the young woman balancing the tray upon one hand like a waitress, her own cup in her other hand. From there, she set her cup on the side-table, bringing the older man his own, earning her a gentle 'thank-you'. He was such a polite gentleman, so much so that he reminded her of her own father. Well, when he wasn't tearing into her to find herself a husband or a job.