This is just a one shot based off some idea I thought up one day that sort of amused me. I hope that you all enjoy it! For now I have no plans of continuing it, but you never know.

I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the affiliated characters.

Thanks for reading, reviews/Comments welcome!

Evenings for Sherlock are complicated and often lead to questionable decisions. When there is a case, things are very simple and straightforward. He works on the case. It's on the nights that there is no case, no experiment to keep his mind sharp and focused that things happen. On the one hand, evenings provide a great opportunity for him since more people are out on the streets at night and he might be able to test his deduction skills. But on the other, at 221B Baker Street, evenings are quiet times, which make Sherlock restless if there is nothing to occupy him, and no John either since the man insists on getting a solid 8 hours of sleep when there is no case.

Still, there are things Sherlock does which he doesn't advertise or even tell John about. Places he disappears to at night which the doctor might not approve of. For the last month, if there have been no cases on, he has been arranging to test his deduction skills on the fairer sex and test out their reactions. The only place he seems to be able to do this in any sort of contained environment has been a speed dating event at a club across town.

Even the thought of such an event makes Sherlock scoff. Afterall how well could a normal person evaluate a potential partner based off of five minutes of interaction? It was also something he could never tell John because his friend would take it the completely wrong way. He was not there to 'hook up' with any of them, he merely attended as a student of human behavior. He rarely saw the same woman twice and almost never acted like himself.

This night has him walking through the London streets to the club, hands in the pockets of his jacket and the collar of his jacket turned up against the chill in the air. Inside the building it was almost stiflingly hot in comparison, and he quickly shed his coat and scarf, leaving them at a coat check, twiddling with his phone before sliding it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

For his observations tonight he has dressed a little nicer, or at least a little more professionally than the last few times he had been to this event, where he alternately wore clothes to make him seem younger, or more of a college slob. Tonight he chose to go the other way, wearing black slacks and jacket with his snug purple shirt which seems to attract positive female attention when he wears it.

Being a little early, Sherlock stayed out of the way of the others, seeing the way the men and women segregated themselves before the event started, as if not wanting to taint their opinions before the actual interview process – for lack of a better term – began. Five minutes talking to someone about inane things, trying to sum yourself up briefly. Silently, the detective starts to form a strategy to keep the attention off of himself or deflect it as best he can. Afterall, he isn't really here looking for a date.

From his vantage point he can see most if not all of the women who are gathered loosely together, chatting and sizing up their competition for the evening. Most of them are dressed to the nine's with drinks in hand, sending coy little glances toward the group of men. All but one. When Sherlock sees the young woman standing apart from the others, dressed in modestly dressy flats, dark wash jeans, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail with a t-shirt with letter he can't read from this distance, he is intrigued. She must be a friend of one of the others, or forced to come to this event.

Suddenly, he was interested in seeing what he could deduce about this girl once he got a look at her up close. Unfortunately he was distracted from his perusal by the organizer getting onto his microphone and handing out the stick-on numbers for the men and women, before telling them which table to go to in order to start the 'speed dating'.

Being himself perhaps was not the best choice for this evening, as by the time he gets around to the casually dressed girl, he has been slapped once and narrowly avoided a drink tossed his way by a particularly drunk woman whose makeup was caked on to make her appear younger but only made herself appear that much older.

The women in this little dance stay in their own seats the entire night while the men move around, and as Sherlock slides into the seat across from Bachelorette number 9 – according to the card on the table – he notices right away how different she is from the others.

Wide, stormy gray eyes meet his for the briefest of moments almost in surprise before looking down and off to the side a little. A slight pink tinging her cheeks as she fidgets with the card in front of her, having seen Sherlock when he got slapped and had rudely stared until her current man brought attention back to himself. A place where he had kept it for the entire 5 minute conversation. Taking a deep breath, she decides to start since it doesn't seem that the man sitting across from her wants to.

"Hi. My name is Harper. I'm, uh, 23, and a freelance writer, editor and transcriptionist. I don't have the client base enough to focus on just one of them so I guess you could say I have to have a few jobs. But, I get to do all of them from home, or really anywhere I can bring my laptop, so I can travel if I want. Also gives me really flexible hours." Clearing her throat a little, Harper lifts the glass of water to her lips, having been afraid to drink any alcohol. She wasn't sure what to expect and didn't want her judgment impaired. Now she was grateful for that decision. The man across from her was making her a little nervous, despite his intense, beautiful eyes, and his striking and sexy appearance.

"Sherlock, age irrelevant, consulting detective." Sherlock kept his answers short and sweet as was expected of him. Pressing his hands together in front of his face with his elbows on the table, he brushed his lips over his index fingers as he moved his head up and down a little thoughtfully, not thinking about how the motion might draw attention to his mouth. "Interesting." He says after a mere moments' pause, then continues. "Harper. Your parents were probably trying to be unique or different with your name, or they had artistic aspirations for you. You're modest about your work, but you live alone so you either have a small flat or you are doing exceptionally well with your three jobs. You don't come from money, but make wise decisions with it and know how to invest. Your shoes are inexpensive, but your clothes are good quality, functional and easily match with other pieces of your wardrobe, no doubt." He had to smirk now that he saw her up close, since he could see her t-shirt read 'Nerd? I prefer intellectual badass.'

"You haven't put on any extra makeup or dressed up for this occasion so I'm guessing that you were dragged in here at the last minute. Probably by the girlfriend of the organizer, Thomas, who you have an unlikely friendship with. Probably she was friends with you at University in order to get your help since you're probably intellectually superior to your peers. Hasn't broken off the friendship because she doesn't know how, and you barely spend any time together anyway. Except when she needs something from you. You really ought to end that." Sherlock says in his rapidfire manner, looking her over for a few moments. "You are single, but not interested in being here, which means you probably just came off a bad relationship, or you're a lesbian." Word by word, he can see the woman's eyes widen a little, and her perfectly pink lips fall open slightly. For a moment he catches himself almost finding that look endearing on her small, almost delicate features.

"You're a romantic, but your independence is very important to you, which is why you work freelance and made the point of telling me you can work from anywhere. I've seen you looking at those couples here that seem to be getting on rather well, the wistful looks you send them. You want that but you don't think you can find it here." A small frown crosses his face as he considers that deduction, tilting his head to the side as he watches her. "Sorry, I thought I should save us some time, how am I doing?" he asks as he watches her.

Taking a slow, deep breath to gather her thoughts, Harper stares at the man before her for a few moments. "Wow." Is the only thing she can think to say. Which is so intelligent and makes her wince slightly before closing her eyes and dropping her head to stare at the tablecloth in front of her. "That was.. mostly spot on.. You're amazing." Even she can hear the breathless tone to her voice. "You know me better in two minutes than my ex did in a year. I did just come off a relationship, but I dressed like this because this is how I dress. I don't like dressing up to give a guy false expectations about me, which will only hurt us both after he dumps me when he finds out what I'm really like." She says in a quiet tone, her voice catching as she thinks about a few specific incidents. "You're right about Chastity, Thomas' girlfriend. At least, now I think you are. I never thought of it that way before. Maybe I just didn't want to."

Slowly looking up at Sherlock for a moment from beneath her lashes, she quickly looks back down at the table. "Thank you for being honest, and not hiding yourself. A guy who looks like you, you could have tried charming me. It would have been easy, and you probably would have succeeded. But it seems like you're not looking for a relationship here, either." Harper finds she can't help the sad tone of her voice, clearing her throat and sipping her water again for a moment. "So thanks, for the honesty. At least you only have to talk to one more girl before you can leave."

Just one more girl and he can leave. That should have made Sherlock feel better, but for some reason knowing that his time with Harper is coming to an end makes him reluctant to leave things the way he did. This girl was different, and besides John, the only one to think his deductions anything more than annoying. "You're wrong." Leaning forward on the small table a little, the detective ducks his head in an attempt to catch her eye. "You think you're not worth the attention of the men here, that they are so far above you, when the reverse is true. Of all the women here, you are the most interesting, the most unique, and the only one who is real. You would not want a relationship with those men. That is not what they want, they want to shag you." He says bluntly. "And once they have gotten laid, you will never hear from them again. You are worth more time and attention than that." He says sincerely, before the little buzzer goes off and he rises gracefully. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Harper. Truly." He says in a quiet tone before he goes to move off to the last table, not able to help brushing the fingertips of his index and middle finger along the soft skin of her arm as he passes, watching the way the goosebumps rise on her arm and all the way up the back of her neck. He just barely hears the little gasp she lets off, and as he settles down with mask in place, ready to judge this next girl, he wonders if he might have imagined it.

Somewhat irritated through the last interview, Sherlock very narrowly escapes getting slapped again. Probably a good thing, from the look of the woman's acrylic nails. That would be rather hard to explain to John. Swiftly standing when the buzzer goes, he turns to look for Harper only to find her already handing in her card indicating what men she would like to hear from. If they also wanted to her from her, then they would receive eachother's contact information. Looking down at his own blank card, Sherlock marks off Bachelorette #9's name – Harper's spot – before he brings it to Thomas, the owner. It was the first time Sherlock ever handed in his card and had to double check it to make sure he had written down the correct contact information.

Now it was all up to the interesting woman who would either contact him or not. It wasn't a sure thing, but he sincerely hoped he would hear from her, something about her intriguing him, in a similar but distinctly different way than John had first intrigued him when they first met. Not liking being out of control, Sherlock pushes the matter to the back of his mind as he returns to Baker Street. Filed away but not forgotten completely, his mind instead turns back to his experiments.

After two days of nothing, Sherlock's phone chimes with a text and without putting much thought to it, he finally picks it up, frowning at the unfamiliar number until he reads the message which freezes him in the middle of the sitting room.

It's Harper. Do you want to meet up for coffee?