Jean has gone into Sherlock's room. It's clinically clean. This kind of depresses Jean, there's no sign of activity or life or anything homely. Jean knows she's only used this room for a night or so, but she's not put any posters or photos up. She walks over to the wardrobe openly it slowly. There's a full length mirror inside the door and some shoes lined up inside. Two black high heels, one stiletto, one more modest. One pair of black Converses. A more worn happy looking pair of vintage-ish black Victorian shoes, the look like they're probably for men. There's a forest of plain black trousers and a couple of (unworn) skirts.

Right at the back there was a couple of exquisite beautiful ball gowns. Jean thumbed the black silk on one between her fingers. Even though she was slightly tomboy-ish it was a dress she'd dream, and possibly, die to wear. It had a sweetheart neckline and ruffles of black scrunchy material formed the bodice. It flew out into a large skirt made of shiny black material that would swim around the wearer when they walked. It still had a price tag enclosed by Jean didn't want to look at that, might make her faint.

She was perplexed, this dress was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen in her life and, although it didn't look there was plentiful occasions to wear it, it seemed untouched. Jean played with the ribbon securing the bodice at the back in a corset. A card fell out

Sherlock,

Dress for these things correctly for once, you know it would upset Mummy. Please don't turn up like last year.

Myra

Jean was confused for a moment, who was Myra? A girlfriend? A best friend? Maybe a relative judging by the use of 'Mummy' instead of 'your mother'. Jean shook off the guessing and tucked the card back in place.

There was another dress, this time in purple. Jean didn't look at it, not wanting to cause any more envy than strictly necessary. She closed the wardrobe door sighing at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn't help comparing herself to Sherlock.

Sherlock.

She had beautiful eyes, they seemed to hesitate between green and grey but inevitably settle on blue. Many would describe them as piercing, but Jean would say they were more…searching. Looking for something, trying to find it hopelessly, as if they didn't even know themselves what they were looking for. She had lashes that models would kill for, but she acted like she didn't even know she had them. Oh these metre long lashes? I was born with them, not a big deal.

Her hair was tousled. Messy. It could've been tamed into a more tame shape but Sherlock didn't seem to care. It was deep brown, almost black and curly, but in a restrained way. Jean could imagine if she had it, she'd eternally twirl it round her finger. A nervous, bored habit.

Jean considered her flatmate more. She dressed herself well, sticking to a colour code of purple, black, white and the occasional blue. Again, as with every aspect of her look, there seemed room for improvement. If she dressed herself well it would've been by accident, not being someone into make-up or fashion. She seemed the kind of person that, if allowed, would just wander around in her duvet.

She wandered over to the bookshelves Advanced Chemistry Volume One, Advanced Chemistry Volume Two, Advanced Chemistry Volume Three, (and so on up to Volume Twenty) Jean read on Crime and Punishment, Soils Across Britain, A Study of Natural Human Body Language. That was just the first shelf. There was so many books on different topics. They seemed to comprise of violin music, studies on soils, chemistry, body language, psychology and crime, some literature, some notebooks (which Jean didn't dare touch) and a couple of (extremely worn) books on pirates including, to Jean's amusmant, Treasure Island.

There's also a dressing table facing the bed, but there's nothing in it and Jean doesn't want to raid the drawers.

She (forces) herself out the room, and back down through the corridor and into the living room. She's about to pick up her jacket and maybe leave a note to thank Sherlock when

"Did you like my room then?" Sherlock says, eyes still closed, same sleeping position.

"Like…your…" Oh God Jean thinks she knows!

"I noticed you took it upon yourself to look through my things." Sherlock opens one eye lazily, peering up at Jean.

"Look, Sherlock, I'm sorry but-"

"Are you… apologising?" Sherlock seems taken aback

"Well…yes…but-"

"Don't apologise." Sherlock rules "Apologising boring."

"But-"

"Look, I'm not angry. I'm interested. What did you manage to figure out?"

"Figure-"

"Yes, figure out. Work out. About me." Jean still looks puzzled and Sherlock rolls her eyes. "From looking through my (few) possessions what did you figure out about my personality. My character. My habits. My secrets. My joie de vivre." Sherlock gestures madly in the air with her hands.

"I must interject I don't normally go through people's things to find out their secrets."

"Don't you?" Sherlock asks, taking her turn as the puzzled one. "I do." Jean is about to say something about this when Sherlock speaks again. "So, make haste." Jean looks confused again. "Tell me what you figured out about me."

Jean coughs, then clears her face she laughs. Then she realises Sherlock is staring at her expectantly.

"Oh, you're…you're serious?"

"Yes. Why would I joke about something like that?" Jean opens her mouth. "Don't tell me, I don't really care. It was a hypothetical question. Now just hurry up and go."

"Right…well…you have make-up in the bathroom, but you haven't used it, so I'm guessing it was a gift."

"Good. Continue."

"In your wardrobe." Jean splutters "There's clothes."

"Really Jean? Well we better alert the police, someone's put clothes in my wardrobe."

"But," Jean interrupts "The skirts are hardly worn, you prefer trousers." she doesn't dare mention the possibly triple-zero price dresses.

"Interesting." Sherlock says getting up from the sofa. She turns around to see Jean pulling a I-did-good? face. He can't help but smirk at it.

"Sherlock there's someone here to see you." Mr Hudson comes in smiling at them. She opens the door further and in walks Detective Inspector Lestrade.

I wanted to thank everybody who read/subscribed/shared/reviewed this. I am eternally grateful.

I was reading it back and I noticed I mixed up pronouns pretty badly. I can't day sorry enough, I hope nobody got confused.

Sherlock Holmes = Sherlock Holmes

Jean Watson = John Watson

Michelle Stamford = Mike Stamford

Manny Hooper = Molly Hooper

Mr Hudson = Mrs Hudson

If you ever get confused, just remember every character should be the opposite sex of who they are in the TV show.