Beretta Holmes only wanted to live a life far away from the influence of her brothers. Holing herself up in a small town far away from Baker Street, she knows nothing of Sherlock's cases the past year and a half. And she knows nothing of his rival:...
It is interesting working at an ice cream shop with an overactive imagination.
In a way, you never know who you are serving to. It could be a relative of the queen of England, a detective of Scotland Yard, or a serial murderer.
I could be handing over a vanilla cone to a dominatrix or saying "Here's your super scoop" to a con artist who just escaped jail. Like I said, you never know.
You never know anybodies situation in life. I am just a lowly ice cream slinging servant of this society. It makes me wonder what types of people I have met that only briefly passed in a moment of costumer service ignorance.
Though, I suppose, it's a two way street. While I hide behind a uniform of blue and white, topped with a sailors hat, nobody knows the real me. I am utterly invisible.
Then, I ask myself, how did he see me?
I should have expected it, really. I mean the man came waltzing in a westward suit like the cat caught the canary. Yet, I still dismissed him as just a business man who hit a good deal.
That was my mistake.
I shouldn't have missed the things my brother would have picked up on in an instant. The calculating gaze, the psychotic twitch of his fingers like he was ready to snap. Honestly, my brother would have have been ashamed in me for dismissing such details.
I can imagine him now, cheek bones and all saying, "well, it was obvious."
Though, I have tried to suppress my familial urges for so long, it is no surprise that I ignored the genius in the room as he ordered a mint chocolate chip.
I had to appreciate the flavor, as it is also my favorite.
It was odd, when he took a languid lick while never looking away from me. His beady brown orbs lighting up in satisfaction.
And that was my second mistake: locking eyes with the taller man.
Because if I had only been in contact with my family in the past year, if I would only have talked to them, I would have known that it was my brothers archenemy. His intellectual match: James Moriarty.
And I never would have taken the hundred pound note he slipped my way when he said "keep the change" in a devilish Irish accent, and a wink.
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—- Authors note:
This story is going to deviate from Sherlock a bit just so it matches with my plot.
Also, I am not from England and I might get a few words wrong that they say.
