Where He Is Sherlock And I Am John

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
I couldn't sleep that night and so to induce myself to sleep; I created a story in my mind where I was John Watson and someone else was Sherlock Holmes.

I was a fan of puzzles and crimes even before I knew the legendary Sherlock Holmes, thus, I've always imagine myself as the main character itself but that night I chose to be the badass sidekick.

Few days after that, I wrote this story but this version is just the meeting of both of these characters. There's was no crime solving involved at all in this story. To put everything in words from my imagination is something I could never master due to my extreme laziness.

Yes, I am. That's is why I kept all my stories within me and by miracle sometimes I gather the courage to write. And is not even 1/4 of the stories I've imagined. I don't think I'm alone. Someone out there must have felt the same conflict as I do.

Bon chance à tout le monde =D

Sincerely,
Hanadelune.

Submitted: January 07, 2013

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Submitted: January 07, 2013

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“Cling-Cling-Cling.”

Was the sound of the entrance door bell to the infamous most underrated bookstore in Wuursberry.

“Hey, Alfred.”

“He—Oh, wow!”

I smiled, showing off my pearly whites (almost yellowish due to extreme sloth-iness).

“You look as extravagant as ever, Scarlett.”

Me in my sleeveless black (very thin) crop top that I covered up with what used to be my mom’s maroon lace ¾ cardigan, velvet skirt with a zebra-like pattern and underneath a polka dots black leggings that matches well with the messily laced up black combat boots. A style that manages to show much skin but at the same time not to. Well played, me!

“Thank you. So... Is the book here?”

“Yeah. It arrived yesterday evening.”

Alfred took a book from a cupboard behind him and gave it to me. It was the first edition of Marrionet’s Eat You Up.

Classic vintage.

“Thanks again.”

“Well, anything for the former staff of this dusty and lonely store.”

We smiled and I took a last look at the library. Then, I left.

Alfred had always a soft spot for me but those times were in the past now. We’re never been closer than friends but we had a bond. An unexplainable one.

I sighed at that thought.

..........................................................................

One thing about this particular bookstore that I like is... its quietness. People rarely visit this bookstore nowadays. Now, that they could just download books online. I pity them. They’ve missed the raw smell of books when you open it for the first time. The way it sounds when the binding cracks little by little. How the ink might dirty their fingers and they didn’t even realise it until they finished the whole book...

I was lounging around at the top floor reading Weadstely’s Fear of the Dark when I heard a very melodious sound. A voice, actually. It was as if she was singing the words she spoke when she speaks. I couldn’t see her face though. It was hidden underneath a vintage black wide (very,very wide brim it had) hat. And, as fast as she arrived here... she left. Disappearing in the snow outside.

..................................................

The black hat I wore was now white. Covered with snow. I shook it a bit before entering my workplace. Freedo’s Cafe. It really rhymes with Speedo(s) and we rarely make fun of it. Boss has severe high blood pressure. And we do our best to prevent him from dying.

As the best barista in town, I shall tell you the secret to my very own success.

I serve what the customers need not what they want.

As soon as I tied my lucky apron...

A fancy lady approached me.

“One soy latte, please. Extra hot. The weather’s extremely cold outside.”

“Soy latte? Hmmm...”

“Is there a problem?”

She sounded offended, somehow.

“She must be new here.” I thought.

I’ve got quite a reputation (I’m not bragging. I’m not bragging) so the people in this area have all heard about me. They wouldn’t be offended by me in fact; they would gladly let me recommend their drinks.

Well, I can handle this. Yeah, I can.

Watch me.

“No. Not really. It’s just that you don’t strike me as the soy latte type. If you don’t mind, would you like me to recommend you a drink? I assure you, you would most likely to love it.”

Unsure. She said, “On what basis do you judge me and the drink I chose?”

“My intuition. And all of the drinks I recommended, none of the customers seemed to have any problems. And if you let me, I promise, you won’t be let down.”

I smiled. I’m so used to this.

“Alright. If you’re wrong, I shall tell your boss to fire you.”

“With pleasure. Now, one Egyptian Storm for you. Extra hot.”

While I worked my magic, I’ve noticed the line was long. So, I hurried up.

“Here you go. Try it, please.”

Mrs. Fancy tried it and... Voila!

“This is very delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

And... The same thing goes to every people. (Is it tourist day? Why there are many new faces? What happened to the locals?)

They ordered their drinks. I said no. They asked me why. I sighed. I explained. I recommended. They gave in out of curiosity. I worked my magic. They tasted. Voila! Happy ending.

...................................................

I left the book store. My throat was aching for a shot of caffeine. Upon reaching the nearest cafe, I entered and I saw her.

Well, I think that’s her.

Now, I’ve gotten the full view of her visage and... she has the same singing voice I’ve heard before at the book store!

Yeah, it’s her.

And so... I started queuing.

.....................................................

Ah! Finally a local.

“Mrs. Rubert. How do you do?”

“Oh hello Scarlett. I’m fine. Old and wrinkly...but fine.”

I smiled.

“Well, how about a cup of Wuursberry Classic, eh?

“I’ve never heard of it but oh well. Sure, why not?” She chuckled.

I on the other hand knew she wouldn’t refuse me, so I’ve already started making the drink that I created last two nights.

“Mmmm... This taste great. Very refreshing.”

“Does it make you feel years younger?” I teased.

She laughed. “Yes. It really did. Thank you, Scarlett. As always, you knew what I needed.”

And with that, she left to pay for the drink.

“What would you like to order, sir?”

I asked a man, my age-looking. (And yes, I had to call him “sir”. It’s a common courtesy and I didn’t want to get fired.)

“What would you like to recommend to me...”

He paused, searching for my badge (but there was none) and said, “...Ms. Scarlett?”

This guy is imitating me. Common courtesy, my bottom. He’s mocking me? Is he?

He must have heard Mrs. Rubert saying my name. He’s not local. Not another tourist. I *sighed again.

*I sigh a lot despite what I heard about sighing could lose your happiness. (1 sigh = Lose 1 happiness) You get it?

“Hmmm...”

I stared at him for a moment. My brain was calculating at thunder (not lightning) speed.

“It would seem that Jericho might suit you.”

“Jericho?”

“Haha, yeah. I just made that up. There wasn’t any drink in the menu that suited you so I created a new recipe, inspired by......you.”

While I mixed the ingredients here and there...

“Why Jericho?”

Straight forward. Not smooth talking like a gentleman. I chuckled. This is the real you, I see.

I must change the recipe. He’s not Jericho type.

“Jericho gives of the feeling of sandy beaches in one of the glorious island of Philippines... All happy-go-lucky. But underneath it all... lies another personality, silky smooth slightly oily-looking raven black hair which compliments his mud-pooled-coloured eyes that reflected the gray full moon and the dark midnight sky. All mysterious.”

He was silent. I couldn’t see his facial expression since I was too busy making “**Doctor Bell”.

**Dr. Joseph Bell. The real life Sherlock Holmes.

“Did you get what I meant?”

“Yeah. I do. Now, that I think of it... It actually made sense.”

“It does?!”

“Yeah. With those ingredients I see you’re using, it matches the description of Jericho.”

“Oh.”

Sooo not. I laughed (a lot) inside.

I’m not making Jericho anymore, I’ve improvise.

But to think he actually gets it. I chuckled. Oookaaay...

“Milk or soy?”

“Milk.”

“Soy it is.” He made a face but kept silent.

“But I don’t see how Jericho suits me.”

Pergh... He’s sharp. This is the right drink for him.

“My intuition. Here you go. A Doctor Bell for you. Dark, black and hot but slightly cooled.”

“Doctor Bell?”

“Yeah.”

He stood there waiting for me to elaborate.

I didn’t.

“Look Mister, there’s a long queue behind you. The people are losing their patience. So to fill your curiosity, in another three hours I’ll finish my shift. Alright?”

“Slightly cooled?”

I sighed. Again.

He completely ignored me.

“It matches your icy poker face expression and the way you ignored those angry people behind you... and my question.”

He laughs and walked away to pay the bills.

The people deadly stared at him as if sending million of invisible ninja shuriken to his heart as he got out of the shop.

He ignored that too.

Sighing, I called out for the next customer.


© Copyright 2019 Hanadelune. All rights reserved.

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