I was intrigued by Penelope Swan. Intrigued by the person claiming to have as extensive knowledge as myself, who told me more than possible knowing through deducing. I mean, I've been sending my memories of Virginia Crowe to the back of my mind palace, ever since she left me for Matty. Last time I checked, they'd just got married and were about to leave to America. If this had not been the outcome, I would not have cast away those dear to me and would probably not become a Consulting Detective. I know how simple it is to learn someone's life story, through just glancing for a second, but the details are impossible to place. Obviously, she does have deduction skills, as shown when she studied the picture, but not that much. The main problem is that when I try to tell John, he casts it away, saying that I just don't like the fact she's more intelligent than me.
We've began using the tenement in Baker Street as the storage area for anything we've picked up and are trying to get closer to resolving this problem. Mrs Hudson has offered Penelope a room next to hers, while we are analysing the clues, so we've got more of a chance of getting a lead. However, at the moment, it's ten o'clock at night, I'm lying on the sofa trying to search my mind palace, while Penelope and John are watching a DVD of this show Penelope's obsessed with. Something called... Doctor Who? I've never heard of it, but the show's writer, Steven Moffat sounds very familiar. I wonder where...? Oh well, there's time to research into it after the case is solved.
Clara (Penelope)'s POV
Sherlock has not yet figured out anything about me, but there's time. I think he might have been interested in Moffat, but I was expecting him to. I turn to face him, "You could come and join us, you know?" He opens one eye, before scoffing. I'm already doing most of the commentating over the show, so it's not like him correcting the telly will make a difference. "Join you? I know what would happen - I'd start correcting the telly, you'd get very annoyed and defensive about the 'best sci-fi show ever' and judging by your stature, you've been doing some form of martial art for at least five years, which would mean I would have obtained an injury by midnight."
There isn't much you can say to that, so I just say, "You underestimate me Mr Holmes. It's seven years and at the most you would be paralysed, depending on the quality and quantity of insults you throw." With that, I relax a bit and pause the telly, to point out all the companions huddled around the tardis to a slightly shocked John Watson.