It is a really rainy afternoon, of course, a normal London rainy afternoon. Here I am, in my favorite Alexander McQueen outfit which by now is all soaked. I feel like soup. Here comes a car… ok now I am officially really a mess. Well, it seems like a normal day in Kurt Hummel’s life. I have a therapist, and she insists that writing everything that happens to me would help me cure my psychosomatic limp and OCD but, besides all the unfortunate things which I’m used to (small accidents, calls from uncomfortable relatives, money shortage and terrible nightmares), nothing ever happens to me.

Now I feel miserable. After some unsuccessful attempts to clean and dry my clothes I gave up. It would be nice to have some coffee at Starbucks, at least, something warm will do.

“Kurt? Kurt Hummel?” A voice behind me shyly asks. I turn around. It is a chubby semi-bald man. He wears a terrible combination of suit with a yellow retina-hurting tie. Yeah, I always have my fashion police radar activated.
“Umm, yes?”

“Oh, you might not recognize me, I´m Stamford, Mike Stamford; we went to high school together” He says smiling. High School? In America? Of course, he doesn’t have that British accent. His face is slightly familiar but not really, or perhaps? Ok I’ll try to pretend I remember.

“Umm I see…” He blushes a little.

“I’ve gained a little weight in the past few years” He admits. The he pays for my coffee and invites me a piece of cake. We sit down in a table far from the entrance. He keeps talking about high school (thankfully) and I slowly start to recognize him. I have two categories for my ex-high school buds: bully and not bully. He definitely was a no bully. I sigh and smile. Wait, he has stopped smiling.

“… and I´m sorry about Matt, I found out last week and I...” He says in a pity tone. I try to hold my memories so I take a sip of my coffee. Please don´t cry Kurt.

“Umm… thank you, I guess…” This is awkward Mike, why do you have to ask it?

“How have you been with that?” He asks obviously not realizing that I really want to cry right now. What kind of question is that? I have been feeling awful, of course, not to say devastated…

“Well, I´m in treatment now, but I´m running out of money, my aunt kicked me out from her house … I think I’ll have to leave London, you can´t afford a flat here with an army pension, and I don´t think someone would like to share a flat with someone who’s… well with someone like me.” I answer. Yeah, I´m poor and broken, hey, Stamford is smiling?

“Whoa, you know it´s curious; you’re the second person to say that to me again, lucky guy.” Stamford says eating the last piece of his cake. Ok, this is getting interesting.

“Yeah? Who was the first?” He sighs before sipping his coffee, looking a little uncomfortable.

“It’s a guy from the hospital, well the chiefs let him use the morgue and labs to make some… uh, let´s say experiments”. Stamford is hesitating, is it a good sign?

“Oh, it sounds great Mike, when can I talk to him?”

“Well, we can go right now if you want but, I wanna warn you about something…” Oh, it was too good to be true Kurt…

“…he´s kinda weird, even the guys at the hospital call him “freak”.”

“What? Is he an ex-convict? Is he living with hundreds of cats? Does he have a genetic disease like Kleinfelter’s Syndrome? Because that’s very racist of you , by the way, or is he a punk, nerd, travesty or something like that? ”Ok too many questions for now, Kurt. Stamford is laughing. My cake is gone. Sometimes I get amazed with the amount of words that I can spit in a minute.

“Ok WEIRD but not in that way… let´s go then, so you can find out by yourself”





I hate hospitals, why would someone like to spend a whole day in a lab next to the morgue? It smells terrible by the way. There’s a nurse staring. What are you looking at? Haven’t you seen a guy with a Marc Jacobs sweater before? Awful.

“…two of sugar and I’ll be upstairs” A gentle, but cold voice says. Stamford opens the door. The lab is enormous, all white with loads of chemical stuff, and 3 or more types of microscopes. There is a huge table at the center were a semi curly dark haired man is observing through one of the microscopes. His skin is a little tanned, is he British? He seems concentrated. He wears a navy blue long sleeved shirt (I can tell its Ralph Lauren) and black pants. My fashion radar detects an Armani overcoat nearby. At least he has good taste.

“Hey Sherlock! How are you doing? I want you to meet Doctor Kurt Hummel, an old friend of mine…” Stamford says pointing at me. The guy scarcely looks at him. This is a long awkward silence. I start thinking that I may not get along well with this guy.

“Stamford, may I borrow your phone? I need to text. Mine has no signal here.” Sherlock finally says. Mike nods.

“Yeah, sure…” he starts looking into his pockets “Umm, sorry, wrong coat”

Then, without really thinking, my hand has reached my phone and is now handing it to the stranger.

“Here, you can use mine” I say.
Everything is slow motioning. The guy is raising his head up and I can see his incredibly long eyelashes (Oh my Gaga, they’re natural), his almost triangular furry eyebrows, then, our eyes meet. He stares blankly. Gosh, he has hazel eyes, his eyes are like melting gold, spellbinding, amazing they have also sparks of green… my heart is beating a little faster. Mike coughs. Wait, Sherlock is pulling the phone, damn hand! Release it!

“Thanks” He says, clearing his throat, staring directly at the screen now. I can feel my face is burning. How long did we stared at each other? Did I gape?

I look at Stamford now. He and a small woman with an abnormally large nose and horrible fashion taste (yes honey, I can see it through your lab coat) are frowning, their mouths gapping. Oh Kurt, what have you done?

“Well, and Kurt this is Rachel Berry, the morgue attendant” Stamford says with a huge dumpy smile on his face. Rachel gives an annoying serial killer smile. “My pleasure” She greets shaking my hand tighter than someone would usually do. I reply with a nod. “Nice to meet you” It is a cold greeting, but it’ll work, I think so.

“Here, thank you” Sherlock says looking sideways. “Yeah, you’re welcome” I almost choked. I hear giggles again. Is Mike, but the hobbit girl remains squinting at me? Sherlock’s face remains blank. He grabs his coat and scarf.

“Would you like having a flatmate who likes to play the violin while he is thinking? And also who goes on not speaking for days… but it’s totally normal it’s not because I’m mad at you or depressed. “I look at him with amazement. “How…?” I babble. “Well Kurt, I’ve seen some nice place near central London, but I‘m afraid I have to leave now, but could we meet tomorrow at 3? So we can take a look at it” He says. I am shocked, how did he know? He’s leaving now.

“Hey wait! But we don’t know a thing about each other, how are we supposed to live together? ” He stops with half of his body out of the lab.

“I know you’re an American army doctor who has been either in Afghanistan or Iraq, you also have a brother of whom you disapprove perhaps of his drinking habits or because he walked out on his wife, but he slightly cares about you. Also you have an OCD and a limp which your therapist hasn’t found out that is merely psychosomatic. So, tomorrow at 3 the address is 221 B Baker Street and the name is Blaine Anderson” He winks and then dashes off.

I think my heart suddenly stopped. I can´t believe my eyes (or ears). He knows more than enough about me. How is that? I mean, wow. I feel two hands over my shoulders. Rachel and Stamford.

“Yeah, he’s always like that” They say.





“Cross my heart, Kurt” A smooth voice says. It’s a voice I know well. I feel something warm, I’d like to open my eyes but I can’t. They’re too heavy. I can feel his breath near me. “I know you will” I say. “Open your eyes” I try to obey. Slowly, as I open them I can see his bright smile. I raise a hand to touch his straight dark hair. His small green eyes are looking at me sadly. “It´s time to go now, Kurt”

I feel a chill right in my neck. The warmth is slowly going. I can hear screams everywhere, gunshots. Dust is flying all over the place. I wish I could stop hearing those pain screams.

“Run Kurt!! RUN!!” The same voice yells at me. I can´t stand up. I look around, but it seems like a blur. I feel a sharp knife near my face. A rough voice screams something in a language I don´t know.

“NO!! Kurt! Leave him alone!” Something cold is running through my neck. I´m bleeding. I know it’s not a deep cut.
“KURT!!” And then I hear a loud BOOM. Now I´m screaming. I´m crying again. I feel so lonely. I hear another two gunshots; one has got into my left elbow. Its pitch dark over here. I kneel, with blood still running through my neck and left arm. I fall down. I feel a stiff hand.

There´s a man dying next to me. I hold his hand. His green eyes are no longer shining. I burst into tears now. There’s fire around us now. I don´t want to let him go. I squeeze his hand tighter. Suddenly, his hand squeezes back. What? I’m too exhausted to even show surprise. I try to raise my head up. Slowly he’s glaring at me, with his bright hazel eyes… a second later, there’s an explosion. I wake up yelling a “NO”. I´m sweating. My alarm clock says 3:45 am. I try to catch my breath again. Something is stuck somewhere around my rib cage. Its 2 or 3 hard cover books.
I can´t sleep. I try to read something. I can´t concentrate. Then I start to remember the nightmare. The events in war, the moment in which he squeezed back my hand… wait, did I just saw glaring hazel eyes? Blaine Anderson’s hazel eyes. I shiver. This is getting creepy.

I turn on my computer, Google, Blaine Anderson. It has a few Facebook pages, none of them related to the Blaine I´m looking. There’s a link almost at the bottom of the page that says “The science of deduction” I read a random article. I don’t agree with everything it says, but it certainly makes sense. My head hurts. I feel a bit dizzy. I should probably go to sleep now.





So it’s 3 o’clock. I’m standing outside the 221 B Baker Street. I’m glad I’ve arrived a bit earlier. A cab arrives. Blaine gets out, wearing the same overcoat that he wore yesterday, but this time with a blue scarf. I can´t stop watching his eyes, even though they’re currently looking at the cab driver while he hands him the money. Then he looks right my way. He seems to give a quick smile. I feel the blood raising trough my cheeks, it feels so warm.

“Hey Kurt! Nice place isn’t it? The housekeeper is a friend of mine…she’s giving us a special deal because I ensured the conviction and execution of her husband in Florida…” He explains while he knocks the door. I wish I could see his smile a bit longer. I’m not hearing what he says. I just occasionally smile and glance at his mouth, waiting for the smile to come.

“… but it was her son, so I accepted and now Finn is free and works at Waterstones.” He keeps going. Now that we’re a bit closer I can see that he is slightly shorter than me. Also, he uses a lot of gel for repressing his curls; some of them are released around his ears. He has a nice nose, his eyebrows frown when he’s telling me something about Scotland Yard…

“… Don´t you think Kurt?” He asks raising his eyebrows a little. I realize my mouth is out of control, not responding to my orders. Error 404 not found.

“Umm sure” I babble. Luckily the door opens at the same time. There’s a middle aged woman probably in her 40s. She has a funny piggy nose, small eyes and a kind look on her rounded face. She seems very excited.

“Blaine sweetie! How’ve you been? Come in, come in”

“Fine Mrs. Hudson, thanks for asking. This is Doctor Kurt Hummel” he points at me.

“Oh, hi sweetie, looking good huh? Let’s go upstairs”





My hands are terribly shaking. My breathing is getting faster. I just need a minute. This is VERY untidy. My freaking OCD starts bothering me. I try not to look nervous, because the guy right in front of me might not like the way I would act if I released my illness’ madness. Mrs. Hudson has returned, with a couple of cups filled with green tea I guess.

“I see that you’ve already moved your things” I tell Blaine. He seems to wake up from his thought. “Oh, yeah that I hope you don´t mind, I was kicked off sooner than I expected, so I didn´t have a place for keeping all my materials. But first tell me, what do you think?”

“I like it, despite of the colour of the walls. It seems a bit depressing… and do we have a kitchen?”

I asked with interest. I love cooking. Blaine was about to say something when Mrs. Hudson talked.

“Oh and there’s a second bedroom upstairs… if you’ll need two bedrooms.” She said mischievously. I keep thinking about all the newspapers around the table and the messy desk facing it. Blaine looks at me. Mrs. Hudson waits for an answer. That’s when I realize the severity of the question.

“Yes! I mean, of course we’ll need two bedrooms!” I nearly shout. Blaine holds a laugh. Mrs. Hudson nods and closes her eyes. “Yes sweetie I was just saying. Mrs. Jenney, the neighbor has a married couple…” Did she think Blaine and me …? Aw Never mind. Focus Kurt, focus… but all this mess is obviously not helping. I suddenly start shaking a little.

“I know your OCD is mostly psychosomatic, but trust me, you’ll get over it” Blaine says breaking the uncomfortable moment. How could he know? “Please Kurt, have a sit” he points at an armchair near the chimney. “No, I want to know the kitchen” I say walking to the next room. Mrs. Hudson makes a strange sound, as if she was running out of air. Blaine runs near me. Too late. Kurt Hummel’s at the kitchen.

I nearly fainted. There is the same microscope (or his twin, I can’t really tell) I saw yesterday right at the center of the kitchen. It is surrounded by samples, some dead and some alive (I swear I can see them move). There’s also an open frog nearby, surrounded by petri dishes with different colour labels, a stethoscope, alcohol lamps, burnt objects, dissection things and a lot of little bottles with colour labels. Oh, and the never-ending piles of papers around.

“This is a crime… we’ll need to make a small space for cooking things “
Then, I decide to open the fridge. There’s a damn human head inside. “Oh my …” I close it instantly, I feel green. “And we’ll also need a spare fridge if you don’t mind…” Everything is moving. I try to step forward but the floor somehow moved. Blaine catches my arm. “Of course, but now let’s walk to the sofa, ok?” He says, putting my arm around his neck. I nod. Despite the nasty things I’m feeling inside, and the permanent thought that Blaine might be a serial killer, I can’t help but notice he smells like fresh oranges… I like it.

“Oh, I forgot the sugar… I’ll be back in just a minute” Mrs. Hudson said, with a huge smile on her face.

I’m in my five senses now. Blaine is staring at the window, with a hand in his pocket. I’m still a little concerned about him. “Ok, so I googled you yesterday” I spit. Blaine turns. “Yeah? Are you stalking me now? And what did you find?”

“You have a blog, “The Science of Deduction” ” He pulls a chair and sits facing me. “And what do you think about it?” I shake my head and try not to think in what I’ve just saw in the kitchen. “You say you can find a computer engineer by his tie and a fireman by his right hand, I don´t think that´s possible.” Blaine smirks.

“I could read by your face that you’re an American army doctor (was it Afghanistan or Iraq?) And your brother drinking habits from your mobile phone.” I raise my eyebrows. Chills are running down my back. “And how…?”I try to ask. No, I better change the question. “What do you do? Because you’ve got a job, haven’t you?” It’s a dangerous question (I keep thinking that what he does is a synonym for trouble) but I’ll take the risk. He stands up and stays by the window nearby. What’s so interesting outside there huh?

“What do you think I do?” He asks. I wasn’t expecting that kind of answer. I hear sirens and blue and red lights getting through the window. He is a serial killer; the police are now outside to get him. Oh my…

Mrs. Hudson is back, she forgot again the sugar but she is holding a newspaper.

“Blaine dear, have you seen the three serial suicides? I think is just the type of case that would suit you. ” She says leaving the newspaper in the table nearby. Blaine looks at the window. “Those weren´t suicides, we’ve got a serial killer on our hands. Love those, there's always something to look forward to. There has been a fourth “suicide”, but with something different this time.” Then he turns to the door. I can hear someone is running to our door. It is an Asian man, tall, with spiky hair, he really looks tired.

“Where was it?” Blaine asks

“A couple of blocks near here, Regent Street” Asian boy says, frowning.

“What’s different?” My flatmate asks apparently not caring.

“She left a note…” Blaine freezes for a moment. And then turns around.

“Who’s in charge of the forensics?”

“Evans” Asian guy replies with an expression that seems like he is waiting to get slapped.

“Oh God, no, Evans can´t work with me!!” Blaine complains raising his voice and rolling his eyes. That’s a Diva sign. Jackie Chan sighs.

“Look, Blaine, I know you two don´t get along well, but I really need you to be there. I can´t do anything for that you know… it’s not my division.”

“But I need an assistant!” The Asian man puts a begging expression. “Please Blaine; I really don’t know what to do” Blaine sighs. “Ok, I’ll be right behind you in a cab, you know I don’t like police cars” The policeman (I think) gives him a wide smile and runs out of the room. As soon as I hear the front door slam closed, Blaine hits the air triumphant. He seems on top of the world.

“Yes! And it was just a coincidence that a serial killer decided to act when there’s nothing interesting on TV or a new play at the theatre…” He jumps again and again and grabs his scarf.

“I’ll be late today so don’t wait for me! Oh, and Kurt make yourself comfortable. Mrs. Hudson I’ll need some food, when I return…”

“I’m your land lady sweetie, not your maid” She says kindly eventhough she’s frowning. Blaine is just too excited or concentrated to hear her.

“Ok, then something cold will do, don’t worry, see ya!!” And he gets out practically dancing.

Mrs. Hudson keeps looking with tenderness the door. “Look at him, he is so happy… he reminds me of my husband…” She sighs and leaves the room.

I stay thinking about what has just happened, this is definitely not a normal day in Kurt Hummel’s life. I grab a newspaper nearby, it has a picture of the Asian boy in the front page, I find out that his name is Michael Chang. That’s funny. I read the article. So Scotland Yard has been investigating the suicide’s cases in the past few weeks, but, what has...?

“You’re a doctor, in fact, you’re an army doctor” Blaine makes me jump with his sudden interruption. He is staring at me from the door’s frame. I stand up quickly and throw the newspaper away. “Are you good?” He asks scowling.

“I’m VERY good” I say with a slight pride, looking directly at his eyes. He steps forward. Now he’s right in front of me.

“And I can tell that you´ve seen a lot of serious injuries, violent deaths…” He says with pity eyes.

“Well, yes” I say. Damn memories don´t you dare to come back! I don’t wanna cry…

“And you’ve got into a lot of trouble too…” He adds, looking straight to my eyes.

“Of course, yes. Far too much for a lifetime I guess...” I answer almost whispering. Gosh, he’s so close. There’s an uncomfortable silence in the room.

“Do you want to see more?”

“Oh Gosh yes!!” I say immediately with a huge smile on my face. Blaine beams.

“Come on, I know a shortcut…” And he takes my hand. HE TAKES MY HAND!!


I used to say that reality showed that despite all the unfortunate events in my life, nothing really happened to me, and I expected nothing new. Luckily, I was wrong, now I know a few concepts which help me wash all the sadness, nightmares and unfortunate events: Serendipity and Blaine Anderson.