The Vacancy: Sherlock x Fem!reader

Chapter 1 - Not a client

You crumple up the paper in hand, toeing your shoe into the water lingering, concrete step. Twirling thumbs over one another, you finally hear the door open, the brass handle pushed down and pulled.

After such a long time in a dingy flat south of London, you were able to spot an opening for a better one. 221B Baker Street. The rent was better than what you expected and the distance from here to work was more preferable. Why not give it a shot?

"Oh, hello, dear, are you a client?" A lovely old woman had greeted you, apron dusted with flour, eyes like twinkling stars. The smell of cookies drifted to your senses while the heated interior welcomed you away from the gloomy outdoors.

"Client...? No, uhm, I'm here about the vacancy?" You held up a small Newspaper advertisement.

"Thank heavens! I've been meaning to fill that spot," she gestures you in. "What's your name, deary?"

"Y/n L/n," you follow her to the door of a basement flat, but stop upon hearing rapid descent.

"Mrs Hudson, John and I won't be back for a while don't-" a tall man, slim built with dark curls, turns to you while fitting on his scarf. "Tate or Whitechapel?"

It took you a moment to process the question. "Excuse me?" You stammer, looking at him.

"Tate or Whitechapel, you obviously sell your art somewhere," his coat hung fittingly against him, reaching just mid-calf, ruffling in slight as he popped the collar.

"Uhm, Whitechapel, recently... how did you-?"

"The base of your left palm is covered in a little yellow paint, a specific oil used mostly for archival art works. You can really smell it if you're looking for it," he sniffs the air lightly. "Art galleries tend to home certain archival inks and pigments, and with this, it narrows it to Tate or Whitechapel,"

"Wow... is he always-?"

"Yes, he's always like this," a shorter man, short blonde hair and stance to rival any military trainee, holds his hand out to you after walking over. "John Watson, this is Sherlock,"

"Y/n L/n, I'm just here to look at the flat,"

"I recommend you do allow Y/n to rent out the flat, Mrs Hudson, with your current luck it would be another 4 months before another decent tenant,"

"Off you two go, I don't want you scaring Y/n away, shoo," Mrs Hudson pushes them to the door. "Very sorry, they're just the two from upstairs,"

You give a small nod, walking with her down the stairs. "Are they the ones who often expect clients?"

"Oh, more often than none, though I will warn you that if Sherlock gets bored, he gets... well, it gets noisy," she switches on the lights. "I recently only got the mould sorted, good as new,"

"It is very nice," you note, looking around. "The only problem is that I paint quite a bit and this flat doesn't exactly have the best ventilation,"

"Oh, bugger," she clicks her tongue. "I'm sure the boys won't mind you taking the top flat,"

"Top flat?"

"Very top, dear, it was more for Sherlock's storage but I can let him bring it down here instead,"

Didn't seem like that bad of deal, with a high view and possibly much more open space, how could you decline?

~~~

"Right... ideas," you mutter softly to yourself only to hear a gunshot. "Fuck!" Ducking behind the canvas, you hear a few more ring out which causes your curious self a need to investigate.