I tossed my duffel bag in the corner of my flat and collapsed on the bed. I always hated jet lag. I was always so tired. I guess that is why it's called jet lag. I glanced at the time on my phone, which I had reset on the plane. 2PM. It felt much, much later. I decided that I was going to sleep through the next week.
I woke up to my doorbell ringing. I almost decided to ignore it, but then my curiosity took the best of me. I grumbled and got up. I opened the door to see a short, blonde man standing at my doorstep. He was holding a plate of brownies.
“Um . . . Hello.” I said, a bit confused about why he was there.
“Hello.” he said, a huge smile on his face, “I'm John Watson, I live in the flat next door, and I heard that you recently moved in. I thought I'd bring you something.” he held out the plate of brownies to me. I took them, and sat them on a table near the door. The flat had come with a bed, a table, a fridge, and a couple of chairs, along with the regular stuff like a toilet and a stove. Otherwise, my flat was completely empty.
“Thank you.” I said, “That will probably be my supper. I was planning on going to that sandwich shop, but this will probably fill me up. Thanks.” I saw the confused look on John's face, “I just got here today, and haven't gone shopping yet. I haven't got any food here yet.”
“Oh, you just moved in?”
“Yeah. That's why I haven't invited you in. I haven't got any furniture.”
“Do you want to come over to my flat for supper?” John asked, “I'm just 'round the corner, and you can meet my flat mate.” the smile disappeared from his face for a quick moment, “But don't be surprised if he's a bit rude. He tends to do that.”
I laughed, “That's fine. I've been around a few rude people.”
“Not as rude as Sherlock.” John mumbled. “I'm afraid I didn't catch your name.” he said a bit louder, “Could you repeat it?”
“Sorry.” I said, and gave myself a face-palm, “I'm Bridget Princeton.”
“Bridget. That's a nice name.” he said, “Um, you want to come over now, and chat at the flat? I've got to make sure that we have food.”
“Um..” I hesitated, “I need to brush my hair and stuff. I'll meet you there in...” I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes?”
“Alright.” He agreed, and nodded, “I live just on the other side of the sandwich shop. 221B. Just tell Ms. Hudson that you're here to see me.”
I nodded. “See ya!”
I felt snazzy with my brown plaid fedora perched atop my head and my casual gray jacket unzipped and quivering slightly in the wind, showing my awesome black and gray striped shirt. My jeans were what I called bell bottom, but what everyone else called boot cut. It was just casual wear, but still awesome. Maybe just because I was finally walking the streets of London. In England. In the UK.
I knocked rapidly on the greenish blue colored door that John had pointed to. A lady with too much makeup answered the door.
“Hello? Are you Ms. Hudson?” I asked, “I'm here to see John Watson.”
“Yes, come in dear.” she said, “Sherlock and John are just up those stairs.”
I rushed up the stairs, and knocked on the open door, just to let them know I was entering. John poked his head 'round the corner.
“Oh, Bridget! Come in!” he greeted me.
A tall, dark-haired man lying on the sofa spoke up. “You invited some one over?”
