❝ everyone thinks he's this emotionally stunted psychopath without a heart, but they're wrong ❞
charlotte hudson was always surrounded by people, yet she always felt alone, until she met him.
sherlock holmes was rarely surrounded by people and never...
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The wool of her jumper slightly itched at Charlotte Hudson's neck, making her grunt slightly as she pulled the material away from her skin, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration as she methodically swept the brush across her canvas.
It was midday but the London sky outside was dark and gloomy - a typical day for the city - and the melancholiness of the view was reflected in the blonde's painted landscape.
A curt knock on the door captured her attention as she heard her aunt rush through the flat, a few giggles leaving her lips, making the girl smile.
Charlotte stood up with a sigh, placing her paintbrush into a glass of murky water and wiping her hands on an old rag next to her before emerging from her room and making her way up to flat 221B, where her aunt's newest tenants were looking around.
Charlotte crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe with an amused smile as she watched Sherlock Holmes stride across the flat, making a half-hearted attempt to tidy up a little, throwing a couple of folders into a box and then taking some apparently unopened envelopes across to the fireplace where he puts them onto the mantelpiece and then stabs a multi tool knife into them.
"You've domesticated him already?" Charlotte spoke up, making the other man who was stood in the flat jump, causing a small smirk flicker onto Sherlock's face, "We'll have to keep you."
"John Watson, Charlotte Hudson." Sherlock introduced the pair, gesturing over at them with his hand as he sorted through a pile of papers - meaning he threw them onto the door.
"Hudson?" John asked as he shook her hand.
"Mrs Hudson's niece," Sherlock spoke for Charlotte - as she knew he would, "John is a veteran and Charlotte likes woollen clothing."
"I like to think there's more to me than that." Charlotte chuckled to herself.
"I second that," John nodded with a small smile, before his eyes landed on the mantelpiece, noticing something else odd on it, to which he lifted his cane to point at it, "That's a skull."
"Friend of mine." Sherlock nodded.
Charlotte cocked her head to the side, scrunching up her nose, "Well."
The man waved at her in acknowledgement, "When I say 'friend'..."
He was cut off as Mrs Hudson joined them in the flat, picking up a cup and saucer as Sherlock took off his greatcoat and scarf.
"What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms." The woman said, making Charlotte stifle a giggle in her hand.
