The Landlady's Assistant - A BBC Sherlock Retelling

Chapter One: The New Landlady

London, that grand old city of fog and shadows, wrapped itself in a chilly, cloudy day. The bitter wind whipped around corners and through the narrow alleys, biting at exposed skin and rustling through the leaves of the sparse city trees. The city was bustling as usual, its symphony of cars, pedestrians, and the occasional street performer creating a comforting, albeit cacophonous melody. Olivia, a silhouette against the grey palette, made her way through this everyday orchestra, her heart pounding an erratic counterpoint to the city's rhythm. She decided she had no other option, and gently rapped the knocker against the front door of the flat. Within seconds, she heard someone undoing the locks from inside, and the door immediately swung open.

She maneuvered the labyrinth of busy streets, head lowered, gaze fixed, every step leading her closer to a decision point. Her destination rose before her, as resolute and imposing as the choice she was about to make. An ordinary flat in a typical London borough, with an extraordinary resident within, a mystery wrapped in an enigma that would soon be her new employer. Olivia hesitated momentarily, her gloved hand hovering over the worn brass knocker. Doubts swarmed in her mind, and fears prickled her skin. Was this what she truly desired? To trade the familiarity of her past for a future shrouded in uncertainty?

A deep breath later, she steeled her resolve, the echo of her choices ricocheting in her mind. "There's no other option," she whispered to the wind, a self-assuring mantra that edged her forward. She reached out, the cold brass of the knocker biting through her glove and gave it a gentle rap. The sound echoed ominously, each knock resounding with the beat of her heart.

A flurry of movement from within followed her knock. The distinct clink and clatter of locks turning, a shadow growing behind the frosted glass pane of the door, and then the aged wood of the door swung open. Olivia stood poised on the precipice of her new life on the doorstep of 221B Baker Street.

The warm light that spilled from the hallway of the flat enveloped Olivia as she was welcomed into 221B Baker Street. "You must be Olivia! It is so nice to meet you. Come in! I'm Martha Louis Hudson. I'm the one who posted the help wanted ad." The words were spoken with an exuberant warmth, breaking through the chill of uncertainty that Olivia carried with her.

Olivia nodded her acknowledgment, taking in the woman in front of her. Mrs. Hudson was shorter, with a gentle, comforting aura around her. The corners of her eyes crinkled with kindness. She wore a warm smile, an offer of comfort, and a promise of friendship in this intimidating city. Olivia was escorted through the living area, its cozy clutter a stark contrast to the sterile modernity she had left behind.

A kettle whistled softly in the kitchen, steam curling into the air. The scent of freshly brewed tea filled the room, a comforting undercurrent to their conversation as they took seats at the small kitchen table. The old table, scarred by time and use, still bore the evidence of countless gatherings, shared secrets, and friendly banter. Mrs. Hudson poured Olivia a steaming cup, to which she thanked her and took a cautious sip.

"So, you're interested in being my assistant landlady?" Mrs. Hudson asked, a hint of playful curiosity lacing her words.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson," Olivia replied, placing her cup back on the saucer with a soft clink, "I have been looking for a new position, and this one seemed perfect."

"Wonderful! I reviewed your application and references, and you seem quite alright, if not overly qualified." Mrs. Hudson's eyes twinkled with a mischievous light.

In response, Olivia confessed, "If I'm to be honest, Mrs. Hudson, I'm quite new to the area and am looking to grasp my surroundings. This wasn't the initial line of work I planned on pursuing, but you know how things can be."