Sherlock Oneshots

𝑀𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑚𝑒𝑠

TW:
(brief mention of someone with a terminal illness)

Note:
This one is a quite bit longer than I was expecting. It's more of a short story than a oneshot, but I put a lot of time into it, so I hope you enjoy!

The cabbie door closed a little harder than you wished. You winced at the sound and mouthed a 'sorry' to the driver. The cabbie pulled away and left you to fumble around your luggage. You heaved your backpack behind you and struggled to pick up both carry-on bags. Once you had everything intact, you released a sigh.

It wasn't as chilly outside as you thought it might be. You debated with yourself about whether you should wear one of your trench coats into London. You opted not to, and packed it away in your luggage. And luckily the weather agreed with your decision. Though it wasn't the coldest of days, it was overcast with dull, gray clouds and a slight breeze; the sun occasionally showing its face.

You peered around at your surroundings and took it in. It was a fairly busy street, but you didn't mind. Sleeping with city ambience wasn't an issue for you.

You finally turned towards the building you'd be renting out for a few months. It looked a bit aged, but you fancied that about a building. A light smile graced your face and you started towards the door.

221B

"Baker Street." You muttered to yourself, finishing the address on the door.

You remembered that you needed to text Mary or John when you arrived safely, but your hands were currently occupied.
You dropped one bag and turned the door nob, then picked it up again and shoved your way through the door.

The interior foyer was even more aged, but charming in its own dark...dusty way. You nodded your head as you looked around.

"Cute. I could work with this." You mumbled.

"What was that, deary?" Said a voice behind you.

You turned around to see an old woman with rubber gloves on and a towel resting on her shoulder.

"Oh hi, are you the landlady by chance?" You asked a bit nervously. Her sudden appearance startled you.

"Yes yes! Welcome! I'm Mrs. Hudson!
You caught me doing dishes, so that's why I'm wearing these gloves. Not my usual choice of attire. You must be tired from your travels. Did John hand you the key? He told me you were coming."

"Very nice to meet you. I'm Y/N, and yes! It's right he-." You patted your jacket pockets only to find that they laid flat against you. A wave of dread filled your chest. You patted your trouser pockets. Nothing.

"Erm, he may actually still have it." You giggled sheepishly. "He told me he was going to put it in my jacket pocket, but it doesn't seem to be here. I can text him."

"Oh dear, already lost the key on the first day!" Mrs Hudson giggled. "Don't worry yourself, love. It happens more often than you think."

"Yeah..." you trialed off, frantically texting your cousin's husband.

Y/N: The key is not in my pockets. You sure you put it in my jacket?"

*seen*

...

John: Yeah, it should be in your pocket."

You sighed. But then more text bubbles popped up.

...

John: So sorry, Mary just found it in my pocket."

You were relieved you weren't the one who lost it, but also stumped, because you still didn't have your flat key.