The Science of Sentiment (BBC Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter One: The Residents of 221B

The dull pattering off rain persisted outside the window of 221B. Sherlock Holmes gazed out the glass at the street below, watching the passerby's of early morning London. The storm from last night seemed to have never ended- though the foreboding thunder had ceased, the cold April rain carried on. Sherlock gave a low sigh, pulling himself from his mind palace once again. He was terribly bored. The Yard hadn't had a single interesting case all week, and he was at his wits end. He had even joined his flatmate, John, in front of the television last night. The television. The great Sherlock Holmes would never succumb to such trivial activities, but he was absolutely dying for something to do.
Just as he was considering going for a walk, Mrs. Hudson bustled into the flat, wearing what appeared to be a new dress. Her hair was also styled with a bit more care this morning, and her nails had received a fresh coat of paint the night before.
"Oh Sherlock!" She huffed in exasperation. "Just look at this mess! We have a guest coming by today as well..." She trailed off to herself, rushing to collect dishes off of the desk and papers from the table.
"A guest?" Sherlock inquired, though he had already deduced that much from the landlady's appearance.
"Yes- there's this lovely girl coming by today. She's looking to move into the flat downstairs," she sighed. She walked into the kitchen, only to gasp and turn away quickly at the sight of one of Sherlock's newest experiments.
"Sherlock-!" She hissed.
"Don't touch anything, Mrs. Hudson," he stated coldly.
The woman glared daggers at his tall form before walking to the staircase. "Do try to clean up the mess, Sherlock," She pleaded before returning to her own quarters. He rolled his eyes at her turned back.
Hearing the commotion, John stumbled out of his own room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and hurriedly tying his bathrobe.
"What's all the fuss about out here?" He inquired groggily.
"A woman will be taking the basement flat soon."
John still looked a bit confused in his tired state, but soon processed the information. "Will she be coming by today, then?"
"Obviously."
John let the detective's attitude slide, making his way into the kitchen to start a kettle of tea, as Mrs. Hudson was clearly busy. Sherlock secluded himself to his bedroom for a minute, returning in a pristine purple dress shirt and suit jacket. His hair looked a bit nicer than usual as well, and his flatmate took notice.
"Dressed to impress, are we?" he chuckled.
Sherlock scoffed, "I can't say that first impressions aren't important. Besides, from the way Mrs. Hudson was dressed this person is clearly important in some way."
"Fair enough," John mumbled.
The two sat in their respective chairs, sipping tea and listening to the rain. After a long silence, Sherlock's phone screen lit up and it began to ring. He snatched in off of the arm of his chair, staring intently at the screen for a moment before growling in frustration.
"What is it?" John asked.
"Mycroft."
"Aren't you going to answer it?"
"Why should I?"
"It could be important."
Sherlock huffed like a child, tossing the phone into John's lap. John quickly retrieved it to answer the call.
"Hello?"
"Yes, hello John. You weren't answering your mobile."
John sighed. "Sorry- I left it in the other room..."
"No worries. Anyway, I have a case that Sherlock may find interesting."
John pulled away from the receiver. "He has a case," He hissed to the man across from him.
"Not interested."
"Wha- You were just complaining about how bored you were a moment ago, and now-" Before he could get another word out, Sherlock tore the phone from his grasp.
"Hello," He muttered impatiently into the speaker.
"Ah, dearest brother. Would it be alright if I swung by tomorrow? I have a case you'd most certainly find entertaining."
"I do hope you aren't wasting my time with this-"
"Oh I wouldn't dream of it. See you soon, little brother."

-----

With a colorful string of obscenities, you stumbled into the kitchen to quickly start the coffee maker, a toothbrush still nestled between your teeth.
"(Y/n)?" Lillian called from her bedroom. "Everything okay...?"
"Fine!" You snapped. "Just wonderful!"
You rushed back to the bathroom to finish your makeup and to rinse out the minty toothpaste. You were almost finished, when you earned yourself a painful jab to the eye from your mascara brush. You screamed in frustration, quickly dabbing away the smudges of black.
Lillian rushed to your side. "What is it?"
"Ugh- I completely overslept! Of all the days to sleep past noon, it had to be this one!" You felt like crying. There was no way you were going to make it to your meeting in less than fifteen minutes.
Lillian tried to soothe you, taking hold of your tangled, (h/c) locks and pulling them into a sophisticated-looking braid. "(Y/n), don't worry- I'm sure she'll understand if your a few minutes late."
You gave a deep sigh, continuing to fix your makeup. Of all the days to be late...

In ten minutes, you deemed yourself presentable. You had settled on a long sleeved, faded canary blouse, a short black pencil skirt, and a few pieces of purple jewelry. Lillian pushed you out the door with a small pep talk, and you soon found yourself heading for Baker Street.
The cab bounded down the rainy streets of London, passing a few umbrella-clad citizens. Your clasped hands trembled in your lap. You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves, but you still found yourself shaking in anticipation for your interview. Cursing your nerves, you muffled your hands under your thighs and committed yourself to staring out the window, trying to clear your mind of anything but confidence. This is your life now. Don't mess it up this time.