221C Baker Street: A Sherlock Fanfiction

chapter :: one ::

The violin's soft notes resonated across the room and settled in the peeling floral wallpaper. They seeped into the wood and enveloped  Emmeline in her music. 

She had arrived at 221C Baker Street nearly an hour ago and had yet to unpack her suitcases.

The landlady, Mrs. Hudson, had been very prominent and kind in her proposal for rent. Originally costing far above Emmeline's price range, Mrs. Hudson had knocked off quite a large chunk due to "impending mold issues." Luckily, her full-ride to the Trinity Art Academy's music program allowed the college funds saved by her parent's to pay for rent. The original wallpaper had been replaced but was still, nonetheless, shabby. Emmeline continually kept making a mental note to ask Mrs. Hudson the best way to tackle the hardwood floors and the proper care to take for the stiff air. It was obvious the apartment hadn't been rented to anyone in years and Emmeline could hardly care. She preferred quite areas where should could stay holed up for days or weeks at a time. She was always working on a violin piece, reading a new book, or just simply stuck in her own head.

Her violin was suffering the backlash of her conflicting feelings now and she nearly broke a string as she clasped the bow. The flight from America to London had gone a lot smoother than she had planned. Her bare feet curled on the hardwood floor as she thought about traveling alone-again. Emmeline had traveled once in a plane, with her parents to Asia, and as she recalled the bumping of the metal machine she nearly got sick. It wasn't the same without them.

Her parents had planned to come along with her and help unpack. But since the divorce drove them to different parts of the States, she could barely convince them to see her off at the airport. Her mother didn't want to be in the same room as that "cheating fool" and her father certainly didn't care enough about her education. He didn't want Emmeline to travel to Europe for college anyway. Especially not for a degree in music.

Sighing, her fingers stopped on the strings and she slowly lowered the violin to her side. If only her parents could see her now. They questioned whether she could find an apartment on her own, if she would even be able to remind herself to eat when she got trapped in her cycles. Looking around the apartment, Emmeline decided it may be best to unpack for her benefit or the distraction, she wasn't sure. 

As she sifted through boxes of her old belongings, from books to photos, she realized that it wasn't the best idea. The photo from last Christmas had a thin, hair-line crack in the glass and she slowly rose from her kneeled position on the floor and placed it on the repaired fireplace mantle. She remembered the day it was taken, days after her father came home drunk and ruined their family. In the photo, she stood between her parents. A human barrier. Her mother's eyes were brimmed with wrinkles and no makeup could hide the pain in her eyes. Her father had a monotone face, his hands were clinched tightly at his sides.

Emmeline tore her eyes away from the photo and began shoving belongings in nooks and crannies throughout the room. All her books were stacked precariously near the mantle and on the floor, under desks and on desks. By the time she finished unpacking the living room it looked like an everyday hermit's paradise. Emmeline laughed and threw herself onto the small loveseat. Dust puffed into the air and Emmeline begin choking, muffled by the laughter bubbling from her mouth. Her parents thought she couldn't do this. She has to do this.

Rising from her position, Emmeline decided to skip the rest of the packed boxes and head to Speedy's to buy some items from Mrs. Hudson. She gathered her coat from the rack and her keys from the bowl near the door and stepped out of her apartment into the dimly lit hallway. She pulled the door shut behind her and locked it. Pushing the wood to ensure it wouldn't give, Emmeline made her way out the front door and onto the busy streets of Baker. It was always bustling, people moving with their faces down against the wind. Turning up her coat collar, Emmeline trudged along the side of the fence to the cafe.