Chapter One
You blink the sleep out of your eyes, head resting on your pillow, staring groggily at the ceiling. The smell of Earl Grey tea fills your nostrils as you sit up in bed and take a big gulp from the teacup, which had been sitting on your nightstand, presumably brought in by Mrs. Hudson, your landlady and housekeeper – although she preferred not to be thought as the latter.*
From upstairs, you hear the piercing shriek of an untuned violin. You hold your ears and scrunched your nose in disgust. You ought to give that person a piece of your mind…
A door slams upstairs. It is this that rouses you from your blank staring at the wall, motivates you to dress, and only after do you curiously open your apartment door to see what all the noise is about. However, there is nothing.
Heaving a sigh, you go back inside and head to your refrigerator to browse for some breakfast. Nothing.
You slam the fridge closed in frustration and slide on your shoes, retrieving your keys and umbrella: normal preparations to go outside in the rainy streets of London.
As you lock the door, Mrs. Hudson scolds the man upstairs in 221B. No surprise, as his screechy, out-of-tune violin was the object which had so rudely pushed you from the wonderful land of dreams. A grin graces your features, and once outside, you hail a taxi cab.
“22 Marylebone High Street, please,” you tell the cabbie.
When you arrive, you tip him and gather your belongings, not bothering to look closely at his face.
In the grocery store, you grab a basket and filled it with junk food. You’ve bought everything you need to last you for a month.
Minutes later, at home, you see Mrs. Hudson and two male strangers at your front door, waiting for you. The only thing was, they were facing your door, not you.
“(Your name), are you home?” Mrs. Hudson calls through the door.
After a moment, the taller male speaks. “Well, it looks like she isn’t home.”
“Actually, I’m right behind you.” You respond, smiling, as the two weirdoes and Mrs. Hudson turn around.
The small group parts as you slip your open hand in your pocket and pull out your keys, inserting the proper one into the lock. A satisfying click tells you it is now open. The tall man practically pushes you aside to open the door and lets himself in. Following closely behind are Mrs. Hudson, the shorter blonde-haired man, and you.
Once inside, you head towards your kitchen, hurriedly leaving your groceries on the counter, and boiling water in the kettle. Whilst the kettle was boiling, you put the groceries away as quickly as you could.
As you just barely finish putting away the groceries, the loud screech of the kettle informs you that it is ready, and you set to work making four cups of tea.
The three people sat in your living room, drinking tea silently as you crossed your legs and held yourself while staring at the fire, lost in thought. Tucking your (hair color) hair behind you ear, you sigh quietly. This catches the attention of the man with curly brown hair and sharp cheekbones. He places his teacup on its saucer and set it on the table.
“I’m Sherlock Holmes, he’s John Watson, and we must be going, goodnight,” the one now known to you as Sherlock announces, standing up rather hurriedly.
“Nice meeting both of you,” you reply, standing up and dusting off your skirt before shaking John and Sherlock’s hands and following them toward the door.
They left – or rather, Sherlock hurried off someplace and John ran to catch up – and Mrs. Hudson hugged you before following the boys out.
“Goodnight, dear!” she called from her apartment.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Hudson,” you call back, before heading back inside and locking the door behind you.
A/N: End of chapter one, see ya in chapter two!
Editor’s Note:
*Although in the TV series of Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson does say repeatedly that she is not the boys’ housekeeper, in the original Sherlock Holmes novels, written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, she is indeed the housekeeper. (Also, if you would like to know the identity of said editor, comment, vote, and fan, please!)
