Flat Mates

Chapter One: The Move

Margaret lied motionless in her small twin sized bed thinking about the unfortunate events that would unfold this afternoon. Her charcoal eyes glanced around her small messy room. a small black suitcase, shoved into a dark corner in her room, was forced shut bulging slightly from the mass amount of clothing she had attempted to pile into it. Wiping her crusted over eyes, Margaret stood slowly allowing her body to adjust to the sudden movement. She stumbled her way across the small room turning on the stove placing a pot of water over it allowing it to boil. To pass time, she finished packing and texted her brother, telling him she was almost on her way. Margaret never enjoyed spending time with her brother when he was mourning, she tended to be antisocial and never good at comforting. But when John Watson had texted her asking to move into a flat with her, she knew he was in a terrible state of grief to rely on her for companionship. How could she refuse? She sighed quietly thinking to herself, how could one man she didn't even know effect her life so greatly?

"strange world." Margaret murmured to herself sipping a cup of freshly brewed coffee, burning her mouth in the process. A sudden knock on the door shook her from her day dreams. Cursing to herself, she ran to the door and threw it open. A short man who had the shape of a bowling ball stood smiling at her door. Margaret made silent deductions of the man. Marriage ending in a messy divorce due to his eating habits. Clearly he still loved his ex wife due to the fact the ring was worn on his left pointer finger. His clothes were tight on him, he bought them a size smaller in hopes of encouraging him to lose weight. He was very forgetful about small things, such as taking the tag off of his shirt or putting his watch on backwards. Also judging by his shoes, he wasn't a solicitor, but the mover Margaret had hired three days ago. She stepped aside allowing the short man to step into her square room. A look of disgust fell over his face causing Margaret to scoff silently, as if a mover who was recently divorced and pouring buckets of money into useless weight loss books and special weight loss classes could do any better, she thought to herself. "Yeah so all the furniture apart from the stove and fridge will be moved. Ill but the boxes away but ill leave you to the larger furniture items." Margaret said with a bored tone in her voice as she began picking up boxes and heading towards the truck, thinking to herself how lucky she was to be living on the bottom floor of the large apartment building.

Over in London, John Watson tidied up the flat he was living at for about the one hundredth time that morning. He felt as though he had to impress Margaret, even though she was his sister. He hadn't spoken to her in years and he was incredibly nervous. John knew how much Margaret was like his recently departed best friend. She had the same brilliant gift, that he was somewhat envious of, as his old flat mate. A rock formed in his throat at the thought of the good times he had had with the man in the silly hat. His landlady, Mrs Hudson interrupted his moment of mourning with her cheery smiles.

"Good morning John, would you like a cuppa?" Mrs. Hudson called from in the kitchen. John gave a short grunt in reply.

"A couple of biscuits would be nice thank you." He called out to her while reading the daily paper.

"not your housekeeper!" she reminded while fetching the biscuits in one of the drawers. Two short knocks on the door sent Johns nerves off the fritz. He knew Margaret would be disappointed in him for letting his life become such a dump. He got up to open the door for his younger sister.

"Hullo Margaret!" John exclaimed in a miserably fake cheery tone. She smiled slightly, the smile not reaching her eyes, before she began her deductions.

"you've gained five pounds recently." she stated with the faintest smirk playing on her pale pink lips. Her eyes crinkled slightly, unable to hide a grin. John sighed heavily before grabbing her and giving her a huge bear hug.

"Three pounds, actually." John said while laughing slightly, glad his childhood friend had returned. Family and support was just what he needed in trying times like these. Margaret pulled back slightly making sure the hug didn't last too long.

"Where do you want me to put my things? I brought my furniture because there is no way I'm moving back to the box I lived in. Do you know any flats I could rent out around here? She asked breaking the silence. Mrs Hudson walked in, investigating the commotion going on in the main room.

"You must be Margaret!" she exclaimed while giving her a hug. Margaret rolled her eyes to John and did not hug back. Smiling falsely when Mrs Hudson let go. "Your rooms are just this way, and the flat right below this could work perfectly. I can have your stuff brought there but I doubt you'll be needing to use your flat. It'll be ready for you just in case, though." she said while waving her arm, beckoning Margaret to follow her. Unpacking her things in Sherlocks old room, she looked at the mirror that hung on the door. Margaret was born with natural beauty. She had dark eyelashes that required no mascara, and almost flawless skin, apart from the small freckles that kissed her pale face. Her thick dark red hair was thrown into a loose bun from earlier that morning. She felt extremely fortunate to not be stuck with the boring blond hair John was stuck with. Margaret was also very pleased with the fact that she was short, she felt having red hair and being tall would attract to much attention. Sighing lightly, she opened the door and walked into the main room where John was sitting. Looking around, she sat opposite of john, in a rather comfortable arm chair. Feeling Johns stare, she stared back. John frowned slightly.

"That's Sherlocks chair." He stated

"it appears to be that." Margaret challenged back. John opened his mouth to say something, but thought it wise not to, and shut it again returning to the newspaper he was reading. Margaret let out a bored sigh and looked around the dusty flat for anything to do. Her eyes rested on a box shoved into the corner of the flat. Jumping up quickly, she made her way to the box. Opening it up, she found a mountain of papers that all had to do with crime. Inside the box was an envelope that read the words, 'unsolved', on it. Interested, She flipped it opened and pulled the papers out sitting back on her chair. Crossing one leg over the other, she began working out the cases.

John glanced up at her and drew a double take, his stomach flipped repeatedly. Margaret was sitting exactly how Sherlock would sit when solving a case. What went unnoticed earlier, now was the main focus of his attention. Margaret was a black trench coat. It wasn't as long as Sherlocks, but it painfully reminded John of him. Margaret also wore black Jeans and a dark blue dress shirt that was tucked loosely and informally into her jeans. She also wore short high heeled black boats. A question was forming in the back of Johns head, and curiosity took the best of him.

"Margaret did someone tell you to dress like him?" He asked, feeling he did not need to explain any further.

"Him meaning Sherlock I'm assuming, and no, this is how I always dress surely you can remember from high school?" Margaret spoke with a twinkle in her eye, remembering that silly day in high school.

She barged into the room holding a magazine in her hand marching straight up to their mom who was preparing dinner, causing john to glance up from his book he was reading.

"Mother this! This is what I want oh please can we buy it? I promise I wont ask for any thing ever again!" She begged her mom pointing at the girl in the magazine. She was wearing a Black trench coat and a dark blue dress shirt that was loosely tucked into black jeans. Margaret Had seen this magazine on the way home and claimed it spoke to her. She begged their mother for weeks until she finally gave in, and Margaret wore that outfit almost everyday since.

John smiled at the memory that had also formed into his mind. "How could I forget." he spoke, his voice distant, trapped in the happy memory. Resuming their activities, the room was enveloped into a comfortable silence.

after an hour, Margaret let out a squeal and jumped out of the chair almost dancing.

"What on earth are you doing?" John called utterly confused as to why Margaret seemed so happy.

Holding up the papers in her hand, a dangerous grin formed across her face, "Solved it."

The color of Margarets hair: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiXk4PDpb_UAhWi3YMKHXi4DqcQjRwIBw&url=https%3A%2F%2Fin.pinterest.com%2Fexplore%2Fdark-red-hair%2F&psig=AFQjCNGoDrSjpHB00MJ5Z6uWO0SZTo4E3w&ust=1497596927787745