Beautiful Liar

London Calling

Life-eh? It's such a wonderful thing. Sometimes it's confusing. Sometimes it's rewarding. And other times, it's just plain frustrating. This secret I've been keeping from the boys is all of the above. I bet you sit there behind your screens saying to yourselves, 'God, does she ever not stop talking about that damn secret.' Well, if you were in my position then you would feel the exact same way. You see, Sherlock is like a big brother to me. Always has been, always will. But if you know your stuff, you would know how much Sherlock hates Jim. And how much Jim hates Sherlock. This, my friends, is my dilemma. If Sherlock ever finds out about my relationship with Jim, I don't know what he will do. My most likely scenario will be Sherlock deducing everything, once again. But I hope for everyone else's sake that he doesn't. To be honest with you, I've no idea what happened on the top of that building. I've no idea what was said. All I know, is that Sherlock thinks Jim's dead. And everyone else believes Sherlock. Oh my- What a world we live in-eh? Anyway, I continue my journey down in the mesmerising city I like to call home: London.

LONDON:

I stepped onto the platform, glad to be feeling the cool breeze on my skin once more. The ride down had been long and tedious. But then again, patience had never been my strongest suit. Jim and I were very similar in that sense. On the large platform, busy men and women hustled about trying to catch their connections to their various destinations. I moved past these people and started towards the entrance. There, a man with a cream coloured jumped stood with his hands in his jean pockets. John. Smiling to myself, I bounded over to him,

"John!" I yelled a little to loudly. John snapped out of his trance and smiled warmly,

"Jules! It's good to see you. Come here, I've missed you." He said in his usual kind tone. Pulling him closer, I rested my head on his shoulder and leant into him. John had always been like an older brother to me, the same with Sherlock. Hmm... I wonder if he's back yet. I pulled away from the hug and lifted my suitcase up, only for it to be snatched away by John. Raising my eyebrows, I smiled and took hold of his arm as we left the crowded station. The cab ride to Baker Street was short and sweet. Not nearly giving John a chance to tell me what had been going on in his life post Sherlock. As the cabbie pulled up outside the infamous building, I sighed a breath of some-what relief. Home-sweet-home. We both exited the cab and headed inside. The smell of nostalgia came flooding back as I stepped through the doorway, nothing had changed since I last saw it. Mrs Hudson still had the same flowers and the smell of baking came drifting into the porch like a summer breeze.

"Ah, home at last." I said walking further into the small porch. John, who had now removed the coat he once donned, was making his way over to the door leading to Mrs Hudson's flat. The stairs leading to was once Sherlock's flat gleamed in the sharp sunlight, blazing in through the window. My mind drifted from nostalgia and back to my husband, who was now on a plane heading to Norway. Suddenly, a loud squeal broke me from my thoughts.

"Juliet Harrison! My dear, look at you." Mrs Hudson hadn't changed one bit. She still had the same style of hair, something of which I thought was quite stylish. Laughing at her remark, I gave her my best toothy smile,

"Mrs Hudson, you've not changed at all. And it's not Harrison anymore..." I held up my left hand showing off my bright diamond. She let out another large squeal and pulled me into a tight hug,

"Oh congratulations dear. So? What do we have to start calling you?" Smiling, I pulled away from the hug,

"Mrs Juliet Brook. But Juliet is still fine." As I said the word 'Brook', I could see the glimmer of interest in John's eyes. Oh? So he'd heard the name before had he?

"Brook?" He questioned suspiciously, I nodded my head firmly,

"Yep. Why? You sound un-happy?" John quickly smiled and shook his head.