I knock on the door and take a deep breath before knocking.
I hear the sweet voice of my grandma yelling 'coming!' and a smile breaks out across my face as I hear it.
She opens the door, leaning up against one of the walls with a crutch on the opposite hand. "(Y/n)!" She cheers happily.
I chuckle and walk forward to hug her. "Hey, Grandma. Let me help you." I suggest, trying to shift my bags to one hand.
"No, no. I'll get the boys. Boys!" She says, then yells and I raise a brow confused.
"What, Mrs. Hudson!" A deep voice yells back, sounding agrivated and busy.
I immediately feel my face heat up in embarrassment. "It's fine, Grandma. Really."
"Oh, don't worry about Sherlock." She says, smile stretched across his face. "John will come."
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson?" A different voice says and I look up to see a man with blond hair (that looked streaked with grey) walk down the stairs. "Oh, hello." He says, as soon as his eyes meet mine.
He immediately starts straightening up his appearance. "Here, let me help you with that." He says, taking one of my bags from my hands.
"Thank you." I say kindly with a smile. "Come on, Grandma. Let's get you to a seat." I coo softly and she nods her head and I half way carry her to the sitting room.
"Where do you want these?" John asks holding up one of the bags slightly.
I bite my lip slightly. I didn't think about that. Clearly Mrs. Hudson thought the same thing as we shared a look.
"Basement." "Upstairs." We say at the same time.
"The basement's fine." I say, louder this time.
"Oh, no! It's moldy down there! I couldn't possibly make you stay down there!" She says, sounding hurt.
"She's right." John says frowning slightly. "You'd get sick if you stayed down there. You can have my room." He explains and my eyes widen.
"No! I mean, no. I couldn't possibly do that to you. I'll just... sleep down here on the couch." I say, forcing a smile and motioning to the couch.
"No." John says firmly. "Come on, I'll show you the way. You coming up Mrs.Hudson?" He asks, turning to the older lady.
"Yes, I need to speak to Sherlock about his manners while she's here. Don't want her running off, do we?" She asks and we all chuckle slightly.
"You don't need to worry about that Mrs. Hudson. I was actually thinking off moving down here soon." I explain and her eyes light up.
"Oh, that would be wonderful." She says excitedly. John and I share a look at her happiness as it spread out to us. It was just the kind of person that she was.
We start the trip up the stairs. John went first, rushing up to sit my bags down somewhere then came back down to help carry Mrs.Hudson up.
Once we made it up the stairs and into another sitting room, we sit the poor lady onto the worn couch.
"I'd offer to get some biscuits." She says with a sad chuckle then points to her leg. "But it's hurting right now."
"Don't worry, about Grandma. I got it." I say with a smile but John quickly steps infront of me.
"No. You're the guest. Sit down, I'll go make some tea too. Maybe I can convince Sherlock to stop pouting." He says, rolling his eyes then walks into the dirty kitchen.
I raise my eyebrow, silently questioning why 'Sherlock' was pouting. He must have been the first voice I heard.
"He's upset, Sweetie. Don't really know why, but you just get used to it with him." She says with a quite voice then pats the middle cushion beside her, signaling me to sit beside her.
I take a seat and sigh. She takes my hand into hers and smiles up at me. "It's been so long since I've last seen you. Your were just a wee little tike. I swear, it's like yous shoot up like weeds."
I chuckle and look up to John as he walks back in and hands me and Mrs.Hudson a cup with warm tea in it. I smile up at him and nod in thanks.
"Thank you." I mumble and he chuckles.
"You're welcome." He says then takes a seat in an armchair close to the couch. "Sherlock said he'll come out, but I told him he's got to get decent. That probably means he'll come out in his sheet." He says with a shy and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Sounds like a nice guy." I joke.
"I'm not a nice guy." The deep voice I heard not to long ago grumbles as he walks into the room, just finishing up buttoning his shirt. He then looks up to me and freezes slightly. I stand up to shake his head.
"(Y/n)." I introduce myself politely, silently realizing I didn't do the same for John. "You must be Sherlock?"
He stares at me for a minute then starts shooting off like a gun. "Living on the road for awhile after an abusive breakup. Must not have been to long ago because the bruises on you're arms are still present. Mother died when you were young, then you're father abandoned you later on. Mrs.Hudson is the only close family member you have left and the excuse to come over to help her with her broken leg was perfect. You didn't want to seem helpless, but you were lost. You love you're grandma, but it makes you sad to see her." He pauses and takes a deep breathe. "I got something wrong didn't I?"
I stare up at him in shock. My mouth has fell slack and I had no idea how to close it. Much less respond.
"Yeah, uh, sorry. He does that." John says standing up. "Sorry." He apologizes again and I finialy close my mouth and beam at the men, while also feeling like I might just cry.
"That was incredible." I mumble. "How'd you know all that stuff? I haven't told anyone."
"Wait, abusive?" Mrs. Hudson says from on the couch, sounding as if she might just cry.
"Oh, Grandma." I coo, swiftly sitting back down beside her. "It was nothing. Just be glad I had the brain and capability to leave unlike others." I say soothingly and her bottom lip starts trembling some.
John slowly takes a seat back in the armchair and Sherlock picks up the violin.
"What's your tolerance to Violin?"
