I unpacked the last of my meager belongings into my new flat on Baker Street. The small room in the basement was all that I could afford as a twenty year old on my own in London for the first time. The small basement was slightly dark and damp, but by no means uncomfortable. The rent was more than fair (in fact, it was better than I ever could have hoped for) and my new landlady Mrs. Hudson was the sweetest old woman I ever had the pleasure to meet. Yes, my new flat would make the perfect home. It was my own peaceful place to escape the hustle and bustle of London.
Boom. My stomach lurched and I was certain that my heart skipped a beat. I leaped off my bed and sprinted upstairs, it sounded like a small explosion had gone off somewhere above.
"Mrs. Hudson?" I called trying to suppress the note of panic that I'm sure was only thinly masked. "Mrs. Hudson, is everyone alright? I thought I heard an explosion" I frantically searched the landing for the sweet landlady, and to my surprise, she looked perfectly at ease.
"No need to worry dear, that would just be Sherlock" She said calmly. "Oh dear, I suppose I ought to see what he's done this time."
"This time?" I stammered. "This is normal?"
"You'll get used to it, dear," Mrs. Hudson chuckled as she made her way to another flat in the building. "Sherlock, are you alright in there, dear?" She called through the closed door with a voice colored with maternal concern.
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, just a little experiment," Called a man's voice from behind the closed door.
"Mrs. Hudson, he's gone and blown up the kitchen!" another man shouted sounding caught somewhere between amusement and frustration.
"Sherlock, would you let me in dear, I'd like to see what you've done to the kitchen this time."
This time?
"Don't fret, Mrs. Hudson, it's nothing to worry about," said the first man smoothly. "No, John, don't you dare unlock that door! I can take care of this!"
The closed door swung open, a small man, presumably John, stood there looking frazzled.
"Come in Mrs. Hudson," He sighed. John glanced in my direction and shot Mrs. Hudson a quizzical look.
"Oh, John, this is-"
"Rachel Finch," I turned towards the speaker, it was a tall, pale man covered head to toe in what looked like soot. He was standing in front of the burned remains of what I could only guess was the little experiment "She's the young woman who is renting the flat downstairs. She hopes to be an actress but until she catches her big break, she'll be working in the shop just around the corner," the man sounded bored, as if this was trivial information that was common knowledge to everyone.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I asked apprehensively. Who was this man that knew so much about me? The tall man merely chuckled and turned back to his work.
"Don't mind Sherlock," John said kindly turning towards me "You'll get used to it,"
"He was right about everything, you know," I said, shocked that a complete stranger could know so much about me.
John chuckled darkly "Welcome to Baker Street."