A quick, just-for-fun story for your enjoyment.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, John & Mrs. Hudson. They are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.
No spoilers.
The Flat
Jennifer clutched the advert for the flat in her hand as she followed Mrs. Hudson up the stairs to the first floor.
"It's a lovely flat," the older woman said as she turned at the landing. "I've had several people look at it."
Jennifer smiled and murmured something polite. She had been looking for a place to live for only a couple of days, but she was fast becoming frustrated with the selection. Either the neighborhood was lovely and the flat wasn't, or the flat was lovely and the neighborhood wasn't . Or the landlord wasn't. A woman living alone in London could never be too careful.
Then there was the rent. As Mrs. Hudson showed her a furnished living room with a fireplace she was assured was in working order, Jennifer mentally reviewed her budget. The cost of the flat was at the top of her budget.
The kitchen had newer appliances and a table. The short hall off the kitchen led to a bath and the bedroom. It was very well kept up and very clean. She could see herself living here. And she could afford it. If she didn't eat much. Or at all.
Who was she kidding? A woman living alone in London had to face reality. She couldn't afford it even though she wanted to very badly. With regret, she thanked Mrs. Hudson for showing her the flat and told her she would let her know soon if she wanted it.
As she started down the stairs, two gentlemen entered and bounded up them, passing Jennifer on the landing. "We'll take the flat," the first man in a dark coat said giving Mrs. Hudson a kiss on the cheek before hurrying past and entering the flat.
"Oh dear," Mrs. Hudson said obviously flustered.
"It's alright," Jennifer assured her smiling politely at the second man. "There are several others near the next station I was meaning to check out anyway."
"You're here about the flat?" he queried, looking first at Mrs. Hudson then at Jennifer, his eyebrows drawn together. He had a kind, handsome face and looked at her worriedly.
"It's alright. Really."
Still flustered, Mrs. Hudson followed the man in the dark coat into the flat. Was she saying something about guns?
"I understand there are two bedrooms upstairs," the nice man said helpfully looking down from the stairs above the landing. "We could share. The, er, flat that is, not a bedroom," he finished letting the sentence trail off, obviously embarrassed. Jennifer was sure she would have been able to see a blush if the stairwell lighting had been better.
"That's very sweet-" she started to reply.
The man in the dark coat came to stand next to the nice man. He looked down at her for a moment then said, "No," in a brusque manner and returned to the flat.
Jennifer turned to continue out.
"Um," the nice man said. "He doesn't mean—"
"Thank you," she said pausing with one hand on the railing to look back up at him, "but I'll keep looking."
"Would you like my number?" the nice man asked. "In case you change your mind, I mean."
Jennifer smiled up at him. "Thank you, but I have Mrs. Hudson's. For if I change my mind," she added before turning and walking purposefully down the remaining stairs.
"Oh, Sherlock, there will be none of that," Jennifer heard Mrs. Hudson yell as she let herself out the door shutting it securely behind her. She paused to get her bearings before turning toward the tube station.