The day I met Sherlock Holmes began like any other. I swatted my alarm when it woke me at eight and mooched down stairs in my pyjamas to make myself a cup of refreshing coffee. I breathed in the caffeinated fumes a s I whipped the gradually cooling liquid into a whirlpool. The high pitched rap on metal on metal signalled the arrival the morning post. A quick round-a-bout circuit of steps collected my mail and found me sitting, knees up to my chest on the sofa. Flicking through the paper stack and sorting out the junk mail from the important mail-well I say sorting, it more consisted of me throwing anything boring over my shoulder, than any actual organisation.

My mobile vibrated like a minor earthquake on the glass table. The caller ID flashed on the screen, Rowan. My sister had moved out a couple of months ago and the house still felt eerily empty. I stared at the phone at it made its way across the table. It fell still and Rowan's voice grated through the speaker, "Alisha I know you're there, you haven't left the house in a week and I can see the mess from here!"

I reached for the phone with a sigh, "Rowan, you're on the phone you idiot."

"Well I can visualise can't I?"

I put on my best no-nonsense attitude and followed her comment up with, "What do you want?"

"Well that's just rude."

"I'm very busy."

"I'm sure," she retorted, sarcasm rolling over her words like waves, "Come out to lunch with me, I'm fairly certain you won't have eaten properly without me around to make you."

"Sushi?" I asked as if the whole arrangement depended on her answer and I knowing full well she hated sushi couldn't have predicted her answer.

"Yeah fine, at two?"

"Ok…" I said, puzzled, "I have some stuff to do first though so I've got to go."

"Ok, bye."

I clicked of the phone call, not bothering to reciprocate her good-bye. I looked down at the cereal packet watch wrapped around my wrist. "Quarter to nine," I muttered into the silence. I should probably think about getting ready I thought.

After a quick shower I buddle myself up in soft white towel, toga style I smiled to myself as the thought passed through my mind. I let my hair fall into loose rings about shoulders, it's almost ebony colouring complementing my caramel complexion.

I dried my hands and flipped open my laptop, a few clicks opened up itunes and I scrolled down through my playlists to find the perfect song. Domino by Jessie J caught my eye and I immediately selected it and flew over to my wardrobe to select my outfit. The song finished and turned to choose another. A blank word document was on the screen it's cursor flickering in anticipation, but I had nothing to offer it.

As if on some deadly cue my phone buzzed for the second time that morning. I let it ring, no voicemail. I relaxed a little but no sooner had it stopped than it started up again. I resolved to switch it off. It's screen went black and I grinned, not today, deadlines were not going to spoil today. I changed the song to Rizzle Kicks' Mama do the hump and Pulled on a dress with a slightly African print and bright bold colours. I smiled, at myself in the mirror, glanced at the make-up momentarily but decided against it. I ran my fingers through my still damp hair as a rushed down the stairs, sliding on the carpet. I practically jumped into my gold trimmed ballet flats, grabbed my keys from the work-top and shut the door behind me.

It felt good to be outside for once, it was colder than I remembered, it must have shifted from summer to autumn. I shivered. I don't drive and as anyone who knows me will testify; me and cars do not mix. I thrust my hand into the road, waving it dangerously in the traffic to flag down a cab. A black taxi pulled over and hopped inside glad of the heat, I let it seep into my bones, storing it for later. "Baker Street," I told the cabby when he asked me where I was headed.

I few minutes later I was standing outside a black front door, gold lettering announced it was 221B Baker street. The newspaper advertisement had stated this was where I should find one Mrs Hudson, so here I was. I knocked and few seconds passed by. The comforting sounds of London, babbling in the background.

A man answered the door. He had cropped hair and dark circles under his eyes. I looked him up and down, taking quick notes about him in the back of my mind. He held himself in a military-esque stance. I drew my eyes away towards his face despite my intense curiosity. I'm looking for Mrs Hudson," I told him.

He smiled warmly at down at me, then stepping aside he gestured for me to come in. I stepped past him and into the slightly gloomy hall way. I rotated on the spot, taking in my surroundings.

"Mrs Hudson?" He called.

"I'm coming my dear," she called from deep inside the depths of the rooms.

He turned back to me still smiling, "Are you here to look at the other flat?"

"Yeah, my place's just too big and empty now that Rowan and her snob of a boyfriends have moved out and I think I just need a change of scenery, I get bored quite easily you see. And then of course there's work which is just so much of a pain, my editor's constantly on my case," I paused and cringed slightly, "Sorry over sharing."

"It's fine," he said, "It's nice to know more than Sherlock for once."

"Who's Sherlock?"

"We live just upstairs in 221B."

"OH! Well good for you."

"No, no, we're not a couple, we're just friends."

"Ok, well, I'm Alisha, Alisha Bennet."

He held out his hand in an offer to shake, "I'm John Watson."

A loud crash came from upstairs followed by the distinct sound of muffled gun fire and breaking glass, "And that's my room-mate Sherlock Holmes."

Mrs Hudson bumbled into the room, balancing a tray of tea and cookies, "I brought four cups," she said, "I wasn't sure if Sherlock would want one or not, you never really know with him."

John nodded knowingly, he headed back into the hall and faced up the stairs toward his own flat, "Sherlock!"

"I'm working!" He shouted back.

"Shooting at rotten eggs in empty jam jars is not working!"

"I'm measuring the radius of broken glass from the point of impact, but for you simple minded folk let's just call it an experiment shall we?"

John knotted and un-knotted his finger behind his back in frustration, "There's another potential neighbour down here don't you want to come and evaluate her or something?"

"Why bother she's probably just boring like the others."

"Come down here and find out for yourself."

John spun on his heel and returned to the sofa in 221A. He was shortly followed by a towering and rather intimidating Sherlock with killer Cheekbones and deep eyes. He dropped himself into an armchair and swivelled himself sideways so he could see at me.

Frowning at him briefly, I turned to John, "So are you ex-military or just on leave?"

"What?"

"The way you hold yourself and the way you dress and behave suggests military, please correct me if I'm wrong."

I couldn't prevent a hint of a smile twitching at my lips as I began, "I know you smoke, which by-the-way so do I," I directed this to Mrs Hudson, "I assume it's not a problem." She shook her head slowly so I continued.

"I also know from the way you were clenching your hands that he," I pointed dramatically over to Sherlock, "really knows how to push your buttons."

I smirked, "I can go on if you'd like."

Sherlock pressed his hands together in front of his face almost as if praying, then suddenly he leapt from his seat, "She can stay," he said simply and he swept out of the door like a bat returning to his cave.

John turned to Mrs Hudson in disbelief, "I think that went very well."

I smiled at my two remaining companions, "Where do I sign?"