Six weeks after I was sent home from service in the army my pension money was running dry I realized that I needed a more stable living situation than a hotel room. This called for a job and a flat share. No sooner had these thoughts entered my mind than I was confronted by and old colleague of mine, Michele Stamford. "Joanna!" She shouted from across the bar, "How are you, last I heard you were somewhere getting shot at, what happened?"

"I got shot," I said gesturing to the can I used to hobble around. Michele was larger than the last time I saw her and, by what a quick inspection of her left hand showed, she still wasn't married.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Michele said with a look of horror on her face.

"Oh it's quite alright," I reassured her. "But what on earth are you still doing in London?"

"I received a teaching position at the college, never could seem to leave that place," she informed me. Michele had always been rather fond of that old school. "What are you up to in London?"

"Well I'm in need of a roommate, but I doubt you have any of those lying about," I said joking.

"That's strange," she pondered.

"What is?" I asked over my drink.

"You're the second person to say that to me today," she said looking out the window.

"Who was the first?"

About an hour latter we were walking into the labs of Bart's Hospital where my potential flat mate spent allot of her time. "I don't know a bunch about her," Michele started as we made our way through the building. "She will show up in a whirl of commotion, stay here for days, and then just scamper off, and then no one will see her for weeks. I honestly can't tell you what to expect from her, only that she is rude to everyone," by that time we were just outside of the lab.

"It's a bit different from my day," I said as we entered the room.

"Ah, Michele I see you found someone," she said standing up. The first thing I noticed about her was that she was very tall and her bushy black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. "Do you by any chance have the time? The clock in here is always slow and I forgot my watch at home."

"It's 17:27," I said glancing at my phone.

"Thank you…?" she said leaving the question open for a name.

"Oh, my name's Joanna Watson," I said awkwardly introducing myself.

She looked at me curiously and asked, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan," I responded, I was absolutely amazed and confused. "How did you...?"

"I have this very nice flat in mind," she said as she put her coat and scarf on. "The land lord owes me a favor. I like to play the violin at all hours of the night and sometimes don't talk for days. Would that bother you?"

"No, but, what?" I said stumbling to follow her jumps in conversation.

"Oh I thought that potential flat mates should know the worst about each other."

Yeah we should, but who said anything about flat mates?"

"Well I remarked to Michele that I could use someone to share a flat with and a few hours later she came back with and old colleague of hers. The only logical conclusion was that you were somehow, also, in need of a flat."

She was almost out of the lab when I shouted after her. "Wait, we don't know a thing about each other. I don't know what your name is, when or where we are meeting, or anything."

She swung back in and added, "The name is Sherlock Holmes, the time is ten tomorrow, and the address is 221 B Baker Street." The door closed with a soft click behind her.

"Is she always like that?" I asked Michele.

"You were lucky, she's usually worse."