Warm brown eyes snapped open at the sound of shouting. Body tense and still in her bed, the girl that had been completely relaxed only seconds ago strained her hearing, attempting to recognize the voices. It sounded like…. But it couldn't be! But it was so distinctive; there was no denying it:

It was his voice.

Not that you'd hear it in the newspapers, but Kaitlyn Jennings lived on Bakers street, right opposite the now-famous Sherlock Holmes and John Watson – she had been for 3 years now. Regardless, she remained in anonymity, because for all the mindless twits that arrived in their sleek, luxury vehicles, none of them were interested in anything on Bakers St, save for one small flat: 221B. To be fair, she wasn't exactly innocent herself – she had been known to casually open a window when Sherlock was excitedly (and loudly) telling John about his brilliant deductions and she wouldn't turn down an opportunity to borrow some milk from them, peek through the blinds now and again... But still, brilliant detective living across from you… What's a girl to do? It wasn't exactly an invasion of privacy to simply sit by her window every Sunday when Sherlock practiced his violin, not like those stupid press people that tried to break in to their apartment and take pictures. She had even gone to visit once or twice, but it wasn't as if Sherlock was particularly accommodating, so John often made them tea in awkward silence interspersed with small talk. Living opposite Sherlock Holmes didn't exactly breed sanity, but you could never fault it for being dull.

Then, two years ago… Sherlock Holmes died. It was all over the news, how he was never really brilliant, he had just hired actors to play the part. Bloody news, they didn't know what they were on about, did they – saying Sherlock was a fake. A fake! Kait couldn't believe her ears – she had heard Sherlock recite to John all the types of tobacco there were, she had heard the rows John and Sherlock had had about the severed fingers and decapitated heads in the fridge – for all the things they called Sherlock after his death, "fake" was the most insulting. She decided to not pay attention to any of it, after that – it was all lies, anyway.

In fact, if she were completely honest, Kait would say that there was always a whisper in her head that Sherlock didn't die. That this was all for show. But as she stared blindly out the window about a year and a half ago, as John moved out of the flat, it really hit her. For the longest time, she kept her windows and blinds shut – she couldn't bear even glancing at 221B, the once lively apartment now so hauntingly empty as it was. It had stood empty for at least a year now and as much as Kaitlyn loved living in Baker's Street – the constant reminder became too heavy in her heart. So, a few weeks ago, Kaitlyn had put a "for rent" sign out.

Now, Kait leapt out of her bed, arms flailing, to draw her dusty curtains aside, not caring that it was past midnight. "Sherlock?" she breathed, her dark eyes searching. She could see her breath fogging up the window, but was instead focusing on the fact that the light in 221B was on, and a very distinguishable silhouette was to be seen. She gasped lightly, pressing her nose to the icy window. Then suddenly Sherlock turned to face her and Kait panicked, dropping the curtain back in place and falling back into her bed. Okay, so it was most definitely him. The dead-but-so-not-dead Sherlock Holmes was once again occupying 221B Bakers Street. So many questions swirled around Kaitlyn's mind as she felt her heart beat slow once more. She closed her eyes. I'll go and see him in the morning… There must be some excuse I haven't used…

At 7:01am on the dot, there was a timid knock on the door – then a moment later, a slightly more confident knock. Kait blearily opened her eyes and huffed. She didn't have to report to work until 8:30, so she had another full hour to sleep… usually. Today though, she raked her fingers through her burnt orange hair as she dragged herself out of bed. Quickly, threw on a dressing gown and wandered to her door. She watched the silhouette of a small man shuffling through the glass, so she cracked the door open. 'Look, if you're here to sell me something, 7am is really not my most approachable time…' she mocked nervous-looking man. 'No.. I mean, I'm so sorry for my intrusion, but I am here to enquire about the flat.' He looked up at her, his almost black, unsure eyes swallowing her into his plight.

Kait took a moment to process this. Flat…? Oh. Oh! Damn, she had forgotten to take the sign down. Damn it. She looked over the man in front of her, who was shivering slightly from the briskness of the early morning and her heart made the decision for her. "Please, come in." She stepped aside and the man entered slowly, unsure of his movements. "Just through there," she said, pointing up the stairs. "Make yourself at home, I'm just going to get changed." She told him and he nodded. She ducked into her room, quickly plaiting her hair to the side and throwing on jeans and a blue tartan shirt, which were closest. Then she rushed upstairs to attend to her unexpected guest. "Nice place…" he said, looking around from his seat on the couch. "Thanks. Do you want something to drink?" she asked, gesturing to the kitchen awkwardly. "Tea?" He said hopefully. "Tea, yeah I can do that…" She looked in the fridge and stilled. Her milk was out of date and she forgot to buy more yesterday. Shit…. Wait. Wasn't this her "perfect opportunity" to see Sherlock? Now wasn't really the time, but…

"My milk is out, do you mind if I pop across the way and get more?" She said to the man, who shrugged. He seemed harmless enough, so Kait decided it was safe to go and run across the road. A long few seconds after she knocked on the door, John answered. "Kait!" he said, surprised. "What're you…?" He shuffled around, looking upstairs, uncertain. "D'you have any milk I can borrow? I just realized I'm out and I have someone over to look at the place." She explained. John shuffled some more. "Oh… Milk. Yeah, of course. C'mon up." He led the way upstairs and head directly to the fridge. Kait, meanwhile, stopped in the doorway when she saw the occupied couch. "G'morning, Sherlock." She said shyly, only to be received by a long and awkward silence. John sighed. "Oh, for god's sake Sherlock, the girl hasn't seen you in two years. She thought you were dead! The least you could do is say hello." he grumbled, and Sherlock finally paid her some attention.

"I saw you watching us last night."

It was said in such a nonchalant way, but still, he had to be curious enough to say it, right? It wasn't the attention she wanted, but okay. She felt her face flush underneath her freckles, almost to the colour of her hair, and quickly defended herself. "Yeah well... I heard you havin' a row. I had to see for myself, didn't I?" She kept her eyes locked with Sherlock's for a while before he looked away and sighed. "You moving, then?" he asked, eyes sliding to look out the window, where the For Sale sign could be seen. "I… er." Kait paused. Was she moving now? There was really no point… But was it worth sticking around, just for Sherlock…? His eyes wandered back to hers. "No." She said, unable to control herself. "Couldn't find anywhere that suited me… I forgot to take down the sign." She lied. What? "Hmmm…" He injected non-committedly, then grabbed his dressing gown in a flamboyant manner and twisted to lay down on the couch facing the wall, obviously not wanting to continue the conversation. Kait sighed, it almost seemed like everything was back to normal.

John gave her a bottle with some milk, finally. "Thanks, John… Bye, Sherlock." She nodded to John and didn't wait for an answer from Sherlock, because she knew that she wouldn't get one. Soon enough she was back in her own flat, pouring tea for a stranger. "So, um… Sorry, but I've decided I'm gonna stay here." She said awkwardly. The man's expression turned sad, but then brightened. "I don't have a home anymore, I sold it to move out to London… Kind of went all out, you know?" He smiled, and Kait found herself smiling at his courage. "I'm an actor, you see… and I really need a place to stay. This place, it's perfect, my new agent's office is not five minutes away." He cleared his throat. "Is it possible… I mean, if it's all right with you, of course, if we share? I don't have anywhere else to go and this flat is so close to everything… It just seems like a dream come true."

Kait listened closely and considered. Sure, she was used to living alone and it'd be kind of weird to have someone else here, but was she really going to deny this man a roof over his head? She imagined him sleeping on the street, shivering, all because she said no to him. "I, um…. I have to start work soon, so it feels a bit rushed, but can you give me the day to think about it? I'll get back to you by tonight, for sure." She stumbled across her words, reluctant to let this man so readily into her life, yet not willing to let him go without a place to live. There certainly was more to this man than meets the eye, Kait could tell, but would she like what she found if she scratched the surface? She realized she was staring at the man… and he was staring right back. She laughed awkwardly and he looked away, running his hands through his short dark hair. She heard him chuckle. "Y'know… I just realized… I haven't even asked you for your name yet. I'm Kaitlyn, by the way – but everyone calls me Kait. You are…?" The man before her set down his tea, got up and quickly strode over to her. With a glint in his eye that Kait couldn't quite place, he gave her a genuine smile and held out his hand.

"Richard Brook, but you can call me Rich."

Hi everyone! I don't know where this is going to lead, but I bet it's somewhere exciting! Whoever reviews gets Moriarty-shaped cookies (spoiler: they're adorable)! ^-^

P.S. There is a link to a gallery of the girl I based Kait on in my profile. Take a look!