Just a senseless story that kept popping up in my head. No real plot. Just for fun.
221C was a small cheap place, the only flat Samara could afford for the time being in a place like London. The landlady, Mrs. Hudson (kind woman, who even offered to make the young woman tea, though she stressed, 'just this once dear, I'm not your housekeeper'), admitted to the room being hard to rent out as it was a basement flat, prone to mold. Nonetheless, Samara agreed to rent it out anyways.
Mrs. Hudson assured her it was the same dimensions as the other flats, it was just the lighting that made it seem smaller. "What you think dear?" The dark-eyed woman wondered nervously, she was anxious to rent this place out it seems.
"Cheap, affordable, close to work," the American mused, looking around the damp room where the only light source came from a curtained floor to ceiling window, next to a wooden door leading to stairs connected to the side alley. Samara smiled, turning to face the short-aged woman. "Do you accept pets?"