Author's Notes: Ok so this is my first fic. I think it'll be good. Maude is my OC. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. That would be cool if i did, but I don't.

Her name was Maude: a 29 year old American woman, 6 years out of college, graduated with an Art Major, now living with a friend in London, England. A fresh start was her excuse for moving to a new country. It's hard to live in the same house where your mother was shot to death in an armed robbery. But that was all in the past.

A red wool hat hastily shoved onto head, wavy brown hair in face, Maude rushed out the door and locking it behind her, ran out onto the street. She was going to be late yet again for her professional choir rehearsal and they had a performance approaching quickly. Now was not the time to be missing, or even being late for practices. Especially around Christmas time. She quickly waved down a Taxi. That was the nice thing about London: Not owning a car, and therefore not having to pay for gas. Plenty of Taxi's for everyone.

"Northumberland Street, please." She told the driver, thrusting a fistful of cash over the back of the seat. He took the money and asked, "Any specific place, ma'am?"

"No, no, just drop me off at that little ugly green restaurant; you know the place I'm talking about?"

"Sure do, ma'am." And he pulled into the road and they were off.

It was not a very long ride; ten minutes at most. Maude normally would've walked but when you sleep in until 10 and then paint for the rest of the day, you sometimes lose track of time and then the next time you look at the clock it's already 4pm and you know you're going to have a very angry instructor if you don't get going. Maude loved to paint, and as long as it wasn't a nude picture, her flat-mate and friend, Molly, didn't mind her covering the walls with them. It helped her get away from the chaotic world for a while. The painting she had been trying to finish all day was one of the street she lived on. In the painting, people were happy and walking their dogs and with their lovers. It was perfect.

Maude tried to smooth out her rumpled coat and fix her hair. She hadn't even had time to put on make-up. Though she wasn't too worried about that, all her friends said she looked fine without it.

They were almost their destination when the driver's phone rang. He answered it and after a few excited exclamations and a, "I'll be there as soon as possible!" he hooted with laughter. "What is it?" Maude asked cautiously.

"My wife!" he called back joyously, "she's in labor!" Whoa, talk about unexpected. "Congratulations!" Maude told him. He looked at her in the rearview mirror expectantly. She paused, and then sighed, realizing what it he was asking. "Alright, just drop me off here." She gestured to a small store just up ahead. He wanted to get to his wife as soon as possible. A few more minutes of driving wouldn't make much of a difference but she could understand.

"Thank you!" he said pulling off to the sidewalk. Maude got out and wished him luck. He thanked her again then sped off, earning himself a few angry honks. Maude had come to terms with her tardiness a while ago but still didn't want to get kicked out of the program, so she ran. Paint-stained leather bag filled with now crumpled sheet music clutched to her chest, she ran, calling apologies back to people she collided with.

Two more blocks, just two more blocks, she thought. Her sides ached and the cold air rushing against her face wasn't helping either. She knocked into a man and he stumbled, shouting angrily after her.

"Sorry!" she turned without stopping, a grimace on her face. The unfortunate thing about not looking where you are running is you tend to crash heavily into objects. The object in particular being a tall man who had stepped suddenly out of a café and into her path. They spun awkwardly, and as she tripped over his foot he grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Her bag tumbled from her grasp and sheet music floated all over the sidewalk.
"No! No, no, no, no!" She muttered and hastily dropped to her knees to gather the paper.

"My apologies," the tall man said. He voice was deep and haughty, as if he thought it was her fault.

"It's fine." She looked up at him and faltered for a moment. His thin face was striking; deep chiseled cheekbones cut under his narrowed eyes, which rested beneath lowered eyebrows. Dark curly hair spilled onto his forehead. Maude gathered herself.

"Though, I would be very grateful if you would help me." Sarcasm tinged her voice, and he heard it, his eyes narrowing even more, but he obliged. Together they quickly finished gathering the spilled contents of her bag. They stood and he held out her bag.

"You should watch where you're going next time," he disciplined, a smug look upon his face, as she snatched it from his hands.
He smiled disarmingly, "Have a wonderful evening." And with that, he spun around, his long coat twirling dramatically, and strode off. She stared at his retreating back with a look of disbelief and contempt on her face. What a rude man! Then she added, but what a memorable face! Strong featured, intelligent face, handsome but not perfect…everything you need for a painting! She told herself he would make a better painting than person. Then she remembered choir and took off running again.

Maude arrived back at the apartment late that night. After choir she had gone to a bar and partied to get rid of the stress. It worked; she was stress free and very drunk. Her hands fumbled at the lock on the door and when she realized she couldn't get the key in, she pounded the door with her fist.
"Molly!" her voice slurred the name noticeably. "Molly! Let me in! I am too drunk to fit the key into the lock!"
She heard the door being unlocked from the inside and waited for her flat mate, Molly, to open the door.

"Drunk again, huh?" Molly asked, yawning. It was 1:00am. Maude gave a guilty smile.

"You got me."

Molly sighed and stepped aside to let her in. Their flat was small—two bedrooms, living room, kitchen—and modest, with cream walls adorned with Maude's paintings. Molly led Maude to her room, both stumbling and swaying, Molly from weariness and Maude from drunkenness. As Maude collapsed onto her bed she muttered, "I met, well crashed, into someone today. A man."
Molly grinned, "Oh really? Well, why don't you tell me about him tomorrow?"

"Oh alrigh'."

Then Maude passed out.