I was on my way to visit an old family friend, Dr. John Watson. He was staying in a place on Baker Street. My mother had just left to train as a nurse so I had to find lodging until my Grandfather was prepared for me.
When I was dropped of at No. 221 B Baker Street, I could smell strong tobacco
and I could hear a violin playing. My eyes went to the window, the drapes were down but
I could clearly see the shadows of two men. One man, who I note was thin, was playing
the wonderful music and the other were reading in front of the fire. I knew one had to be Dr. Watson, more than likely he the one was reading. I ran through the rain to the door and rang the bell.
"Hello?" someone said, as they opened the door.
"Dr. Watson?" I asked, knowing he was waiting for me to arrive.
"Hello, Annabelle, oh my goodness look at how much you've grown!" exclaimed Dr. Watson.
"You haven't changed a bit," I laughed. He always had said that when I was younger, but this time it was true. I hadn't seen him since I was ten years old; now I was fifteen..
Dr. Watson said, "Annabelle, I would like you to meet my companion."
A tall blonde man with hawk-like features came to the door. He had a violin in one hand and a bow in the other. His eyes sharp and piercing. He had to be over six feet tall and he was thin."Hello, you must be Annabelle," said the tall man, "You're about fifteen no older and you have a white long-haired cat..."
"This is Sherlock Holmes," interrupted Watson.
"Pray, sit down," added the tall man while sitting down in a green armchair and lighting a pipe.
I looked around seeing many different things. I saw some chemicals by the back
wall. Dr. Watson went to another room to get something. I remember when Dr. Watson first moved to Baker Street all the letters he sent us. Mr. Sherlock Holmes was definitely an interesting man.
Dr Watson walked in holding an envelope. "Here, your mother wrote you."
Dear Anna,
I hope you like where you're staying. I have just started my training. They said that I had great potential. Do you like Mr. Sherlock Holmes? Well ,if Dr. Watson moved in with him then he must be nice. Well ,I must be off.
Your-ever loveing mother,
Catherine McKellen.
After I had read this, I wondered how Mr. Holmes could have known all those things about me after just one look. Then I wondered why he was so silent. I remembered the newspaper articles that I had read: he was the writer. The great detective. Then my thoughts were broken when Dr. Watson came in to the room.
"Anna, would you like something to eat?" asked Dr. Watson.
"Yes please, I'm famished," I answered as I realized how long it had been since last ate.
"So, Miss McKellen, how is your mother?" asked Mr. Holmes as he put more tobacco in his pipe.
"How did you know my last name?" I asked, arching a brow.
"You're all he has talked about this whole week," he said, seeming not to care.
"Really, sir?" I asked.
"Pray, call me Holmes," he said slowly.
"Sir - I mean Holmes, are you the great detective that everyone chats about and who writes in the newspaper?" I inquired.
"You read those?" he gasped, sitting up looking at me in wonder.
"Yes, I enjoy reading your cases," I chuckled, feeling like a child.
At that moment, Dr. Watson walked in with three cups and some cookies on a silver tray. He placed the tray down on a table. Holmes stood up to take his tea, then sat down again. He surely was an interesting man. Personally, I felt very uncomfortable around him.
His gaze fell on me again, "So, Miss McKellen, how long do you plan on staying here?"
I quickly answered, "not long, a few days perhaps."
Holmes laid back in his chair, smoking his pipe. I noticed that Dr. Watson looked like he was thinking about something. I did nothing except sip my tea and eat a cookie or two politely. Finally, Watson broke the silence.
"Anna, how is your mother doing in her studies?" he asked smiling.
I looked at him trying to find words. "Well, mother said she was doing fine."
The clock struck ten. I yawned lightly, then finished my tea. Mr. Holmes finished his tea, then started to stand.
"Well, good night Watson, Miss McKellen," he said stumbling into his room. With that note, I was tired and getting very sleepy. It had been a long ride. Dr. Watson saw this and stood up. He took the tray to the kitchen and came back.
"You look tired," he said slowly.
"Yes, it has been a long day," I sighed.
"Follow me, I'll show you to your room."
So I went to bed. When I was alone in my quiet room, thoughts poured into my head about that strange man, Holmes. Watson must have told him about me. Wait, Dr. Watson didn't know I had a cat. What if Mr. Holmes is a genius- oh that's impossible.