Chapter 1:
Coming back from the battlefields of war it seemed that nothing could surprise john. That was, until he met Sherlock Holmes. The man was an enigma, a mystery waiting to be solved. They had been introduced by an old acquaintance of johns from school. He didn't know what to make of the man. But he didn't mind sharing a flat with him. It should be hassle free. Except, he wasn't expecting her. Or the intensity of emotion that Sherlock had for her.
John had been simply looking for a cheap flat when mike said he knew someone in the same predicament. This, in turn, led them to Bart's laboratory. Maybe his future flat mate was a doctor he thought to himself as Mike knocked on the door and walked into the lab with john limping close behind him. John looked around the lab he had studied in many years prior. It had changed immensely. Everything seemed to be replaced with up to date equipment and technology. He wasn't surprised. "Well, bit different from my day." "You've no idea!" mike laughed next to him. Looking around the room again, he saw a mop of dark curly hair leaning over a microscope. The man was pale and looked to be tall. Without looking up the man addressed mike. "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." Mike gave him a puzzled look. "And what's wrong with the landline?" The man finally looked up. He gave mike a look as if his reason for needing the phone was obvious. "I prefer to text." Mike patted himself down and realized he hadn't brought it with him. "Sorry. It's in my coat." Feeling awkward at the stare the man was giving mike, john fished into his own pockets and took out his phone. "Err, here. Use mine. "The man's eyes swiveled to john's direction. He seemed to be calculating something. "Oh. Thank you." his voice was a deep baritone, john noticed. He glanced at mike before walking over to john. Mike introduced him "This is an old friend of mine, John Watson." Sherlock took the phone from him, turning slightly he flipped it opened and started texting.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" the man questioned. "Sorry?" john asked. He was confused. Raising his eyes to john, he continued typing. "Which was it – Afghanistan or Iraq?" john looked over to mike for help. He received a smug smile. "Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know ...?" before he could continue somebody entered the room. And john had to admit she was quite beautiful. She looked to be a few inches shorter than him. Her black hair fell down to below her shoulder in vines of curls. The dark color of her hair made her bright green eyes pop. She was looking straight past him. Turning to the man he noticed how his whole personality seemed to change. His air of coldness was gone and he was actually showing emotion on his face. He smiled as the woman walked over to him. They didn't speak. It was if they could understand each other with just one look. John shifted uncomfortably. The raw emotions in the room made him feel fidgety. John noticed how the man wrapped one arm around the woman's waist securely as if someone would snatch her at any moment. "How do you feel about the violin?" it took john a few seconds to realize that he was being spoken to. "I'm sorry, what?" the man started typing again. The woman looked at the phone with interest. "He likes to play the violin. He's quite good." her voice matched her face. It was alluring. "Yes, I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other." he then looked at him with an obvious fake smile, before giving the woman a peck on the head.
"Oh, you ... you told him about me?" john asked mike. "Not a word." He said. John could feel intense confusion building inside him. How did he…. "Then who said anything about flat mates?" the man unwrapped his arm from the woman's waist, who was now using johns phone, to put on his coat. "I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flat mate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult a leap. John felt his eyebrows furrow as he tried to make sense of the man in front of him. "How did you know about Afghanistan?" the man ignored him in favor of wrapping his scarf around his neck. Once done he walked back to the woman placing his arm around her shoulder as she gave him back the phone. "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it." Looking from the screen to john he said," We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry – gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary." John was even more confused than before. This stranger wanted to go flat hunting with him, even though they had never met before today. He watched as the man put HIS phone into his pocket and started to leave with the beautiful woman who hadn't said a word since arriving. "Is that it? "He asked. The man turned to him. "Is that what?" john couldn't be any more frustrated than he was now. "We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?" he asked." Problem?" the woman asked raising a dark eyebrow. John smiled in disbelief as she started to laugh lightly, her eyes twinkling. John turned back to the younger man," We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your name. The woman nudged the man slightly with her elbow. "sweetheart." The man turned to her smiling softly before looking at john, the smile gone. "I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him – possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic – quite correctly, I'm afraid." John looked at his leg and started to shift awkwardly under the man's gaze. John couldn't think straight. How could he know all this?
Looking back at the man, john could see him looking smug as he said, "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" he then continued to lead both him and the mystery woman out the door. John thought he was gone until he leaned back into the room. "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is two 221 B Baker Street." And with a click-wink at john and an "afternoon" at mike, he was gone. Hearing the door slam, john turned too mike with a look of disbelief on his face. "Yeah, He's always like that." Mike smiled.
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