Wondered what Sherlock would do with someone who honestly didn't care about his detective skills. Figured his reaction would be hilarious.

Sherlock stomped down the stairs of his flat, having just finished unpacking most of his belongings in 221B. He was currently on his way to catch a cab, but paused when he heard loud music and someone singing in 221C. It's not Mrs. Hudson, the voice is too young and the song is American. Glancing at the door, Sherlock debated on whether he should investigate or continue on his way. Deciding rather quickly, he turned towards the other flat and walked towards the open door, the voice becoming clearer as he peeked in.

"Maybe I should cry for help. Maybe I should kill myself. Blame it on my A.D.D. baby. Maybe I'm a different breed. Maybe I'm not listening. So blame it on my A.D.D. baby."

Watching the figure from the door, he began to silently analyze them. A woman it seems, judging from what curves I can see. Youngish, late twenties. Black hair, sort but with a long pony tail in the back. Definitely different. She wanted it short but someone close wanted it otherwise. A mother perhaps. Isn't making a whole lot of money, judging from the state of her clothes and an artist, as the paint under her fingernails and the calluses show. Still in a rebellious phase, what with the multiple piercing in her ears and the peeking of a tattoo just below her neck. Ah, in a relationship as well. There's a light bruise on her neck. Clearly American, but why would she be here? I see. Sharing a flat with her boyfriend, combined with the obvious showing of her rebellion, she was probably running from home. Had an argument with her parents, most likely about her wanting to become an artist, thus from a richer family who wanted her to do something else.

The woman still had not taken notice of him as she sat on a ladder, patching a hole in the ceiling. As the song coming from the radio on the floor finished, Sherlock decided to make his presence known.

"I assume Mrs. Hudson hired you to do repairs on this flat?"

The woman jumped, very nearly falling off the ladder as she caught the falling container full of plaster.

"Bloody hell! What's your problem?! Don't you know not to freak out a person when they're working on a ladder?!"

Sherlock was surprised at the fluent British accent, having expected an American one, but quickly sobered up as the woman climbed down and looked up to inspect her work.

"You have a British accent." He blurted out and she gave him a look.

"Rightly so, I would think. What with living in Britain an' all."

"But you're American."

She hardly looked surprised. "I may have been born there, but I've lived most of my life here. And, just so you know, Mrs. Hudson did ask me to help with fixing up this flat. I'm guessing you're the bloke up in 221B she told me about. Sherlock, right?"

"Yes. Sherlock Holmes."

She nodded. "I'd shake your hand and all, but I don't think you'd want to be covered in plaster. I'm Jess Huttner, if you're wondering."

She started moving the ladder to another portion that needed plastering, and climbed up to do that as well.

"Your father's a lawyer."

Jess nodded, not really caring for the bland conversation, being more focused on her work. "Sure is. Now shouldn't you be going? You were on your way somewhere, judging by the looks of things."

He raised a brow. Perhaps she's more interesting than I thought. "How do you figure that?"

"You've got your coat on and I doubt you would come down here purposely. You probably heard me earlier and decided on a whim to come check it out. After all, we don't know each other and there's no other reason to be down here in this musty place."

Sherlock stood there for a minute, when a phone went off and Jess groaned.

"Again?" She muttered and pulled out a phone, that looked like it had been through hell and back. "Hello?"

Sherlock decided that it would be best to leave now or he wouldn't get what he needed done, done. So he silently left, leaving Jess to argue with—what he assumed was her boyfriend—on the phone. Hm, blunt, but quite sharp. Like a dull blade. She may be interesting, should we meet again. Although she's quite easy to figure out. Not much of a challenge. With those thoughts, he headed out, lifting up the collar on his coat and hailing a cab as his thoughts shifted to John Watson. He's certainly more interesting.

After the Sherlock guy left and I finished my phone call, I sighed. I still had a lot of work ahead of me as far as the flat goes and I didn't really care for him. He just acted like he knew everything and that kind of ticked me off. Although, I could say the same for myself. I was being a bit rude, but with everything that's going on, it's understandable. For him though, that just seems like that's the way he acts. I paused in my work and glanced around the flat. The place was a mess, although it was certainly better than it was before I came.

The dampness was bad enough that it got into the walls and ceiling, which was why I was patching it up now. Whole chunks of the place had to be removed and replaced and I still needed to re-tile the bathroom and kitchen, fix the plumbing, refurbish the entire kitchen, install new windows in the living room and the bedroom, as well as either paint, or repaper the walls. That part's up to Mrs. Hudson though. She gets to choose everything, but I get to put it up. At least I'm getting paid. With renewed vigor, I finished patching up this hole and climbed down from the ladder to make sure I did it properly. With a nod, I heard someone walking towards the room and turned to see Mrs. Hudson with a tray of sandwiches and a cup of tea.

"How are you doing, dear? You've been at it for hours."

I gave her a smile. "Well, I've pretty much finished the ceiling and I just need to work on the walls, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. The windows should be here by tomorrow and I just need to know what you wish for me to do about the walls."

"Oh, just do what's best for you. You've done quite a number on this place and it's much better than before. I'm sure whatever choices you pick for the walls will be beautiful."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson. I was actually thinking of painting them a light shade of blue in the kitchen, dark green in the bedroom, and an off-white in here. Does that sound okay? You're the landlady, after all."

She gave me a smile. "My dear, that's perfect. I brought you some lunch as well. Although, it's well after noon at this point."

"That's fine Mr. Hudson. Thank you. I could have gotten something myself though. You didn't have to go out of your way."

"No, no. It's fine. It's the least I can do since you're fixing up the place for so little."

I took the tray from her and set it on my lap as I sat on a short stool.

"It should be all finished in a few days though. Although, depending on how long it takes for the kitchen appliances to get here, it may take a bit longer."

"That's fine." She waved off. "I'm sure the boys won't mind a bit of noise."

I paused mid-bite. "'Boys'? As in two? You only mentioned Sherlock."

"Yes, well, he seemed to have found a flat mate. Dr. John Watson. Such a nice fellow. I'm surprised you didn't hear them come up."

I shrugged, taking a sip of my tea. "Probably just too absorbed in my work."

She nodded and gave me a curious look. "You do get that way. Would you like to go up and meet them? You might want to get acquainted with them since you'll be here the next few days. That way they can help you."

"I don't need help, Mrs. Hudson."

She gave me a concerned glance and I sighed, getting up and handing her the empty tray as I carried my cup and saucer.

"I suppose I could introduce myself though, so they don't think I'm trying to break in or anything."

She smiled. "That's good, deary. Come along. I'll introduce you to them."

I followed her, with my tea, up the stairs and into 221B where I was met with a bunch of clutter scattered around the room. I wrinkled my nose up in distaste, but quickly dropped it and sipped at my tea as I glanced at the two men in the flat.

The one, was the man I had met earlier; Sherlock Holmes. The other though, was a shorter man who sat in a chair holding a cane. How odd. Him being injured but wanting a flat upstairs. Unless it's not a physical injury, but who am I to tell. Sherlock quickly took notice of me and Mrs. Hudson, when she announced her arrival.

"What do you think then, Dr. Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms."

I smirked in my tea as to what she was insinuating.

"Of course we'll be needing two." He said, a bit confused.

"Oh, don't worry, there's all sorts 'round here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones." She quickly stopped whispering and gave me a glance with a smile attached. "No offense though, Jess."

I shook my head. "None taken, Mrs. Hudson."

John and Sherlock both gave us a look of confusion.

"Ah, this is Jess Huttner. She'll be working on the flat downstairs for a while and I expect you two to help her out should she need it. You too, Sherlock."

John got up and took a step forward, as Sherlock scoffed and Mrs. Hudson moved into the kitchen. Holding out his hand, John gave me a small smile.

"Nice to meet you, Jess. I'm Dr. John Watson."

I shook his hand. "As Mrs. Hudson said, Jess Huttner."

"Um, sorry but, what did Mrs. Hudson mean earlier?"

"Hm? I assume she thought you two were gay." I said, taking another sip of the drink in my hand.

"No! Not that!… I meant, when she spoke to you."

"Oh. I'm bi."

He went a few shades paler and I ignored him, taking more pleasure in Sherlock's surprised face.

"U-Um, well—I see. T-That's good. I-I mean… right. I'm just going to shut up now." John put a hand to his head and returned to his seat.

"That might be best, John." Sherlock replied, having quickly gotten over his shock.

I scoffed. "Says you. You were in just as much shock as he was."

He glared at me and I ignored him, while John went to try and diffuse the situation.

"I looked you up on the internet last night, Sherlock."

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock said, focusing his attention on John.

"Found your website, The Science of Deduction."

"What did you think?"

He seems almost proud. Pft.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airplane pilot by his left thumb?"

"Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits on your mobile phone." He looked towards me with a smirk, obviously showing off. "I can tell a lot about you as well, Ms. Huttner."

"Is that so?" I said calmly. I personally didn't care what he could figure out about me. I'm pretty much an open book and nothing he could say would really surprise me. Nothing about myself was hidden.

"I can tell you're still in your rebellious phase and have a tattoo just below your neck." He gestured to his own neck and I waited as he went on. "You're sharing a flat with your lover and are searching for a better paying job while you fix up 221C. You're a painter, which is probably why your parents most likely disowned you, since they wanted you to be a lawyer like your father. And possibly also for the fact that you're bisexual. Your hair is short, but you kept the long pony tail in the back because someone close to you wanted you to have long hair, either your mother or you lover. And it is also very likely that you have ADHD or some form of it as well as the fact that you're currently in a depression and haven't eaten much lately."

"Is that all?" I said boredly, setting my tea cup down on the table.

He seemed surprised that his analysis had no reaction from me, and also a bit disappointed.

"…Yes."

"Good, because you're wrong."

He raised a brow. "Wrong? About what?"

"A good lot of it, actually."

"Really?"

Even John seemed a bit surprised.

I nodded. "Yup. For one thing, I don't have ADHD. I have dyslexia. I'm not in a rebellious phase, I just didn't change my look after it. And while I do have a tattoo below my neck, I also have one on my back and arm." I announced, lifting my sleeve to show a simple tattoo of an 'X' on my upper arm with two black bands wrapping around my arm underneath it. "I do share my flat, but it's not with my lover, it's with my girlfriend. I prefer you don't use that term, as it's degrading and makes her seem like a sex object. My parents did disown me, but it was only after I left the states and it wasn't because I wanted to become a painter, it was because I didn't want to become a lawyer."

"It's the same thing."

"No. It's not. And as far as being bisexual, they don't know about it. My hair was just a style that I picked up and thought I'd like and, while I do paint as a hobby, I am actually a novelist and am currently between jobs at the moment until I am ready to start a new book. The only reason I haven't been eating much lately is because I am working on the flat and easily fall into my work, thus forgetting the time and missing meals. Not because of depression. Did I miss anything?"

John had a grin on his face and Sherlock looked pretty upset, but it was true. While he had gotten the gist of things right, it was the small details he had missed. Which is odd, because, as I said before, I am pretty easy to read. Maybe that's why he screwed up. I was so easy to read that he begun to fabricate mystery into my life without realizing it. Everything he said about me before sounded like a dramatic soap opera.

"So you write novels?" John asked, and I turned to him.

"Yeah. I go under a pseudonym though. Michael Doyle."

John snapped his fingers. "'Secret of the Beasts'!"

"Yup. Also did 'Silent Detective' and 'The Abomination'. I'm surprised people even like the stuff."

"What are you talking about?! You works are amazing!"

I shrugged nonchalantly. I personally don't think they are that great, but people have their own opinions. Just then, Mrs. Hudson walked out from the kitchen holding a newspaper.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought they'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same."

"Four." Sherlock said as he moved the curtain to look down onto the street below. "There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time."

I didn't quite know what was going on, but from what I remember from Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock is in the police business. Must be a case or something then. I best be on my way though. I got a lot of work ahead of me.

"Mrs. Hudson?" I called out to catch her attention. "I'll be heading back on down. I want to try and finish the walls in the bedroom today."

She nodded. "Oh yes. Best be on your way then. Remember to lock up before you leave."

I gave a short wave and nodded at John as I headed out and passed a man on the stairs. It didn't take long though, before the man left and not far behind him, Sherlock went as well. The odd thing was, Sherlock stopped just before leaving and turned around, sneaking back up to the flat. I shook my head and went back to getting my stuff ready to do the walls. Next thing I know, Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Hudson all come down the stairs.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out." John called.

"Both of you?"

Sherlock, from what I could see from the doorway of 221C, had stopped and turned around. "Impossible suicides? Four of them? No point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!"

I rolled my eyes as Sherlock grabbed Mrs. Hudson by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent." Mrs. Hudson mildly scolded.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!"

With that, the two of them left and I walked out of the room behind Mrs. Hudson, holding a container of plaster that I was in the process of mixing.

"He always do that? Pop off all excited?"

She nodded. "Yes. That's Sherlock for you. He really likes those cases. The really tough ones."

"Huh. Well, off I go. Got to get that wall all plastered up."

"Have fun dear."

I chuckled. "Ha. Hard to have fun fixing a wall, but I'll try Mrs. Hudson."

A few days later, one could find me sighing in exhaustion as I pulled my keys out of my pocket and put them in the lock for my flat. Mrs. Hudson had insisted that I head home and come back tomorrow to finish up the walls and re-tiling, and she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I had just stopped by a take-out place to get some dinner since my girlfriend should have eaten already, and I was just setting my food down when I heard scuffling coming from our bedroom.

I shook my head, blowing it off as her trying to do late night yoga again between study sessions and sat down to eat. I got my fork maybe a few centimeters from my mouth, when I heard something that most definitely did not sound like late night yoga.

"Angel?" I called out loud enough that she should be able to hear me.

Now, normally I would've told her I was home already, but she told me yesterday that she would be staying up late today to study for upcoming exams. So I expected her to be studying already but, judging by the groans, she was not studying. Every step I took seemed to cause another piece of my heart to crack and fall off. I knew what was going on before I even reached out for the door handle. Angel, my Angel, was cheating on me.

I opened the door to find her sprawled out on the bed with a man hovering over her. Almost immediately, his eyes caught mine and he stopped, alerting her to me as well. She shoved the man off her a bit and rolled her eyes.

"Great. We got caught."

I didn't know what to say. My mind, having never been this blank before, seemed to be over processing everything. The sweat on their bodies, the muscles in the man's back, the crinkles of the sheets and blankets on the ground, the smell of sex. Everything seemed to be amplified ten fold and I suddenly felt my heart plummeting into my stomach as I turned and left the room.

My vision was tunneled and my breathing ragged as my brain began working again and firing questions at me over and over. Why? What did I do? I thought we were fine. Was I not enough for her? Just…what did I do wrong? I love her, don't I? Is that it? She doesn't love me? Did she ever love me?

"Jess." Her voice echoed in my ears and I looked up from my feet, where I had been staring for the past ten minutes.

She was dressed now, at least partially. She was wearing my dark blue robe to cover herself and I felt disgusted knowing that she was wearing something of mine right after what she was doing.

"How long?"

She sighed and dropped her head a bit. "I've been meeting up with Chris for a little over a month. Don't know why you're so surprised."

My heart clenched as another piece fell off.

"'Why'?"

"Yeah. What with you being so damn smart and all."

I grit my teeth and clenched my fists in anger and frustration. "I loved you."

"I did too, Jess. I just needed something more, you know?"

"Something I didn't have." I muttered, hands balling into fists. My anger was coming up now and with Angel's temper also rising, I doubted I'd be leaving without getting hit at least once.

"Hey man. Calm down. Get over it, will you?" Chris said, having come out of the bedroom finally, zipping up his pants.

"Get over it?"

"Yeah. It's your own fault for not takin' care of her. Heh, after all, a woman can't give another woman this kind of pleasure." He smirked, but it was quickly gone when my fist collided with his face.

"Chris!" Angel shouted, as Chris fell to the floor in shock. "Get out of my flat, Jess! Get out!" She shouted, both of us having finally lost it.

Chris got up, a hand to his swelling jaw. "The hell, man!"

I ignored him and turned to Angel "Get out?! I pay the bills!"

"But I own it!" She shouted in return.

Suddenly, I was knocked back by Chris, who had gotten up off the floor and punched me hard across the jaw. As I fell back into the kitchen, Chris straddled me and began to try and attack me further, but I struggled and managed to flip our positions for a moment, the whole while, Angel calling both our names in an attempt to stop our brawl. Finally, she managed to grab a hold of Chris and pull him off me, as he wiped the blood from his nose.

"Get out, Jess! Or I'll call the police!"

I sat up, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. "Fine! The hell with you then!"

With that, the door was slammed shut as I walked out and I closed my eyes painfully, heading out onto the street. I didn't really have anywhere to go. Angel had been my only real friend and, since I had graduated early, I didn't have any school friends I could stay with. The only person I even knew around here would be Mrs. Hudson. Getting up, I checked my pockets to see if I had enough cash to hail a cab and managed to grab one to drive me over to Baker Street. Let's hope she'll let me in. I have nowhere else to go.

I could feel my body throbbing with every block and when I finally did arrive, I only hoped Mrs. Hudson would be willing to let me stay here for a while. I knocked on the front door and waited, hearing Mrs. Hudson call out from inside.

"Hold on a minute!"

I waited and soon, the door opened and she looked out at me with a smile, only to grow concerned when she saw what kind of shape I was in.

"Oh dear. Come inside, Jess. I'll make you a nice cuppa."

I nodded weakly and followed her inside her flat, silent as she made me some tea.

"Do you want some ice for you face?"

I nodded and she went to the icebox and pulled out a bag of frozen peas, handing them to me to put on my bruised cheek. She then poured some tea into a couple of cups and sat down next to me, laying a comforting hand on my right leg.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I swallowed thickly. "My girlfriend broke up with me."

She squeezed my leg. "It's alright, Jess. Every woman gets upset at times. It's okay."

I shook my head. "It's not okay, Mrs. Hudson! I don't have anywhere to go… I pay for the bills, but it's still her place and she kicked me out! Threatened to call the police on me! She was with a guy! They were… I walked in when they were…"

I immediately grit my teeth as a single tear fell down my face. Mrs. Hudson pulled me into a hug, petting my head as though she was my own mother and even then, my mother never treated me like this. After a while, I pulled away from her and gave her a small smile.

"Sorry Mrs. Hudson. I didn't mean to throw all my problems out on you."

She smiled in return. "It's fine, dear. Now, what's this about not having a place to stay?"

"Right… Actually, I was hoping you could help me with that."

"Jess, you can stay here as long as you need to. Free of charge." She said with a wink.

"I-I can't do that!"

"Don't bother arguing, Jess. You've been fixing up that basement flat for a while now, and for half the price too. The least I could do would be let you stay in it."

"But free of charge? I can't do that!"

"Nonsense. How about this, you can stay free of charge but the moment you find a job, I'll start charging you rent. Hm? Does that work for you?"

I looked down at the cup of tea in my hands thinking for a moment before nodding. "Alright, Mrs. Hudson. I can live with that."

She nodded, just as there were more knocks on the front door.

"Oh dear. I wonder who it is now."

I stood up. "Do you want me to get it?"

"If you would, dear. I need to clean up a bit anyway."

I nodded and walked over to the front door, opening it to find a group of police officers standing outside; all of which flinched upon sight of me. What's going on? I hope they're not here for me.

"Can I, uh, help you?"

One of them stepped forward and I recognized him as the man who came earlier to speak with Sherlock.

"Yes, actually. We need access to Sherlock's flat. Is Mrs. Hudson there?"

"Well, yeah, but she's busy and Sherlock isn't here. So you can't just break into his flat, last time I checked."

He frowned. "Actually, we can. I'm from Scotland Yard." He flashed his badge, probably expecting me to give in right away, but I didn't.

"And? You still need a warrant unless you have the land lady's or home owner's permission."

He grit his teeth in frustration and shouted into the flat. "Mrs. Hudson!"

I rolled my eyes, replacing the bag of peas to my bruised cheek as Mrs. Hudson scrambled to join me in the doorway.

"Yes? Oh, how are you Lestrade? Is something the matter? Sherlock's not home right now."

"He wants permission to go in Sherlock's flat." I said, looking down at the woman. "I already told him he needs a warrant, but if you let him then he can basically go through anything that's lying out. Although, he would have to explain why he is doing the search as well. You have the right to refuse though, then they have to leave until they come back with a warrant."

I looked back up at him as he stared at me in surprise and annoyance.

"You—Who are you?"

"Jess Huttner. I went to law school and graduated a year early, if that's what you're actually wondering." I said boredly.

His eyes widened as he heard my last name, but Mrs. Hudson cut him off before he could say anything about it.

"So what's this about?"

"Oh, uh, we were actually going to do a drugs bust on him." Lestrade said, rubbing the back of his neck and giving me weary glances. "I also have reason to believe that he may or may not have taken some evidence from our most recent case."

"In other words, nothing definite, Mrs. Hudson. It's your decision though. I'm going to see what I can grab from your storage room as far as sleeping arrangements go."

I gave her a small smile and popped back down the hall until I came across the storage room where, as Mrs. Hudson had mentioned to me before, everything her previous tenants left behind was at. The moment I opened the door though, I discovered that there wasn't a whole lot to work with. I pulled out a couple of bar stools and chairs that I could use and then moved on to a single couch that was propped up against the adjacent wall.

It was not too bad as far as dirt goes, and once I had it dragged out into the hall, I smiled to myself. It was a nice, simple grey couch and the cushions weren't torn or anything, so it would work and it gave me something to sleep on for the next couple of days until I could purchase a bed. With a heave ho, I managed to get it into 221C along with my chairs and stools, before I collapsed on it with a groan. I really wanted to just stay there and fall asleep, but I could hear the police officers upstairs and I was worried about how Mrs. Hudson was taking it.

Getting off my comfortable couch, I snatched my melting peas and stuck them in the icebox for now, before going to hurry up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson stood in the doorway of 221B shaking a bit as she watched the officers begin going through Sherlock's things. Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, I gave her a small smile, careful of my aching face.

"Mrs. Hudson? Why don't you go wait for Sherlock downstairs? I'll keep an eye on the officers to make sure they aren't doing anything out of their jurisdiction."

"Alright, deary. I'll bring the boys up as soon as they get here."

I nodded and turned when I heard a clatter from the kitchen. Frowning, I walked over and began yelling at the officer. "Hey! Any damages and I'll be suing you guys for the cost!"

The officer glared at me and was about to yell back, but Lestrade cut him off before he could.

"Do as she says, boys! I'd rather not have to deal with a lawsuit over something like this."

They grumbled, but were more careful about what they were messing with and I sat down across from Lestrade with a sigh.

"So a drugs bust?" I muttered. "Didn't see Sherlock as the type, but then again, I suppose anyone could be."

"Yeah, well… How do you know him?" Lestrade asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I don't. I've been working for Mrs. Hudson and fixing up the basement flat. The only reason I'm even here now is because she offered to let me stay there since I don't have a place to stay anymore."

"Domestic?" He questioned, with a raised brow.

I winced. "You could say that."

Just then, I heard voices downstairs. I glanced at the door and pulled a hand through my hair.

"Sherlock's home." I muttered.

"How do you know?"

I held up a three fingers and began counting down as steps were suddenly heard pounding up the stairs. Sherlock, as I predicted, was now standing in the doorway looking a bit out of breath. Must have been running around before he got here. I wonder how John's doing, what with his supposed injury.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock growled, all attention on Lestrade.

"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid."

I noticed John and Mrs. Hudson following up behind him as Sherlock and Lestrade went on.

"You can't just break into my flat."

"You can't withhold evidence… and I didn't break in."

"He's right about that." I piped in, catching Sherlock's and John's attention. "According to the law, he can't legally break in without the land lady or your permission. Mrs. Hudson agreed to let him in."

Sherlock glared at me as I stood from my seat and brushed myself off.

"Well, what do you call this then?" He questioned with a snarl and I shrugged.

"He said it was a drugs bust. The only reason I'm up here is because I was keeping an eye on them to make sure they didn't break any laws."

"Seriously?" John questioned. "This guy—a junkie? Have you met him?"

"John." Sherlock said, walking over next to John and looking displeased.

Ah, so he has done drugs before. Lestrade must've caught him a few times and that's how he knows.

"You could probably search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

"John, you probably want to shut up now."

John turned his head to Sherlock in disbelief and anger. "But come on… no…"

"What?"

"You—"

"Shut up!" Sherlock snapped at him and I sighed, patting John on the shoulder as Sherlock went off to snap at the officers.

"It's alright John. We all have domestics sooner or later."

John gave me a look and winced when he caught sight of my face. "Is that what happened to you?"

"…You could say that." I said, before walking downstairs with Mrs. Hudson in tow. "Looks like tonight's going to be a bit long. Will you be okay with all the noise, Mrs. Hudson?"

She nodded. "Yes. It's never very quiet around here. I like to think I'm used to it by now."

Just then, the doorbell went off and I sighed once more. "I'll get it Mrs. Hudson."

"No need. You pop off to bed now. It's been a rough day for you I'm sure."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson, but I think I'll take a bit of a walk first. To get my mind off things."

"Whatever works for you, dear." She said, answering the door where a cabbie stood and told her something.

Ignoring the two of them, I started to head out the door, before turning back and walking back inside. Rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I gave Mrs. Hudson a small smile.

"Could I, uh, borrow some money for the cab and a drink or two? I promise to pay you back."

She smiled back, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wallet before giving me some money. "Here you go. Just don't be too late. Breakfast is at ten o'clock sharp."

I nodded and headed out with a thanks, bumping into the cabbie accidentally.

"Oh, sorry about that. You okay?"

He seemed a bit surprised, but gave me a small smile as well. "I'll be fine. Enjoy your night."

I nodded. "Yeah. You too."

He tipped his hat and pulled out a strangely pink phone. Shaking it out of my thoughts, I hailed another cab and was off towards my favorite place to relax. The bar wasn't far from Baker Street, but it was a bit too close to Angel's place and my thoughts roamed to her as I sipped at my whiskey. I don't know why I even went out with her anymore.

With the numerous drinks starting to get to me, I headed home a few hours later and caught another cab back to Baker Street. Something must have been going on too, since there were a ton of police cars going the opposite direction. Leaning forward to catch the cabbie's attention, I pointed out the window as another police car passed.

"You know what's goin' on?" I muttered, trying to appear as sober as possible.

The cabbie shrugged. "No clue. Could be they found that serial killer that's been on the loose. He already has four victims from what I heard. I wouldn't be surprised if that detective guy caught him already."

"Detective guy?" I questioned as we pulled up in front of Baker Street.

"Yeah. That Sherlock Holmes fellow. He's been solvin' cases left and right, I hear."

I nodded and paid the man, before stumbling out of the cab and heading up the short amount of stairs to the door. I started looking for my key and frowned as I went through my pockets. Finding it, I had a difficult time getting it into the lock before I finally opened the door, not noticing another cab pulling up behind me.

"Jess?"

I turned around and wobbled for a minute before my eyes focused on John and Sherlock coming up behind me. Pointing at Sherlock, I smiled a bit.

"Heh, I heard about you."

He raised a brow. "Did you now?"

I nodded, placing a hand on the door frame to steady myself. "Yup. The cabbie man said you were solving the serial killer case. Making all them police drive around with their sirens."

I started to slide down the wall, but John came over and held me up.

"Whoa there. You okay, Jess?"

I groaned, placing a hand to my head. "The sirens are too loud."

He sighed and straightened me up a bit, slinging my arm across his shoulders. "Well, then. You're obviously drunk. Tell me your address so I can take you home."

"2." I mumbled.

"2?"

"221C… Baker Street."

John shook his head. "No, Jess. That's the flat you're fixing up. Where do you live?"

"Nowhere." I said. "I pay the bills… but she kicked me out."

John turned to Sherlock. "Do have any idea what she's going on about?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, stepping past us as he removed his coat and hung it on the coat rack.

"Isn't it obvious? She had a domestic. Her lover kicked her out. Mrs. Hudson is most likely letting her stay in 221C for now. Really, John, it's basic deduction."

John rolled his eyes as well, and made his way to my flat.

"Jess. I need the keys."

I fumbled, but handed him the keys before he opened the door and brought me in. He paused and looked around, but frowned at the lack of furniture and torn up kitchen tiling.

"You're living here?"

I nodded. "For now…" Suddenly, I stood up straight and pointed at the couch, no longer being held up by John. "To the couch!"

With that, I stumbled over and promptly fell face first onto the couch and was out like a light. John shook his head with a chuckle before disappearing and returning with a blanket, which he used to cover me up.

"Goodnight, Jess." He replied, closing the door on his way out, and leaving me to sleep fitfully on the couch. Angel…