"Yes, Harriet I know. Yes, I know what number it is. I'm standing right in front of it right now. Look, I need to go. I can't talk to you and carry all my bags in at the same time. Yes, I'll be careful. Bye." John Watson got off his phone and looked at the door in front of him. The door was black and had the number 221 B on it. He sighed, "Welcome home John Watson." He said to himself. He grabbed his luggage and knocked on the door. He waited a few minutes until it was opened by a woman. "Hello." He said.
"Hello, you must be John Watson. I'm Mrs. Hudson." She said in a friendly voice. She wore a dark purple skirt, with a matching shirt and tights.
"Pleasure to meet you. I would shake your hand, but my hands are kinda full."
"Oh, dear. Please come in." She opened the door wider so he could come in.
"Thanks." He stepped into the building.
"The flat is right up the stairs." She said as she lead him up the flight of stairs that lead him to the flat.
"You're the first to have actually taken an interest in it and rent it since the last owner... left"
"I'm not sure why. The flat seems to be very nice and quaint." He said and indeed it was. It was a large flat, it had a nice open living room area which lead into a simple, but nice kitchen. The flat also had a very dark feeling about it and it also felt like there was a presence that didn't want him there.
"The bed rooms are over in that direction." Mrs. Hudson said as she pointed to the right of the living room. John shook off the feeling and looked over to where she point. "Thank you." He said.
"Is there anything I could get for you? A cuppa tea or some food?"
"A cuppa tea sounds nice, thank you."
"I'll that for you right away."
After she left he explored the new flat. It was very clean, and looked very well taken care of. Not a scratch was to be found until he saw saw the wall behind the couch. He at first though that they were just little nicks in the wallpaper, but as he looked closer he saw that they were six holes in the wall. "What the hell?" He whispered. He reached out his hand and felt the marks. Did someone shoot the wall or something? He thought to himself. He suddenly felt as if someone was watching him from behind and he turned around to see if anyone was there, but no one was. I'm going crazy, and it is just the first 20 minutes here. He heard steps coming up the stairs and Mrs. Hudson emerged from the stairs. "Here is your cuppa tea dear. " She said as she handed it to them.
"Thank you." He took it gratefully, "Who was the original owner of the flat?"
"A man named Sherlock Holmes. He was a strange man, but he was absolutely brilliant. He worked for Scotland yard as a Consulting Detective. He helped solve cases the police couldn't solve. Sherlock was a very lonely man, he didn't have many friends, and he was bitter, barely had any manners However, he could be kind when he wanted to be and was very protective."
"What happened to him?" John asked as he took a sips of tea.
"He commuted suicide. He jumped off the roof of St. Bart's; very tragic. The news was saying that he did it because he was a fake, and that he was so disgraced that he ended his life."
"Do you believe he was fake?"
"No, not at all. I believe that there were other factors involved." She sighed, "I'll leave you alone now, so you can get settled in." She walked over the the stair way, "I do hope you like it here. I can be very nice, and if you give it a chance you might be able to actually call it home." She said, with a tint of sadness before she went down stairs. John listened to the sound of her foot steps descending the stair way and pondered what she had said to him and about Sherlock Holmes.