A.n. This is my first story. I hope it goes well... Have a good read:)
Sorry guys! This story has changed a bit from when I first published it. I deleted some scenes and added some new.
Gemcrow
Perla closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to banish the sickly feeling of dread from her stomach. She was tired from a long flight from America. She supposed she wouldn't have been so tired if she had actually have slept during the flight but she was much too nervous.
Paying the taxi driver, she got out of the car. She was standing in front of a cute little café called Speedy's. Right next to it, there was a black door with the address 221B written on the top. Below the address was a gold knocker, slanted to the right. Just the look of the door was foreboding, as if persuading her not to knock.
Perla closed her eyes, took a deep breath and started walking with her tired limbs towards the door. Could she do it? What would he say? Would he let her stay? She dearly hoped so. She had nowhere else to go after what happened... No she would not think of that.
Perla, yet again, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The thud thud thud of the door seemed to echo through the house. Perla waited 1,2,3,4 seconds. Maybe they weren't home. Maybe she should figure out something else. After all- before she could continue her jumbled thoughts of worries, the door opened revealing an elderly lady with a kind face and a beautiful purple shirt and a black skirt.
"Hello dear. How can I help you?" She asked kindly. Oh Perla liked her. She seemed nice.
"Um I th-think so. I-is Sherlock Holmes here? " Perla's voice was shaky. Not good.
"Yes dear. He's right upstairs. Come in," the lady said, ushering her in. "You must be cold. It's freezing out there!" Perla blinked in surprise and glanced outside. Raining-no pouring. Perla looked down at her dress which was drenched. Oops.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't realise I was so wet. I don't want to get your floors wet," Perla apologised feeling guilty already. Great she hadn't even been here five minutes and she was already messing things up.
"Not to worry dear. It's fine. I'm Mrs. Hudson by the way. I'm Sherlock's landlady," Mrs. Hudson said.
By now, they were on the landing at the top of the stairs.
"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson says opening a door. " There's a client here to see you."
Perla stepped in and looked around at the most peculiar apartment she had ever seen. Their were books, there was a skull there was even what she thought was fingers on a table in what appeared to be the kitchen. In the living room, there was two chairs and a couch that looked so inviting to curl up and go to sleep for a million years.
In one of the chairs was a man with short blond hair, a cozy looking sweater which Perla supposed was called a jumper here in England and a computer on his lap. In the other chair was a tall, slim man with a tight purple shirt and black pants- no trousers and very, very curly black hair. This must absolutely positively, inevitably, be her father, Sherlock Holmes.
A.n. Sorry this chapter was short but I promise the next one will be longer:)
By the way, I will upload a new chapter every Sunday!