Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.
A/N: Okay I know I had already posted this story, but I didn't like where it was going, so I decided to restart. Hope you enjoy.
John Watson, a short, blonde soldier, was writing his blog when a cab pulled up in front of the building. He watched to see a teenaged girl get out and go to the trunk, pulling a couple suitcases out, heading toward the door. ran out the front door to help the girl get her things inside. John, intrigued, then turned toward his flatmate, who was sitting in his chair with his legs up to his chest, mumbling nonsensical things to himself. "Sherlock. I think someone is moving into the basement flat." The tall, lanky man extracted himself from the chair and walked toward the window to see a girl taking the last of the boxes, that seemed to hold electronics, toward the door.
She was on the short side, most likely due to being malnourished at some point in life. She had short black hair, most likely so it doesn't get in the way. He could tell by the way she walked that she almost never wore anything but trousers or shorts. She had several necklaces that she never took off, sentimental value, dull. Then on her fingers were a ring for each finger, possibly a new trend or obsession of her own. Her boots were brown, water- proof, and made for hiking. Possibly an outdoors woman, boring. Though with the box of electronics, it pointed toward reclusive gamer, also dull. Possibly a writer, lost in her own world, by the way she was muttering to herself, as if she was talking to someone other than herself, possible schizophrenia. She was a teenager, obviously living alone, meaning dead or estranged family. The way the box favored her left arm, she was ambidextrous in all but writing, which she was right handed. Lightly toned muscles in arms and legs showed some sort of training, most likely kickboxing. She was a night owl, judging by the fact that she looked like she been up since late the last day and about to fall asleep. He wasn't able to deduce anymore, because she got everything in the building. "It seems you are correct John. I wonder if she will be entertaining..." He said the last bit before turning from the window and going back to his original position on his chair. He highly doubted that she would be.
Aaron Caldwell was an 18 year old girl who kept to herself. Not that she hadn't tried to make friends, but people seemed to dislike her for some reason. They thought she was a freak, because she liked the dark, had an obsession with the horsemen Death, and hung out in graveyards. She was an orphan whose parents left quite a bit of money, but had no other family, so she lived in a group home until she hit majority and could get into her inheritance. Not that she needed much. She got the basics, T.V., bed, couch, kitchen stuff, laptop. Then she splurged and got the one game she had always wanted to play, but never got a chance... World of Warcraft. She put it all in storage, besides the laptop and game, while she stayed in a hotel, searching for a flat. She finally lucked out with a basement flat in London that Mrs. Hudson was desperate to to rent out.
She knew of the two flatmates in the upstairs flat, and was a little wary of them. Mrs. Hudson had said they were nice boys, but Aaron had read their blogs, and at least Sherlock Holmes seemed arrogant, even if he was indeed brilliant. She sat down on her couch, resting for a few moments, before Mrs. Hudson came in and smiled at her.
"Aaron I want to take you upstairs to meet the boys. What do you say?" She asked. Aaron smiled a little nervously, but nodded her consent. The moment she got on the stairs she could hear someone playing a violin. It was beautiful, and nothing she had ever heard. It was soft and elegant, very unlike her own cornet. They walked slowly and walked through the door without knocking.
"Hello boys!" Mrs. Hudson said pleasantly and the violin stopped. Aaron walked in to see a tall man standing in front of the window holding a violin and another man sitting in a armchair reading a newspaper. Aaron guessed that the short man was John and the tall one with the violin was Sherlock. At first they looked to Mrs. Hudson, then their eyes flicked to her, making her fidget. Especially the piercing gaze of Mr. Holmes. She knew for a fact he was deducing her. So she did the same. Mrs. Hudson's eyes followed theirs and she smiled at Aaron, beckoning her forward.
"Ah! Boys, I wanted you to meet the new tenant of 221C, Aaron Caldwell. Aaron this is John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, the tenants of 221B." She said with gusto that made Aaron smile. Said girl spoke to first.
"It's a pleasure, gentleman."She said, waving slightly. John smiled at her and waved back.
"Same to you, Miss." They both looked at Sherlock, but he didn't say anything, just stared at her. She stared back, a blank and dead look on her face, as if she was tuning the rest of the world out. Defense mechanism, Sherlock mused. When she is in a uncomfortable situation, she shuts herself into her own mind, much like Sherlock did with his mind palace. Did she have something similar? Probably, but she probably doesn't delete information from hers like he does. Sherlock broke out of his trance to see John looking at him with bated breath. Probably expecting him to throw his deductions out at her, but he wouldn't. Especially since she was barely there anyway.
He instead smiled a bit, and bowed slightly. "Welcome to 221 Baker Street, Miss Caldwell." That broke the girl out of her trance and made her narrow her eyes as he straightened. Ah. She had expected his deductions, that being why she closed off. She must have read about them. Or at least him. She stared at him for a moment, before giving a small smile.
"You can just call me Aaron." She said before the smile was gone and soon after so was she as she fled down to the dark basement, most likely for some sleep.
A/N: Okay I like this one a lot better. I hope you guys like it. Please review!