The girl stood, alone, outside the door, building up her courage. She had waited so long for this to happen. She had saved up, begged her parents for months to let her go.

But, now that she was here...

She shivered as the cold wind whistled around her; nipping at her unprotected ears, which stuck out like Dumbo's. She regretted not bringing her hoodie.

She took a deep breath. It was now or never. She rang the doorbell underneath the sign.

The sign read: 221B Baker Street

John Watson was just putting the finishing touches on his latest update of his blog when he heard the doorbell ring. He closed his laptop, then reached for his cane and walked towards the door.

"John, would you mind getting that?"

"I'm going right now." He replied as he opened the door. He found himself looking at a teenage girl. "Can I help you?"

She nodded. "Um, yeah. Uh, are you Dr. John Watson?"

"Yes."

"Good." She looked relieved and nervous at the same time. "May- may I speak to Sherlock Holmes, please?"

Watson glanced behind him. "I don't think he's available at the moment." In fact, Sherlock was in the middle of mixing random chemicals together in the kitchen. Watson hoped fervently he wouldn't blow something up... again.

"Please? I need to see him." She looked up at him with pleading eyes.

He tore his gaze away. "Oh, alright. Sherlock!"

"Aha! Wait, that's not quite right... What do you want, John? Can't you see I'm in the middle of finding the components of this poison I found on an old dart that the museum was throwing away?"

"Would you just come here?"

"Alright, alright." Sherlock came towards the door, rolling his eyes and wiping his hands on his jeans. "Just when I was about to-" He stopped short when he caught sight of the girl. "John, who is this?"

The girl stepped inside boldly. "My name is Astrid. And I'm here-"

"Wait. Stop, stop, stop!" Sherlock was holding his ears. "Your fake accent is terrible!"

Watson looked confused. "It's fake?"

"Yes! Of course!"

The girl smiled nervously. "Sorry. I just thought you guys would... Anyways, I'm here to-"

"What grade are you in?" Sherlock interrupted again.

"Uh..." Astrid paused for a second. "N- ninth."

"Ah! Just as I thought! Homeschooled."

John raised his eyebrows. "How would you know?"

"Simple. She-"

"May I explain?" The girl interrupted right back. Without waiting for a response, she went right in. "It is a week before summer vacation, yet I'm not in school. I'm trying, and failing, evidently, to blend in with the British accent, but I'm American. Now, why would an American student be in England during school hours? I could be cutting class, but not likely. Homeschooled. Another giveaway was that I hesitated to give my grade because I don't have an official grade if I'm learning from home; therefore I would have to figure out what a normal 14-year-old's grade would be, which I did in my head."

Sherlock's jaw dropped. "How did you-"

"And, yes, I planted those in there just so you could feel a sense of accomplishment when you discovered there was more to me than meets the eye."

John was still confused. "But, that doesn't explain why you're here."

Astrid smiled. "I'm here to apply for an internship with Mr. Holmes here."