Author's Note

Howdy one and all! So this is my first Sherlock Holmes fanfic and I am super excited! This is a plot bunny that has been hopping around in my head for a while and must be set free. So this first "chapter" is just to clarify a few points. First of all, I am going off canon in the fact that I am having Mary Watson live. I was going to stay on canon and have her die, but with the way my story is going that would leave Watson very much alone and I couldn't do that to him. L Also, I will be ignoring certain era-specific social constructs, mainly about men and women lodging together. The story just wouldn't work if I didn't. I'll try to stay historically accurate and canonically accurate for most of the rest. On that note, I am not entirely read up on the chronological order of some of the cases after the Return, so if I skip a case or put it a little out of order, don't skewer me. The story isn't really going to focus on that aspect anywho. Also, the POV will change quite a bit during chapters, and between chapters and there will be some scene repeats as the POV changes. The POV will also sometimes be omniscient. Again, this is to aid in the story telling process. Plus sometimes I just hear the story from certain characters point of view. Because of the way I want the story to go it will work better and flow a lot better. I am a full time student and I work for the university, so I cannot promise weekly updates consistently, especially once my classes start up. Lastly, I don't have a beta so I apologize beforehand for any grammatical errors that I miss, but I shall endeavor to do my best. I love reviews and constructive criticism. However, all flames will be used to make s'mores in my backyard. Hope y'all enjoy!

Chapter 1

Mrs. Hudson

I smiled as I read over the short missive again.

I saw your add today in The Strand and am interested in the lodgings you are offering. I would still like to see the rooms if possible and discuss the rent wanted for them, as well as any other matters that you would wish to discuss. Please respond to the address on the envelope if the rooms are still available.

Sincerely, R.

I could still not quite grasp that after two and a half long years, I was going to be meeting a possible lodger. Though the rent that Mycroft Holmes paid to retain his brother's room was more than sufficient, I found myself lonely very often. On top of that, I was positively sick of cooking for just one person.

I nearly jumped from my seat and ran to the door as the bell rang. As I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of a very tall woman, with jet black hair, which was gathered into a tight bun on the back of her head. She was in her mid to late thirties and was studying me intently with eyes a strange shade of purple. I also noted that even with a thick coat to ward off London's miserably, wet winter air, she was much too skinny and I made a mental note to make sure I fattened her up.

"Mrs. Hudson?" Her voice had a husky quality and while not a whisper, it was softer than normal speaking tones.

"Yes! You must be Miss. Ramsden."

"Yes ma'am, but I have never been fond of formalities. Please call me Rose." I smiled at her words. Yes, we would get along quite well.

Rose

She smiled as I asked her to call me by my Christian name. As we exchanged introductions, we had moved into the hall of the flat. It was immaculately clean, but had a very warm and homey fell to it; the latter of which I was not quite used to, but seemed to crave despite my mental efforts to quell such emotions. I quickly turned my full attentions back to the matronly Mrs. Hudson as she spoke.

"Of course dear. Now let me take your coat and we can go up to the sitting room. You can warm up by the fire, have a cup of tea, and then I'll show you around the flat."

After a cup of tea that drove the chill from my bones, Mrs. Hudson led me up the stairs (seventeen of them actually) and into what would be my room. While some would say it was simply furnished, to me it was a palace, so use was I to so much less. What truly caught my attention though, were two large, glass, French doors I believe they were called, that led onto a small balcony. I stepped out onto it and looked about. It hung out over a small, fenced-in yard. I could see what would be a little kitchen garden in the spring, and a few barren rose bushes. I smiled at the thought of it filled with green in the spring. Life in stark contrast to the world around it.

I walked back into the room with my mind made up. This would be my new home.

"I love the flat Mrs. Hudson, and would like to discuss the particulars with you straight away."

"Of course dear. Let's go back to the sitting room, and discuss it over a cup of tea."

We quickly discussed expectations and the like and when Mrs. Hudson named a price, I was shocked for it to be so low and said as much to her.

"Well dear, it has been about two and half years now but I used to have another lodger here; a Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

I'm sure my eyes widened considerably. I very much enjoyed reading Dr. Watson's tales about him in The Strand, and had read often of his monographs on various odd topics, but had never much paid attention I suppose to the address given in the stories.

"Well, Mr. Holmes died while abroad, and as Dr. Watson had married and no longer living here, I intended to re-let the flat. However, Mr. Holmes's brother, Mycroft Holmes, told me not to re-let it and to leave all of Sherlock's things here as they were, and he continued to pay the rent. I suppose it may be his way of dealing with his brother's death. A tribute to Sherlock of sorts perhaps. At any rate, the rent he pays is more than sufficient, but one does grow quite lonely being alone so often. So, I wrote to Mycroft and informed him that I should like to rent out what use to be Dr. Watson's room and that I would still keep all of Sherlock's possessions and his room exactly as he had left them. I have not heard back from him but I'm sure he will not object."

I nodded my head, digesting what she had told me. My surroundings were making more sense to me; the chemistry set in the window that obviously not been used in some time, the odd books lining most of the shelves, and then the empty shelves and bare desk in the corner that must have once been the doctor's. This also explained why I had not been shown through the door across the sitting room. It must lead to Mr. Holmes room. I found my curiosity slightly piqued about Mrs. Hudson's late boarder. I only knew of him through Dr. Watson's stories and his own monographs.

"Well Mrs. Hudson, when would I be able to move in?"

"As soon as you like, dear."

"Excellent! I would like to bring my things over tomorrow, if that would be alright?"

Inwardly, I smiled sardonically at my use of the word 'things'. All my worldly possessions were contained in a small trunk and one travel bag. The purple dress I was currently wearing, I had purchased only yesterday. Though the shopkeeper had insisted it was the plainest of the latest fashions, it still felt like the greatest of finery to me.

"That would be wonderful! What time should I expect you?"

"Would nine o'clock be too early?"

"Not at all! I'll have breakfast waiting for you."

I walked out of 221B Baker Street, with my heart feeling light for the first time in many years. Despite the long, cold walk to my hotel (I was not used to having the means to afford what I thought of as a luxury like a hansom or a very nice hotel. Mine was in a rather questionable neighborhood and the establishment reflected that quite well.) I found myself surprisingly warm.