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4 years later…

"Are you sure you don't need a hand taking the bags inside, love?" The clearly native London policeman asked.

We'd pulled up on a street, just a regular street in London. Central London to be specific. It was quite a change, and in alternative surcumstances I'm sure the idea of moving to such a sought after place to live would have me excited, jumping up the front steps of my new building to have a look around. But instead that familiar nothingness had settled in again.

"No, I'm fine thank you." I smiled weakly at him. Police Officers were the only people I didn't have to hide myself around. They knew. The ones I came in contact with had been told my story. I didn't have to slap on a smile, hide my true feels, it was oddly comfortable being able to go numb without anyone asking questions.

"You have the card?" He asked, it almost sounding patronising, like a parent talking to a young child. I just nodded, knowing the card with 'Detective Inspector Lestrade's' number on was in my coat pocket. "Any trouble call, or the men upstairs could help you. They're with us, any problems and go to them until we get here, ok?" I nodded again, my voice losing itself for the millionth time that day. "Ok, well it looks like you're all set."

"It does." I agreed, not entirely listening to the young policeman.

"You really don't want help with your bags?" He asked one final time before handing my new keys over. I looked down at my bags. One suitcase and an over shoulder holdall was all I had. All the worldly possessions I'd owned were gone, all I had now was my clothes, shoes and a picture of my real parents the police had allowed me to keep.

"Honestly I'm fine. Thank you for everything." I smiled, genuinely grateful to for the nice Policeman, even if he did share the same look each of the others had given me. The look as if they thought I was a lost child or an injured bird, that shallow sympathy that I hated.

"No problems. Remember, just ring if you need something, anything and we'll be right here." He winked and grinned reassuringly before turning and getting back into the unmarked police car. I watched the car disappear around the corner before picking up my bags and pulling them up the stairs, trying to keep my hands steady as I unlocked the door. Only to have it swing open as soon as I put the key in.

"Ah!" An older women shouted in an odd sort of familiar welcome. "You must be Miss Bennett." She greeted with a knowing wink. God, if this is as subtle as she gets I'm in trouble.

"Yes, I'm Meghan, it's lovely to meet you..?" I started. God, what is her name!?

"Mrs Hudson, dear." She smiled, it was hard not feeling welcomed by her. "Do come inside, the weather's awful!" She took my bags without question and pulled them into the hallway. I followed, retrieving my keys and shutting out the weather behind me.

"Now, Gregory has already explained, almost everything, other than the reason you're under protection." She dropped my bags and puffed out a breath. I already felt a little guilty for letting her carry them. "But I won't pry, dear! It's none of my business, but at the same time you're more than welcome to talk to me about it. I could make us some tea and you can fill me in. But only if you want to, mind you!" She looked at me and smiled.

"Oh look at me! I'm rambling! You probably want to see your flat!" She shook her head and gestured over her shoulder as she started down the hall again. Straight to a door that simply read 'C'.

"We've had men in here all week, decorating the place for you. It looks quite lovely actually, and all free! I didn't have to spend a penny!" She giggled a little, a giggle no woman her age should be able to get away with, but her bubbly character and warm smile meant she could.

"I'd been meaning to do it up for ages, but when Gregory told me he'd get it done, free of charge I practically jumped at the chance." She unlocked the door and swung it open. Letting me walk in first.

I looked around and was pleasantly surprised. It was a small, and dark but with enough light fittings around to keep it feeling warm. That and the beautiful fireplace, the chimney was just exposed brickwork, but the rest of the room was decorated with a blue and dark purple wallpaper, a sort of repeated pattern. It wasn't filled with gleaming new ikea furniture, never before used sofas or modern art. It was decorated like a real home. An old worn arm chair, a sofa that looked like it belonged in the 80's with it's 'state of the art' design and scattered floral pillows. A large, clock above the fire, a navy blue shaggy carpet and a slightly old TV. Books and trinkets on the shelves that looked like they'd been passed down, used more often than not and still sentimental. It was lovely. Really truly lovely. I felt at home already, which both comforted and shocked me. Nothing in this flat was familiar, none of it looked like anything I'd owned before, but it felt like it was home.

"They've done a lovely job." Mrs Hudson sighed.

"Who's things are these, Mrs Hudson?" I asked, picking up a little stone carved Buddha from one of the shelves.

"Well, Gregory said that they'd bought most of it from charity shops, second hand furniture shops. Some of it's new of course, but it's all yours now." She smiled up at me as I looked around again. "You do like it, don't you?" she sounded worried, as if it was her fault whether I did or not.

"I love it, Mrs Hudson. Thank you."

"Oh," She started, a little blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I didn't really do a thing."

"But you've welcomed me here without knowing what trouble I might bring and that is more than enough." I smiled again.

"Oh, you can't possibly bring any more trouble than the couple upstairs do, dear!" I didn't want to tell her that I doubted they were currently being threatened by 'The Butcher', England's most notorious serial killer in over 40 years.

"I just do hope you like the violin…" She said cryptically as she lead me through the rest of the flat.

Flashback 1 hour…

I sat, staring at the man in front of me; D.I Lestrade he'd introduced himself as not 5 minutes ago. The sheer fact I was again sat in a Police station, was intimidating enough, regardless of the fact it was Scotland Yard, of all places. But it was the reason I was here that had my hands shaking in my lap and my heart beat sounding in my ears.

I'd already spent the past 3 days in a safe house, it was more like a jail cell, but they weren't going to it that. One of the officers had brought me here, explaining that I was a high priority witness now. That didn't even sound nice, it was the nicest name they'd come up with, and it still sounded like a death sentence.

"I'm sure you're well aware of the situation, Miss Wells?" The D.I started, leaning back on his desk as I nodded.

"The situation in which the psychopathic serial killer that tried to murder me has escaped from prison?" I asked sarcastically, my voice broke a little. Why I'd said it I have no idea, something inside me was bored of being the victim. "That situation?"

"Yes…that situation." He said slowly, looking at me as if he were afraid I'd gone insane, before seeming to come to the conclusion I was stable for the moment, he continued. "Anyway, we think it's best to put you under protection." He stopped, seeming to think I might want to talk, when I didn't he carried on. "We've decided the best possible place for you to be right now is somewhere completely meaningless to you, no family, no friends, no history. So we're placing you in the City." This time I nodded when he spoke. "It's not a safe house as such, but you'll be living under the same roof as two men I work very closely with, I trust them implicitly. And as I make regular visits to the two of them, it won't seem odd to anyone that I visit the address when I come to check on you."

I nodded. Unable to object or question anything he'd said. I wasn't even sure I could verbalise a thought if I had one at that moment. Now that it had really hit me, my sarcastic front had fizzled away leaving me feeling like a vulnerable child.

"We've already changed your identity. Everything. Your name, your family, where you grew up, what you do, who you know, why you're here. Everything is new and everything that was linkable to Adrienne Well's is now gone. He has no way of knowing where you are." He comforted.

"What's my new name?" I asked, even in this nightmare situation, an odd curiosity inside me wanted to know I at least had a decent new name.

"Meghan Jane Bennett." He confirmed after checking it in a file. It wasn't the best name I'd heard, but it wasn't the worst either. "Your birthday is now on the 12th of the 4th of 1989, we've just switched the month and the day around, same year." He said, explaining it without the patronising tone I found policeman often used. It wouldn't be hard to remember, seeing as my real birthday was the 4th of the 12th.

"You were born and raised in Eastbourne by your parents Jane Moira Bennett and Frank Steven Bennett, your mother's a nurse and your father is a mechanic. You attended St Andrew's, graduating with GCSE's in Science, Math, English, Geography, Art, History and PE." He sighed seeming bored of reading my new life story. "You can have a read through this later, everything you'll need is in here. Passport, Drivers License, Birth Certificate, Debit Cards, a few fake bank statements, junk mail, bills, a phone, things you should keep in the flat, just in case." He didn't finish, I didn't want to know what the 'just in case' was.

"We've kitted out your flat, and placed things around it, little trinkets, photo's, presents, sentimental things too. Just to add to the illusion. But other than that I don't think there's a lot else for now." He smiled, and for once it was just a smile. No dumb sympathy, no forced efforts. Just a simple smile, which I easily returned.

"Thank you, Detective." I stood a little shakily and smiled again.

"Your new Landlady, Mrs Hudson is expecting you, she knows you're under protection, but that's all we've told her. Your upstairs neighbours don't know a thing about you, so it's your choice to tell them or not."

We were already walking down the hall, people watching me with the 'aww, are you being threatened by psycho killer? Oh poor little you. Here, have a biscuit.'.

"Is it safe to tell them?" Not that I was planning on telling anyone.

"If you chose to tell anyone in London, I'd suggest Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Yes."

"Sherlock?" Who names their kid Sherlock? But then, who am I to talk, my names Adrienne. Wait, no it's Meghan.

"Yes, he's quite a character. He's lacking in a few social graces, but his intentions are good."

"That freak's about as welcoming as a swarm of hornets!" A women in the corridor suddenly input as we walked past.

"Thank you, Donovan." Lestrade sighed as he spoke. Clearly she wasn't one for containing her feelings towards Mr Holmes. "That's Sally, I might send her around to check on you every now and then." Wonderful. I already didn't like Sally Donovan and her intruding judgements.

"OK sure." When we were further away he whispered.

"I'll try not to though, she can be a right cow." I looked up at the 'ever professional' D.I Lestrade, he just winked and carried on walking towards the front of the building. We stopped just outside, it was cold and rainy, typical London morning. I pulled my coat tighter around me.

"You really have nothing to worry about Miss Bennett." I almost corrected him, then remembered my new name. "I promise you no harm will come to you under our protection."

He extended his hand, I looked at it for a moment, before taking it and giving it an awkward wobbly shake. He was holding a card, intending for me to take it, which I did, checking it quickly it read 'Detective Inspector Lestrade - Scotland Yard' and a number, I slid it into my pocket.

"Thank you so much, Mr Lestrade."

"Don't mention it, and please call me Greg."

"Will do." I lowered myself into the waiting unmarked police car, an officer already inside.

"I hope you like your new flat!" He said, backing away a little. "Good luck with Sherlock." He said quieter, I'm not even sure I was meant to hear it, but it was too late to ask as we pulled away, heading towards 221 Baker Street.

Flash foward to present...

"Now," Mrs Hudson started as we got to the last room in the flat; the kitchen. The rest of it had been decorated very much the same, the bedroom was sweet and not girly how I'd imagine they'd do it. It was decorated with old movie posters and orangey coloured paint. "this is obviously the kitchen, most of the stuff in here is new. Don't want to end up with some old ladies cooking utensils now, do you?" She winked and walked over to the fridge.

"You've got all the basics, washing machine, cooker, microwave, fridge." She pulled open the door and shrieked when she looked inside.

"Oh Good heavens!" She pressed a hand to her chest and slammed the door shut. Making me jump at her sudden reaction. "I'm so awfully sorry, dear. Don't look, I'll be right back." She smiled sweetly before her brow creased and she stomped (as best an older woman could) back out the flat.

"Sherlock Holmes! What have I told you about using other people's fridges for your experiments!" She shouted as I heard her little feet march up the stairs above.

I didn't hear a reply as I stared at the fridge. What was in there? My curiosity always got the better of me. As I heard Mrs Hudson telling someone off a few levels above, I pulled open the fridge. Only to wish I had never looked.

In the middle of the top shelf sat a jar. Not just a jar, no. This jar was filled with eyeballs. Yes, you heard me. Eyeballs. All floating around in a thick, brownish liquid. I couldn't shut the door as I stared. What if this wasn't Sherlock Holmes' experiment? What if he'd already found me? I didn't have time to panic as I heard voices drawing closer.

"Oh Mrs Hudson, they're only eyeballs!" A deep voice stated with a sigh, as if the sentence was completely normal.

"Yes but they're in our new tenants fridge!" Mrs Hudson sounded exasperated, and not from climbing up and down the stairs. "Are you trying to scare her off?"

"Only if she's a moron." The deep voice muttered as a tall slim figure appeared round the corner. He stopped suddenly, looking directly at me with intense blue eyes. I barely noticed Mrs Hudson follow after him until she'd spoken.

"Sherlock, this is Meghan Bennett. Meghan, this is Sherlock Holmes." She introduced with an apologetic smile.

"It's nice to meet you." I said quietly, still holding the door of the fridge open.

"I'm sure it isn't. The first and so far only thing you know about me is that I conduct experiments which occasionally involve human body parts." He said, almost robotically with a slight frown as he seemed to examine my entire body. "Your dilated pupils and paled skin suggest that you're actually frightened."

His eyes finally came back to meet mine and he frowned again. What? What was I doing wrong?!

"Well, can you blame me? It's not everyday you're welcomed to a new home with a dozen eyeballs in your fridge." I said a little more sarcastically than intended. Mrs Hudson's eyes widened a little but Sherlock just smirked.

"Quite." His eyes bore into me like he was trying to see my very soul. "Who are you?"

"...Meghan Bennett." I answered, surely he'd heard my name.

"No there's something more." His eyebrows creased further. "But what is it..."

"Sherlock, someone's sent us a new case! Something about a woman found dead, covered in odd speckles..." Another voice called from the hallway. "Where are you?!" Sherlock didn't answer as he stared at me.

"Sherlock! You're being rude." Mrs Hudson scalded, probably sensing my discomfort. "Take those eyes and go!" That's a sentence I never thought I'd hear. He stopped staring and stepped forward, reaching around the door he picked up the jar, the eyes bobbling about as he moved it.

Without another word he left the kitchen through one door as another man appeared through the other.

"Mrs Hudson have you seen..oh!" He said, suddenly noticing me by the fridge. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you at first. You must be our new neighbour. I'm John Watson." He smiled welcomingly and stuck his hand out. I shook it without question. This man practically radiated trust.

"I'm Meghan, Meghan Bennett. I've already met your boyfriend." I smiled, but his dropped as he let go of my hand.

"He's not my boyfriend!" He insisted, it seemed I wasn't the only one who'd misread two men living together in a small flat. "He's just my friend. I'm totally 100% not gay."

"Oh, right, sorry about -"

"Not that I have a problem with gay people though!" He said, trying to insure I didn't think he was homophobic. "Just. Not. Gay." He smiled nervously and scratched his head.

"Got it." I nodded and he turned to Mrs Hudson.

"Sherlock?" He said in a questioning tone.

"He's just collected his eyeballs." She said calmly. John just nodded again. What insane asylum had I unknowingly been convicted to here where talk of eyeballs in jars was usual everyday chit chat?!

"He didn't leave them in your fridge again?"

"Nope. He left them in Miss Bennett's." Mrs Hudson said disapprovingly.

John turned to me with a slight grimace.

"I'm so sorry." He said genuinely, as if Sherlock was a crazy child he felt he had to apologise on behalf of. "He's awful at first impressions, we're not murders or anything like that. Sherlock's a Detective and I'm a Doctor." That makes more sense. I'm still not sure as to why a detective has eyeballs in a fridge, but that would explain how Lestrade knew him.

"Oh."

"Yeah." He laughed a little. "So if there's anything...abnormal around here. It's probably just us and our work." He nodded. "I've got to go find Sherlock." He said, already stepping away. "But it was lovely meeting you Miss Bennett. Please stop by if you need anything."

"You too Mr Watson. I will, but only if you call me Meghan." I smiled as he inched towards the door.

"I will if you call me John!" He said before hurrying out after Sherlock.

After a few moments Mrs Hudson turned to me.

"Well, welcome to Baker Street."

I hope you like it!

In case you're wondering the case they'd been sent was 'The Speckled Blonde' A.K.A 'The Speckled Band' I loved that one.

Please review and thanks for reading!