Samantha tried to relax into the airplane's hard seat, but she was just too tense and nervous. Was she making the right choice? Was she crazy, like almost everyone else thought she was?
Samantha reflected on her hectic last month in college. In addition to graduating, she had sold her house and her car, packed up all her belongings, and shipped a bunch of boxes across the Pond to Britain. What she couldn't send overseas she stored in rental space back home. Three days after Sherlock's return, she had sent him an email inquiring as to whether Sherlock's offer for her to be his intern still stood. He had agreed to a year-long internship in London, and had even hooked her up with his landlady, who had a flat available downstairs in 221C. She and Mrs. Hudson had emailed a bit, and she seemed like a nice old lady. Samantha really didn't want to move in with Sherlock. For one, he didn't need help with rent, and two, John had scared her into another apartment.
John had gotten a hold of her email address soon after she and Sherlock made their deal, and kept sending her horror stories from living with Sherlock. In Sherlock's absence, he had moved out of 221B, but he wasn't going to be moving back in because of his new fiancée, Mary Morstan. They were set to be married in a few months, and John admonished Samantha to keep Sherlock in line at home. Like that was going to happen. Sherlock would be her superior in just a few days (she was flying in early to get settled in, plus she didn't have anywhere else to go), and she really didn't think her opinions would hold much sway with Sherlock. She wasn't looking forward to the body parts, shooting the wall, or other habits of Sherlock.
On the other hand, Samantha felt she was as prepared as she could be for this internship. She had been working out semi-seriously in college, running a few miles every day and practicing yoga. She hated strength and cardio, but in the line of work she wanted to go into, she didn't have much of a choice. She'd taken a few classes that had field trips to the morgue, and she wasn't afraid of blood or bodies. Heck, she had touched her parents' dead bodies, and it hadn't killed her.
Thoughts and insecurities kept Samantha awake during the night flight, which she really didn't appreciate in the morning. Her eyes were circled and her hair a bit messy as she got off the plane and heaved her two enormous suitcases and big backpack off the baggage carousel. After exchanging all her American money for pounds, Samantha took a cab to her new address, 221C Baker Street.
