I awoke on a couch. The room had two full windows to my right, draped by dark green curtains. My head jerked up, I was no longer on the floor of H&M. How did I get here? What happened? In front of me was a dark wooded coffee table, and a crowded bookshelf took up the back wall. A desk sat between the two windows. It was completely covered with papers, and a single running computer sat open. Two padded armchairs also sat near a short fireplace. I sat up and immediately put a hand to my head. I turned my head to the left to see an open door leading to a staircase, and the wallpaper behind me had an odd black pattern. I sat back forward and saw myself hanging in the mirror above the fireplace. "Oh my god." I said, accidentally aloud, at the sight of the clump of blonde on my head. Running my fingers through my hair, an elderly woman dressed in a maroon skirt came up the stairs. She seemed surprised to see me, as I was surprised to see her. She was carrying a small platter; on it laid three cups of tea and a small cake. "Sherlock," She squeaked, "She's awake." I sat up proper, and expected the creepy blonde haired man to walk in. I was wrong.
A tall man entered the room from what seemed to be the kitchen. "Thank you Ms. Hudson." He said, his voice deep, and flowing like silk. I looked around and then up at him. He had, almost fluffy, black curly hair, and deep cheekbones. He was wearing a tight fitting purple shirt, his eyes a bright blue. Ms. Hudson placed the try down on the coffee tale. "I'll to be going now," she started as she left the room and went down the set of stairs. I stirred awkwardly. "Holmes," The man said, "Sherlock Holmes." I smiled slightly. "Hello Mr. Holmes." I responded in proper manners. "May I ask why I woke up in your-" "My flat. Yes, this is my flat." He interrupted me. How rude. I thought to myself, but didn't voice it. I glanced around again. "It's very," I didn't know what to say. I just woke up in a strange man's apartment. Another man walked in. He was shorter, and was wearing a cream coloured sweater. He had greyish hair that once used to be blonde. He looked around the same age as Sherlock, and was carrying a packet of sugar. Picking up a cup of tea, he sat next to Sherlock. Dumping the sugar into the cup, he spoke, "Nice. It's very nice." He smiled a quick smile aimed toward me. "Doctor John Watson." He reached to shake my hand. Accepting his offer, I smiled a little. "My name is Meredith," I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Meredith Daunchley." Something next to my feet on the floor caught my attention. My coat, my purse, and the blue blazer I was looking at were all folded neatly. I looked at Mr. Watson, then down at the blazer.