Jenna first set eyes on 221B Baker Street on a crisp Autumn's afternoon. Everything had seemed so colourful on her journey to the flat: the azure sky, the ruby phone boxes, and even the piles of murky orange and brown leaves swept to the sides of the pavement had fueled her excitement about coming to live in such a beautiful city. She had always loved visiting London and had been raised not too far away from the capital, but the prospect of making it a permanent place to inhabit was exhilarating.

Everything seemed so grand - majestic, even - that she almost forgot her anxiety at meeting her future flatmate. That is, until her cab stopped outside of the door. The already brash wind seemed to stir then, sending a whirl of crunchy brown leaves flying down the road.

A feeling of dread swept over her, seizing hold of her fluttering heart and dragging it up into her throat. She had fretted so much over this moment, after hearing the horror stories about Sherlock, but surely he couldn't be that bad - could he? Mycroft had always been keen to exaggerate; forever a fan of the superlative. It was always the 'worst cup of coffee' or the 'worst meal' he'd ever had. He was a perfectionist, and to him nothing could ever simply be 'good', or even 'okay' for that matter. Why should she heed to his criticisms of his younger brother?

Jenna knocked gently on the black door, stumbled back, and waited. 'How surreal,' she began to think. She had never been able to quite believe that this was happening in the first place, but to finally be here, face to face with what would be her new front door, the situation suddenly seemed a lot more strange. She tried to take a deep breath in, but it caught in her chest and she was deprived, as if her nerves had plunged her into a pool of freezing water.

Luckily, the door swung open and Jenna was greeted by a cheerful older lady dressed in a colourful cardigan. Her honest grin as she enveloped the young woman in a hug melted away the doubt, and Jenna felt a little warmer.

"Hello, dear! You must be Jenna, yes? Mycroft has told me all about you - do come in, it's chilly out there!"

Jenna did as she had been gleefully told, and followed the friendly woman inside and up the steps. She took note of the musty smell and dark wallpaper, on the verge of peeling. It wasn't the newest of buildings, that was clear.

Her companion had reached the top of the stairs now, lingering in front of the entrance to the room ahead. "Now, I'm Mrs Hudson, and I'll be your landlady. Don't worry about your papers and rent and all that nonsense; Mycroft's got it all sorted."

"That's wonderful, thanks ever so much," Jenna smiled, although she noted the anxiety in her own voice. Her eyes flickered to the open doorway, trying to casually scan the contents of the flat. She couldn't see him, and she felt herself grow more uncertain.

"...I hate to seem rude," she murmured, wringing her hands around the handles of her canvas bag in a last-ditch attempt to make them stop shaking, "but - what exactly is Sherlock like? Is he... You know... Okay? To get on with, I mean- I mean, I'm sure he's.. "

Her nervous ramblings earned her a sympathetic smile from the ever-patient Mrs Hudson, who sighed. "He's a lovely young man, if you ask me. I'm sure you'll get on like a house on fire, as long as you don't touch any of his experiments."

Jenna blinked blankly. "...experiments?"

It went unheard, however, as her new landlady had toddled off into the flat, setting down two cups of tea on a grubby table littered with old newspapers.

"There are two cups there. Why are there two cups? Are you joining me?" Jenna shifted nervously at the sound of Sherlock's voice. She hadn't yet entered the room, and felt cringe inducing awkwardness as she gingerly stepped in, raising a solitary hand to greet him and pressing her lips together into a hard-lined smile. "Shit," she thought, "I haven't even said one word to the man and he already thinks I'm an idiot!"

"... And who's this?"

"Oh come Sherlock, you knew that Jenna was coming today. She's the lovely young lady coming to stay with you for a while, we talked about this!"

"Oh. Oh yes." Jenna felt his piercing eyes scanning her person and she squirmed, not quite able to meet his gaze. "No thank you. Not today."

Mrs Hudson pursed her lips, adopting the tone of a mother scolding a son. "Sherlock."

He glared at her for a second, his hooded eyes and loss of smirk betraying him and revealing his tiredness. He tilted back in the dining chair and inhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead. "Thank you, Mrs Hudson, for the tea. If you'll excuse us, I'd like to speak with Miss Nightingale alone."

Mrs Hudson huffed and made her way out, giving Jenna a pat on the shoulder as she left. Whether it was for encouragement or out of pity, Jenna was unsure, but she felt as if she deserved both. He certainly didn't seem to happy to have her there.

"Sit down then, let's get this over and done with."

Jenna hurriedly came and sat in the opposite chair. She felt like this was some sort of job interview. Hell - with so much money at stake, it kind of was.

"I just want to say, it's a pleasure meeting you. I've heard lots about you and I really think-"

"How much is my brother paying you?" Sherlock slumped his elbows onto the busy table, resting his chin in his hands and staring at her with those inquisitive eyes. She was shocked and found herself lost for words for a moment, opting instead to look at the striking features of the man sat in front of her.

"...he told you?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I worked it out. It's not difficult, Mycroft has tried this before. The only difference is, the friend that came before you was good enough not to take anything. So, please do answer my question - how much is my brother paying you?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying." His voice, although rich and commanding before, gained a malicious edge to it, and he continued to glare at his potential new flat mate with unwavering disdain. She broke eye contact, picking at her maroon nail varnish in order to conceal her shaking hands and seem more nonchalant.

"A fair amount." She nibbled at her lip and peeped at him again. His expression remained unchanged.

"I expect a share, then. If you're going to be paid to stay here with me, then the least you can do is to help me put up with it."

Jenna couldn't believe his nerve. Fair enough, she could see why getting paid to live with him could definitely piss him off, but she'd been nothing but polite. He had no right to be so rude, especially when he was ignorant of the cause for her need for the cash.

"I'm sorry, but I need as much as I can get."

He smirked, and broke his gaze for what seemed to be the first time since he'd first locked his cold eyes on her. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What?" She blinked back stinging tears, breathing shakily through her nose. She had never been any good in high-pressure situations, and Sherlock was turning what could have been a pleasant meeting into an interrogation. She focused on calming herself down, but was sure that he had noticed her panic already.

"Are you sure you want me to tell you exactly why you're here?"

Jenna scoffed, but it was cold and shaky. She was almost surprised at how cruel it sounded, but, at the point of crying, she didn't care. "I don't think you could ever even begin to understand-"

"I never said I'd understand your motives. I know them though."

"Well, go on then." Her voice cracked as she felt a a tear spill onto her face. She couldn't believe the mess she had made. She knew she would ruin things. She always did.

"...You're upset. The mention of having less money aggravated you, that's for certain. It's not greed though. Greed wouldn't solicit that response. There's an outside emotional factor which requires cash that you don't quite have at the moment - you're an intern, you can't earn much - and you're desperate enough to come and live with a man you've never met simply for a chance at raising some."

Jenna sniffed. "Yeah, so?"

"I'm not finished yet. You're what, twenty six? So -"

"Twenty seven."

"You're twenty seven. It's very unlikely that you have children or pets, as you're not bringing them to live here. From what Mycroft tells me I'm assuming you're single-"

"What?"

"-and besides, you have no wedding ring so you're not married or recently widowed. That means that I can rule all of those out of the list of possible factors. But if I take into consideration the average age of parents around the time you were born, that places yours in their fifties..."

Jenna froze at the mention of her parents, giving a little gasp as she willed herself not to cry. She hadn't prepared for this. He was not what she was expecting. He was so far from anything that anyone could ever have expected.

His icy blue eyes met her cloudy grey ones once more.

"Your parents. One of your parents is ill."

Jenna nodded, the tears she had previously combatted falling freely and silently.

"You need money for a surgery, don't you?" Although his questions were relentless, his tone had softened from dark and demanding to confessional, and he lent back a few inches. The ice in his eyes had thawed ever so slightly, becoming pools of clear arctic water. For the first time, Jenna decided that they were, indeed, oddly beautiful.

"Yes. My mum." She sighed, pressing a tissue from the table to her eye. "She has ovarian cancer. It's quite advanced. There's an operation they can do, but of course, it's the NHS, there's a waiting list. Four months. We've discussed chemo, but, she doesn't know if she would..." She stopped then, not for fear of sharing too much, but for a lack of words.

"I thought that it would have to be something of that kind." Sherlock pulled back, standing up for the first time since they had met. Jenna was taken aback by his height - he wasn't a giant, but, standing in at 5"3, he seemed it to her. His dressing gown had also gone unnoticed - along with his stubble, it presented an untidiness that was both unexpected and a contrast to the obvious clarity of his mind.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time, anyway. I won't bother you again. Thanks." She arose, and made her way back to the door from which she had came.

"You can stay."

She whipped around in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

He maintained an indifferent composure, but Jenna could swear that she saw a glint of playfulness in his otherwise stony cold eyes. "You can live here, as long as you don't get in the way of the case I might be on, or touch my things - the scientific equipment especially. Do you understand?"

Although relieved, Jenna also felt herself become anxious again - if meeting the man had been this strange and emotional, what would actually living with him be like? "I understand. And no touching the experiments, right? That's what Mrs Hudson told me anyway!" She tried to have a chuckle with her new flat mate through her slowing tears, but was only met with a deafening, awkward silence.

"You've already broken that rule. The tissue you picked up and have been rubbing all over your face was used to wrap specimens."

"Specimens?"

"You'd rather not know. Trust me. I'd suggest you go and wash your face though. You're all streaky, now. Plus goodness knows what was on that tissue. The bathroom is around the corner over there."

It wasn't difficult to find. Peering into a lonely, foggy mirror, Jenna began to splash cold water onto her face. The sparse eyeliner that she had applied had moved to her cheeks, giving her the appearance of some sooty Victorian chimney boy. She would've looked like a man too, she felt, with her baggy sweater - it was only really her hair that revealed her. Long and wavy, the wind had transformed it into a brunette bird's nest. She tried to pull some of the tangles out with her fingers, but to no avail.

She huffed, rubbing her aching head with her fingertips. Screw it. Who did she have to impress anyway? She was going to stay here now, and just had to wait for the car to arrive with the few possessions she had. Of course there was Sherlock, but she had already made her first impression, and it had been far from positive to say the least.

"What an arsehole," she thought, wiping her hands on a scratchy blue handtowel. His smirk had been just a smidgen sexy, but, paired with that arroganct and vitriolic tone, ended up infuriating. Besides, she had no interest in anyone who felt it right to treat someone in such a way - she would do her best to get along with him, but that was it. As long as Sherlock didn't actively hate her, and they kept their disagreements low-key, Jenna felt confident that her place at the flat and as Mycroft's intern were secure.

A short buzz from her jeans startled her back into reality, and she fumbled with damp fingers to retrieve her iPhone. Hoping to see an encouraging text from her mother or friends, she was bitterly disappointed when her boss' name flashed onto the screen instead.

"I do hope your meeting went well today. Make sure my little brother is on his best behaviour tomorrow; I will be visiting at 1pm to make sure you're 'settling in'. - MH"

Oh crap! She hadn't expected him to take such a hands-on approach in making sure that she was keeping Sherlock in good company, and certainly wasn't prepared for him to actually see the two together - especially when Sherlock seemed completely reluctant to forge any sort of friendship.

Still, as cold and cantankerous as Mycroft could be, Jenna was touched by the care he had for the gruff man working in the next room. Noting the faint sound of scientific equipment clinking together on the other side of the door, Jenna wondered just how much of his bravado was a front. Was there a sweet and sensitive soul inside, just waiting to be released?

No, probably not - he seemed to be a complete and utter arse. But, with her home and job on the balance, Jenna resolved to put that aside and make something good out of a bad situation. Stepping out once again to the musty living area, she was completely unaware just how good she would be able to make her life there - and how bad it would be for her.