Month 1. Part 2
The black door I approached looked worn and chipped. Gold letters were shining at the top of it right above a golden door knocker. 221B. I grabbed the key from my pocket and scanned it, checking the number on it. 221C. I raised my left hand and knocked lightly. As I waited for someone to answer I took in the sights. Right next door was a small cafe. Speedy's Sandwich Bar & Cafe was printed in big white letters. I peeked inside a window and examined the small shop. There wasn't much inside except for a few tables for guests and an area for the employees to arrange meals. I pulled my attention from the shop when I heard the door to 221B open. Standing there was an older woman. She had short sandy blond hair and peach colored cheeks. Her outfit was comprised of a brightly colored scarf, an ankle length light brown skirt, and a loose white dress shirt. She gave off a very warming and cheery presence. "Hello there dear! Oh, you must be Parker. I've been waiting for you all morning. You must be exhausted!" I barely got a word in as she yanked me inside.
As sweet as this woman was, it made me tense up. Affection wasn't an emotion I was use to receiving, even with my abundance of feelings towards things. Those were mostly kept to myself, however. Just because I had been taught to turn my emotions off doesn't mean I enjoyed doing so. "I'm Mrs. Hudson, dear. I'm your landlady. I'll be living in the flat right next to you. Oh, this will be so nice!" No ounce of happiness was wasted in her words. She seemed genuinely excited to have me there. She ushered me to my new home, pulling the key out of my hand while still going on about how it would be so nice to have another woman around to chat with. I kept my ears trained on her while glancing around the rest of the building.
It had a rustic look to it, dust gathering in the corners but still having the decency to keep out of the line of sight. A staircase took its place right above my apartment door, winding up to what I assumed was 221B. "I've got two other tenants living here. A man and a woman. We'll all have to gather together tonight to get more acquainted with you." I turned my attention back to her at the mention of getting to know my neighbors.
She had opened my door and stood there patiently, waiting for me to go in first. I took a step in, instantly smelling remnants of fresh paint and sawdust. The walls were painted a pastel blue with gold trim. There was a fireplace at the opposite side of the room with a white mantle and dark stone built around the floor of it to catch any ash or debris. It was empty aside from the few boxes I had with all of my belongings packed away in them. "They made quite a ruckus remodeling this place. I'm surprised they managed to clean it up so fast for you. I wasn't able to get anyone to rent it before." She explained while closing the door behind her and then making her way to the kitchen. I unbuttoned my coat and slid it off, placing it on one of the boxes. A pang of anxiety suddenly settled in my chest. I had never lived outside of America. I didn't know the customs here or even my way around the block. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to relax myself, jumping when an unknown text tone played on my phone. My eyebrows furrowed as I opened my eyes and reached in to my coat pocket. In the background I could hear Mrs. Hudson moving around in the kitchen, most likely straightening up. She seemed like the type to clean any mess in front of her.
I checked my phone, confused to see that I hadn't gotten anything. Another text tone played, causing me to eye my coat. "Ah...that's right." I immediately remembered that Mr. Holmes had given me a phone for his associate to contact me on. I reached back in to my pocket, pulling the iPhone out. The screen was lit up, showing a notification for two text messages. My thumb slid across the screen to unlock it, the text messages instantly popping up.
Get rid of her quickly.
My head tilted in confusion as I glanced over at Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen. She was fixing some tea for us, humming lightly to herself. It made me nervous that this person knew that Mrs. Hudson was with me. My eyes searched the immediate areas for any signs of a hidden camera. When I found nothing I turned my attention back to my phone and read the second text.
Now.
"We'll have to take you shopping in a short while for some food, dear. We can't have you starving." She turned to stare at me, her cheery expression dropping when she saw that I was rooted in the place she had last seen me. "Is everything alright?" She asked, receiving a nod from me. Another text tone.
Don't you listen?
I locked the phone and tossed it on to another nearby box. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I'm just a little dazed from the trip. Would you mind if I just freshened up a bit?" I asked while opening the door for her. She smiled and nodded, clasping her hands together. "Of course, dear. I understand." She made her way to the door, stopping right as she crossed the threshold. She pointed her index finger at me, a sly smile on her lips. "Don't think you'll weasel your way out of our little gathering tonight." And with that she was gone. I chuckled a little and shut the door, rolling my eyes as I heard the text tone again. I turned and grabbed the phone, unlocking it.
Bedroom.
"You could ask a little nicer, you know!" I exclaimed, stopping when I realized I was talking rather loudly to a phone. This person was starting to infuriate me. I made my way to the bathroom, all the while admiring my new home. I stuck my head inside a small room next to my bedroom that I decided within a second I would make in to an office. It was painted white with a wooden floor, black curtains covering a large window on the other side of the room. My bedroom door was closed, putting me on alert for someone who may be waiting for me on the other side. I took precaution, unbuckling the belt around my waist and wrapping it once around my right hand to use as a weapon. I turned the door knob and pushed the door open, dropping my defense when I saw that it was empty except for my mattress and mattress frame leaning up against a wall. I walked in, noting the bathroom and closet doors were wide open. No threat.
My head snapped in the direction of the closet, hearing a small 'ping!' come from it. I walked over to it, reaching up on to a small shelf inside of it and grabbing a small laptop sitting upon it. The laptop was halfway open, the screen illuminating the keypad. I pushed the screen up, surprised to see a web cam chat set up. A small green light suddenly turned on at the top of my screen, a video feed of myself popping up on the screen. My eyebrows furrowed again once I saw how tired and disheveled I looked. My hand reached up to fix pieces of my hair that were sticking up, stopping when a chat window popped up along with a picture of a question mark for their web cam feed. The name for the person gave me a small amount of information on them.
Doyle: Stop fidgeting with your hair. We're not here to look pretty. We're here to do a job.
My hand dropped to my side as I frowned. I apologized and brought the laptop out with me to the front room, taking a seat on the soft grey carpet. I pulled my hair out of its bun and slid my boots off to get comfortable, waiting for the next reply. Finally a 'ping!'.
Doyle: I'm sending you all of the information on John H. Watson. Read over it carefully and study him.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the email icon had a red '1' on the right hand corner of it. I ran my fingers over the touch pad and tapped on the email icon. An email reading 'JHW' appeared. I clicked on it, revealing a multitude of links to information about him including a resume, birth certificate, family photos, and news articles about his business with Sherlock Holmes. I scanned over a photo of John and Sherlock, surprised to see the pair together. One being extraordinarily taller than the other and having a darker appearance to him. Not to mention handsome. They both looked professional, proper posture telling me that they took their business seriously. John had a more wholesome look to him but the small lines on his face told me a different story. It told me that he had been through hardship but came out of it all on top, most likely because of his relationship with Mr. Holmes. Sherlock, however was much harder to read. A lot like his brother. He looked like he kept to himself. Like he had been shunned for so long for being the way he was that he had accepted it long ago. Perhaps this was why him and John remained colleagues. Funny what kind of reading you could get off of one photo. To be honest though, I instantly took more of an interest in Sherlock Holmes than John Watson.
I shook those thoughts out of my head. It felt wrong to be attracted to someone just because you enjoyed the appearance of said person over the other. To me, at least. It was only human nature, of course. Besides, after I had done all of my research on John I would look up Sherlock and find out anything I could. I was even more compelled to do so when I clicked on a link that lead me to an article with the headline 'SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS'. I began reading the page when another chat line popped up.
Doyle: Someone of your intelligence ignores distractions, Miss McKinley. Do not disappoint.