I stare distastefully into the empty fridge. Well, empty in the sense of a jar of pickles, half a tub of butter and some dubious-looking leftovers. I straighten up and close the fridge with a sigh. Resigning myself to the fact that I'll have to go out, I tug on my coat then count the change in my pocket. £4.12 - I would need to take my card.

Grabbing my keys and debit card, I leave my flat and lock up behind me. As I walk down the steps I nearly bump into one of my neighbours. She's tanned and has frizzy brown hair and she smiles with straight white teeth. Not really my type, but she seems nice, and I smile back politely. After all, I need to make some friends in the building and a rude next-door neighbour who thinks I shouldn't speak to him (which is basically what he said to me the day before) doesn't exactly count.

"Hi, sorry." I apologise for bumping into her.

"It's alright." she replies. "So, you're the new guy, yeah? I haven't seen you around here before. Moved in upstairs?"

"Yeah, that's me." I nod.

"Well, let me give you a heads up - the last guy that lived there cleared out after a month. Your next-door neighbour? Sherlock Holmes? He's a nightmare. If you wanna keep yourself sane, move out. Lord knows why I haven't already. The whole building can hear him playing the violin and messing around with his crazy experiments."

I try not to frown. This man, Sherlock Holmes, has obviously left a bad impression on most of this building. But I don't want to let him leave a bad impression on me.

"I don't like judging people by what other people think of them." I reply evenly. She just shakes her head absently.

"He thinks it too. He's a freak. A total psychopath. Do yourself a favour and clear off whilst you still have the chance."

I don't know how to reply to that and I think she picks up on it too.

"My name is Sally. Sally Donovan."

"John Watson." I respond, offering her my hand to shake. She accepts, her hand cool in my warm palm. But I have no intention of speaking to her further. I give her a brief smile and release her hand, continuing down the stairs and to the shops, wondering as I walk along the paved streets of London with my crutch, about the man on the other side of the wall, Sherlock Holmes and why everybody dislikes him so much.


A/N: Sorry for the short size of this one! I needed a bit of a filler whilst I got my ideas together because they were scattered about my brain like somebody had just emptied a filing cabinet all over it. Also, for future reference, any and all Author's Notes will be at the bottom so as not to impede your reading!