Later that night, I arrive back at the door to 221C, wondering who will open it this time. Probably John again, because, "The famous Sherlock Holmes never had too!" I knock, sharply.
"Hello, you must be Ms. Turner." It wasn't John or Sherlock.
"And you must be Mrs. Hudson." I say, "I was wondering about 221C?"
"Oh yes, it's a basement flat, and not a lot of people like those." She leads me in.
"I actually like them quite a bit."
"Oh that's just wonderful! And also, being the landlady that I am I have to tell you that your neighbors might get loud and rowdy and try to shoot walls."
"Ahh yes that does seen like something Sherlock would do." I smirk.
"Well, this is it." It's a small, damp room with a bathroom. It's definitely not much but it's better than a hotel room.
"I'll take it. Um, you said the down payment was £1000?" I place that amount in her hand and she gives me the shiny key.
"Yes, dear, that's right. Thank you!"
"I'm just gonna run out to grab my stuff then I'll start getting set it. Thanks again!"
I run back up the stairs and into John.
"Oy, sorry mate. Oh Ana!" He says, when he realizes its me.
"Sorry about that,"
"No it's fine. So you got the flat?"
"Yup," I twirl the key around, "I am now the proud owner of 221C!"
"But you do have some pretty obnoxious neighbors."
"Oh I've heard, shooting walls! How terrible!" I say, my voice covered in sarcasm.
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
"I'd love one. Thanks."
We head up the stairs both still chuckling about my joke.
"John! I need them! Where are they?!" I hear as I walk into their flat.
"Where are what?" I ask the curiosity getting the better of me, "Oh right the cigarettes." I answer myself before John can.
"I don't know, you like sugar in your tea?"
"Oh are you making tea? I'd like a cup." Sherlock answers and stops pacing.
"I'm making tea for Ana and I. And I don't think you deserve any the way you've been treating our walls." I snicker.
"Oh, Ms. Turner, we meet again." He glances at meet then rolls his eyes and gets back to his work. I shiver, playfully.
"Ooo, frosty," I say, and John chuckles. He sets out the tea tray and puts the tea cups and everything on it.
"Thank you John. This is lovely."
"See, Sherlock. She's smart and she say thank you. And she just moved into the flat below us."
"Yes, John. Have you not seen the key in her hand?" I roll my eyes. We sip our tea and chat as Sherlock sulks on the couch. When we are finished. I tell him that I should go pick up my stuff and start moving in. I take a cab back to the hotel shove everything in bags, then catch a can back to Baker Street and go down to my flat. There is literally no furniture in the entire small flat. So I catch another cab and head to a furniture store. After looking around for quite some time, I get a couch, a table, few dining chairs, a bed, few living room chairs, and some other furnishings. I ask some of the workmen to come move it into my flat later, but they can only do it tomorrow. I sigh and reluctantly agree. I should not have checked out of that hotel! I head back to my flat and lay my clothes out in a rectangle to sleep on, using a blanket I thankfully had as, well, a blanket. It's late and I've had a busy day, so I try to get some rest. I hear a knock on my door.
"Hey it's John can I come in?" I try to get up to let him in, but my body is unnaturally stiff from sleeping on the floor.
"It's open!" I shout. And he comes in.
"Well, hey there, John, how's your evening going?"
"Fine, but why are you sleeping on the floor?"
"Because I don't have a bed," I say, slowly wondering, why else would I be sleeping on the floor.
"Of course, and you can come up to our flat and sleep in Sherlock's bed," he says, matter-of-factly.
"No way, that would be creepy and weird!"
"Oh no he never like actually sleeps in his bed. It's just there. He usually doesn't sleep."
"Ok alright then, but my bed is coming tomorrow. I'll meet you up there." I just quickly take off my shirt and bra and put on a night shirt. I slip off my jeans and put on sweatpants. I go up the their flat barefoot and hope Sherlock doesn't see me. Not that I really care, but he is such a jerk! Luckily, he's asleep on the couch and John is reading a book. John points down the hall to Sherlock's room and I mouth, "Thanks." I walk in and throw of the covers.
"Eep!" I shriek. I grab the disembodied hand and walk out to the main room.
"I've got to hand to you," I toss the hand at him and shudder.
"Sorry," he whispers. I go back into the bedroom and curl up beneath the thick layers of blanket.
Later that night, I feel a warm body next to mine and being the cold London nights that they are, I snuggle up to it to get some warmth. It is tall and very comfortable. And I fall asleep easily being held by those loving arms.
A/N:
This is not set in a specific time period durning the series, I just wanted to use that part about the cigarettes. Thank you for reading! And thanks to everyone who followed and/or reviewed!
- CaughtInTheStorm