Warm and bright light kisses your eyelids awake softly. Without opening your mouth, you yawn and enjoy the winter sun that shines, through your curtains, on your face. Lying there, you feel the big blanket on top of you, most of them you have pushed away during the night, now the remaining follows shortly. Suddenly you remember last night and sit up, looking over at the chair where Sherlock was still asleep, mouth open and slightly snoring. You smile to yourself and get up from the cosy bed, pulling the blanket over Sherlock's shoulders.
You look around in the room, and it is then when it hits you that you really own an apartment. A tiny, old apartment with two rooms and a bathroom in 221 Baker Street. Another smile appears on your face and tugs up the side of your lip. "I'm home", you whisper to no one in particular. As you stand there you feel a certain human need and hurry to the loo. Sherlock is still asleep as you exit the restroom, with fresh clothes and braid hair. You quickly rearrange your blankets and hold your breath as Sherlock stirs in his sleep. Glad that he doesn't wake up, you head up to 221B, where John is already munching at his cornflakes. "Morning", he growls, barely looking up from his breakfast.
"Morning", you greet, closing the wooden door. "How long does Sherlock normally sleep?"
John chokes at the in milk soaked cornflakes and coughs trying to get some much needed air into his lungs.
"Jesus Christ, John!", you chuckle, while hitting at his back, to get the doctor breathing again. John recovers fast, but his eyes are still blood shot and his veins stand out on his pale skin.
"Sherlock fell asleep on the chair. Nothing else, John, get your shit together. Your boyfriend would never cheat on you", you state with a wink, which shows was a huge mistake because John starts coughing again.
The next few weeks were nothing special. Most of the time you spent at 221, helping Mrs. Hudson or doing chores. Sometimes you helped the guys on some cases (some people are really weird). You only met Mycroft once and told him a lot of uninteresting things, like the fact that Sherlock has been composing another piece or that John and Marry were now dating. You could really make a living out of the money from Mycroft. You called public services to tell them that you didn't live with Lazarus anymore, and Sherlock and John earn a little extra money for looking out for you. As soon as Lazarus found out he had called you and threw insults, like raindrops in a storm, at you. After the call you sat and the floor and as Sherlock and John came home they cheered you up, five minutes later and you would've cut yourself. They were always there every time you needed them. Like parents, protecting you from all the bad in the world.
It was only a week until Christmas when everything went downwards again.