Sherlock (but from a Johnlock POV){ON HOLD}

SIP: ✨Three✨

It was afternoon when John Watson arrived to his shabby bedsit. He sat down on his bed, scrolling through the menu to see if he had any new messages. There was one - the last one sent: If brother has green ladder, arrest brother  -SH

   John stared at it for a long moment, puzzled, then glanced up at his desk, at the laptop sitting on it. He got a sudden idea.

   He hoisted himself to his feet and went over to it, sitting down, and opening it up. He pulled up a website called Quest (either made up or British google lol) and typed the name 'Sherlock Holmes' into the search box.

~~~

   John limped along Baker Street sidewalk, his blue eyes darting among the tall buildings for a door labeled 221B. His cane kept catching on the dents and cracks in the concrete, making it harder for him to walk.

   He reached his destination a moment later - a black (or was it very dark green?) door labeled 221B in gold numbers. John knocked on the door.

   A black taxicab pulled up and stopped right behind him at the curb, and he couldn't stop himself from looking back at it. A tall man with dark curly hair stepped out - Sherlock Holmes. Good timing.

   "Hello," he said to John, then bent down and handed the taxi driver some money through the window, thanking him. The taxi drove off as Sherlock strode towards John.

   "Oh, Mr. Holmes," John said.

   "Sherlock, please." They shook hands, suddenly feeling as if they'd been properly introduced. Sherlock's hand was slightly cold, yet firm, and fit perfectly with John's. The former soldier ignored this fact since it made him uncomfortable and turned to the door.

   "Well, this is a prime spot," he said, trying not to be awkward. "Must be expensive."

   "Oh, Mrs Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal," Sherlock replied. "Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out." He said this like it was normal.

   "Sorry... you stopped her husband being executed?" John wasn't sure he'd heard right.

   "Oh no... I ensured it." Sherlock smiled. The door opened finally, by a short woman with curly red hair and a purple dress. She smiled when she saw Sherlock, opening her arms.

   "Oh, Sherlock," she said happily, and the taller man stepped into her arms, briefly hugging her, then stepped back and glanced at John.

   "Mrs Hudson, Doctor John Watson," he introduced.

   "Hello," said Mrs Hudson, and John greeted her back with a polite smile. "Come in," she said to both of them, gesturing inside.

   "Thank you," John said quietly, and went in, Sherlock following closely behind him. Mrs Hudson shut the door for them.

   John stared around at the place he was met with. It was fairly small, and directly in front of the door was a flight of stairs leading up to another door. Behind the stairs was a door, presumably leading to Mrs Hudson's area.

   Sherlock trotted up the stairs. John hesitated for a split second, then followed him.

-

   Sherlock waited for John at the top of the stairs, feeling unusually excited. He didn't get excited about things that didn't have to do with a gruesome murder or a mysterious case. For some reason he'd taken... a 'liking' to this Army doctor.

   John reached the top of the stairs, breathing slightly heavily from exertion, and Sherlock opened the door for him.

   The room they were met with (the living room) was fairly spacious, with a desk across from the door, a fireplace to the left (with two armchairs beside it, facing each other), and to the right, a couch pressed against the wall with a squat table in front of it. There were bookshelves on either side of the fireplace, stocked to the brim with books, and various boxes and papers lay strewn and stacked across the room.