The Meeting of the Legends

Chapter 1

Her mind was coaxed back to consciousness by the music blaring on her phone. Stupid alarm. A couple of seconds passed as she lazily stared up at the beige popcorn ceiling of her new apartment. 221 C. When she had seen the ad for room available, the location gently overlapped a faint memory of a.... Of a something. She couldn't put her finger on the familiarity of the address, but took it as a sign that she should apply for room and board. That was a week ago, and she had moved in as soon as she had been approved.

Her eyes began to shut again.

Time to get up.

She rolled over and unlocked her phone, turning her alarm off. Ah, silence once again. Her eyes started to succumb to their unusual weight. Sleep likes to sneak up on a girl when your her neighbors aren't playing their string instruments at 3 am.

I have to get in the shower, she whined mentally. Gotta get up and get ready! A new job and all. She had first impressions to make! Fortunately, the steam and scolding water of her morning shower thoroughly woke her up. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, rubbing a towel through her recently highlighted hair she reflected on the monotony that was already beginning to set in. Another day, another job. She thought she'd be used to it by now. Suddenly, a knock sounded at her door. Visitors already?? She just moved in a few days ago! Who could it possibly be?

"Who is it?" She called from the bathroom, slowly maneuvering her way around the boxes littering her carpeted floor.

"It's Miss Hudson, dear! I've brought you the newspaper!" An elderly voice called back. Oh, the sweet landlady! Now striding over to the door, she unlocked the weathered metal latch and pulled it open.

"Why, hello, Miss Hudson!" She looked at her young renter with a grandmotherly face, just like she did when she interviewed the girl for the apartment, and handed her the newspaper.

"I thought you might like to learn a bit about your surroundings and get a feel for the place, you being from out of town and all. How are you settling in?" She peered around the thin female, eyes settling on the many boxes yet to be unpacked.

"Well.... It's coming along...," a look of skepticism crossed land-lady's face, "even though it doesn't look like it!!! I have a lot of stuff, I guess," she said fumbling with her towel, chuckling a little bit.

"Oh, Jane, you should've told me you needed help! I have some dear gentleman down the hall who would positively love to help you unpack your boxes!" Her kind smile shone like sunbeams, but it did little to decrease the wariness Jane had at the thought of having strangers coming into her living space to help her unpack her personal items. But before she could respond, Mrs. Hudson waved her hand in her face with an oh-its-nothing expression, and retreated down the hallway to the stairs.

"I'll tell the boys to come over later!"

Sighing, Jane looked after her and shut the door, turning to face the rather small apartment. Maybe I should start calling it a flat. I am in London now. She tossed the towel aside. Her morning rituals now continuing, she put on some mascara and lip balm, socks and converse, and snatched her purse, reopening the door 10 minutes later. The butterflies were beginning to settle in. A job at a coffeehouse/ bookshop seemed harmless enough, but these nerves always came in before her new jobs. She shut the door behind her and headed for the stairs.

As Jane passed by the only other door in the hallway- apparently the one where "the boys" lived- she could hear shouts leaking through the thin barrier. Always a painfully nosy person, she stopped at the door, and tentatively took a step towards it to listen in. As soon as her ear met the chipping wood, the yells came into clarity.

"Jesus, Sherlock, put the gun away! You know how Miss Hudson feels about you shooting at her walls! Plus there's a new renter next door!!"

Shooting? At the wall??? A satin, yet dark voice spoke next, only a bit calmer than the first.

"Well, I'm BORED, John! Unless you find me a case, leave me alone!"

Jane took a step back, familiarity fogging her thought process. She knew those names. Sherlock? That one you couldn't miss. Sherlock Holmes, the great detective from the Victorian Era, a fictional character written into existence by the famous Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Surely, it would've been hardly peculiar if some child of an over-zealous Doyle fan lived next door. It wouldn't have confused her, for example if it had been Sherlock and *insert random name here*....but John?? He was Sherlock Holmes' assistant, the good doctor! John Watson.
Woah. Some coincidence.
Taking slow, confused steps, she returned to her path down the hallway. Surely their last names didn't match too? They were probably just some homosexual, dysfunctional couple, living down the hall from her.

Jane glanced down at her watch as she descended the stairs. Jenkins! I'm gonna be late! Speed increased, she shot through the door, out onto the already busy streets of London, England.