John Watson (bakerstregular) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-07-11 10:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | john watson, sherlock holmes |
Who: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson FTW (NPC!Mrs. Hudson)
What: Their first meeting, as Waston responds to Holme's advertisement for a "flat".
When: Wednesday Morning
Where: 221B Baker Street (California...)
Ratings/Warnings: PG-13, to be safe.
Status: In Progress
John Watson rang at 221B Baker Street hoping he wasn't about to be murdered. There was still a lot of life left in him. Or so he was told by a woman he paid to psychoanalyze him on a weekly basis.
The fact that he had not satisfactorily ruled out the possibility of murder seemed like a reason to not ring the bell, and yet Watson's finger was mashed into the copper colored button on the doorframe. It was an handsome door, at least. That made him feel a little more at ease, for some reason. Serial killers weren't especially known for maintaining flats with curb appeal, now were they?
When the door was answered, it was undoubtedly not by the man he had conversed with on the Internet. It was an older woman, somewhere passed sixty but not quite yet seventy, attractive for someone her age but also matronly. Watson leaned on his cane and looked at the staircase that loomed behind her. That was one thing he had totally forgotten to ask about: handicap accessibility; but it was possible that had been an unconscious omission. Watson still had a good deal of his pride intact, even if the rest of him wasn't.
"Are you here to see Sherlock?" the woman asked, with a certain amount of anxiety in her voice that didn't bode well.
The journey up the stairs was more difficult than Watson had anticipated. It was an old building, with lots of character--character being another words for creaky, loose floorboards. If the meeting to follow didn't go well, he could have used the staircase as a legitimate excuse to get him out of the mess he was sure he was getting himself into.
The older woman knocked on the door marked B. Along the way, she had clarified that she was Mrs. Hudson, the landlady. Watson was about to ask why she seemed to have taken a back seat to filling her own rooms, when the door began to swing open on its hinges.