A young man, fair skinned and dazzling green eyes with dark brown hair, happens upon an object at the doorstep of his apartment on Baker Street; a peculiar object to find in the mid-morning of the day, a violet envelope. That my dear friends is where our story begins.
The man is Sherlock Holmes, a twenty-four-year-old detective recovering from a cocaine addiction; a habit he had picked up after scenes of gore and mankind’s unspeakable acts of true evil have been gazed over by Sherlock himself. Any person could tell you the tales of Sherlock Holmes, the famous attendant, and detective of Baker Street, but hardly a soul dare knew of his depression or the rehabilitation of his dreadful antidote to his job. He groaned at remembering the words of one of his only friends, Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard while gazing at the envelope that lay on the desk across the room of his study
Now now Sherlock, as you go through the first two weeks of returning to the civilized world, I need you to stay off cases; for your own good.
“Sorry Lestrade, I just can’t help myself,” said Sherlock as he picked up the envelope and moved his hand over to open it
Meanwhile in another part of London
You’d think that the biggest thing to disrupt customers in a cafe would be perhaps the noise of a register or the sound of a sugary treat of a drink being made, and on any other day you’d be right, but today is not that day. Sitting at the bayside windows of the little cafe Chateh Noir, a cuddly little cafe near the River Thames, was a long red-haired woman reading. The only greater presence in the cafe than the lustful glances of men staring at her were those men’s dates tense glares of anger and jealousy.
The red-haired woman was reading a few books of manga, taking occasional sips from the caramel frap beside her, but what drew the attention of most men was the red large tail that appeared to be sprouting from her body. The tail moved around accordingly with her emotions, having gestures of sprouting up every time she was surprised or happy about something in the story she was reading at the time. While most people were surprised by her appearance, a few commoners of the cafe knew this character quite well as the titled “Scarlet Cat of Chateh Noir”. As we will come to know her, she is Morgan Elizabeth Watson, a veteran of war and a doctor. At the feeling of more pressure being applied to the cushions she was sitting on, Watson already could guess the company aside her.
“Morgan, this isn’t healthy for you to keep doing” Watson put down the book slowly to catch the view of a 50-year-old woman with short black hair, light blue dress shirt, and a beige skirt sitting beside her; this woman happened to be none other than Dr. Raiah Mellnue, a respected therapist, and Watson’s own personal conscience.
“What brings you to my own personal abode Ray?” asked Watson
“I came here to ask how your personal goal is going,” said Raiah, resisting a bit of anger at the casual nickname Watson had come up with for her, instead Raiah gave a rather sad glance at the broken person she saw before her “and this isn’t your home”
“Yeah, but you know my place...too much silence, too much thinking,” Watson said as she turned her attention out the window
“Morgan, you can’t escape your thoughts forever just by standing around others and getting more involved in nerd culture” said Raiah gesturing to the few men still gazing at Watson (they turned away at this point out of embarrassment at being caught) and then turning that gesture to the tail that was all too realistically waving around “do you even remember the goal we set for you?”
Watson sighed “find a roommate” Raiah smiled “See? Now all you have to do is find one” this caused Watson to turn glum and then perked up, finally having found an excuse “but I’d have no idea where to start” she had been confident this would get Raiah off her back. A moment of silence passed but Raiah then smirked and finally spoke up “try this one” she said holding out an ad with which Watson took begrudgingly “It’s an old detective friend of mine, one who I’m sure could use some company” Raiah added “A detective and a doctor? What kind of combo is that?” Watson said, an eyebrow perched up in curiosity.
Nonetheless, this is how Watson ended up right at the door of 221b Baker Street
Easy Watson, you need to give this a shot to get that hell of a therapist off your back the thoughts that were supposed to encourage Watson only made her more depressed. With that, she approached the door and turned the knob.
Back to Sherlock
Speechless, for once the great detective Sherlock Holmes found himself speechless by the new guest that had made herself welcome to his home. Before him stood a woman around five foot two, auburn long hair, blue shirt with a black wool vest over it, black jeans, and oddly enough a tail colored to match her hair that’s movement resembled that of a cat. He took a second to compose himself, putting the envelope down behind him on his desk “I’d take it that you are here for the housemate wanted ad” Sherlock gave what might appear to be quick look to most, for him it was like an hour with a computer pointing out numerous facts and numbers displayed about the person in front of him. Watson herself stayed silent for the moment, trying to comprehend that the creaky-bone, raspy-voiced old man she had imagined when reading the name Sherlock Holmes was, in fact, a fine looking (Watson wasn’t going to admit he was handsome just yet) young adult man who stood before her draped in black clothes. Sherlock gave it five more minutes of silence before he finally spoke up “Right then, I’ll get the landlady Ms. Hudson and she’ll get some tea going as this clearly is going to take some time”.
Thoughts zoomed through Watson's mind as she drank the final sip of her tea, not all such thoughts clean as she kept gazing upon Sherlock and then the desk, wondering if the desk was strong enough to hold them both laying down on it. They had gone on to introduce themselves to each other, talking about the apartment and its upkeep such as pricing and duties to the home, however, the place had fallen quite once again. Sherlock sighed and finally broke the silence once again “How long were you out there?” Watson looked at him, confused
“How long were you out in the fields of war?” asked Sherlock
Watson stayed silent for a few more minutes as she processed what he had actually asked “three years, four months, and twenty-two days” she said, her peppy expression suddenly was replaced with an almost sad stillness “quite the blunt one aren’t we?”
“Forgive me, Watson, I’m not the best with social queues. It's good news you came back” said Sherlock “because bloody hell this place gets far too silent sometimes, can I welcome you to the flat then?”
“How did you know? How did you know what my weakness is?” asked Watson
“The tail is clearly a gadget to help you cope with life” Sherlock gestured to the tail “most likely controlled through a smartwatch app” he added gazing at her wrist which she held up to show it was indeed a smartwatch “and judging on how well kept it is, it seems to be the foundation of your new found face upon returning home from unmentionable horrors” Watson went wide-eyed at how easily this detective was breaking down her character “tag that along with your right hand gently pulsating like its use to grasping a trigger” Watson for the first time in a while noticed her right hand was indeed shaking very subtly “and the way your eyes have darted at every little noise that goes on around us, I can deduce nothing else, Watson,” said Sherlock, Watson stiffened “Oh” Sherlock’s face suddenly turned from a small happiness to what one might just know as the face of a depressed man.
“Oh?” asked Watson
“And you have the look in your eye that I recognize so well, the look of the broken that is so easy to see in the eyes” said Sherlock
“Oh” said Watson looking down, allowing another silence to join the crowd of moments that had piled up in the room. She sat there, sitting and staring at this man who somehow, she saw the same shattered soul that was in herself
Sherlock suddenly felt a hand grasp his own “It’d be a pleasure to call this place mine Holmes” said Watson as she smiled. Sherlock got a grin but suddenly went stern once more “MRS HUDSON! Fix up the room for tonight, our guest has agreed to become a resident” Watson gained a face of curiosity as Sherlock came back with a violet envelope in hand
“What’s that?” asked Watson
“This my dear Watson, is the beginning of a wonderful mystery,” said Sherlock as he ripped open the envelope to find inside, a copper key on a chain of the same color, along with a small slip of paper that had fallen at his feet.