Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes; the honour belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as Warner Bros. and Village Road Show. The following story occurs after the second film (SHaGoS) and won't take the third or the next films into account.


June, 12th 1901
around 09:37 a.m.

"I am the girl you saved from drowning in River Plym, whom you called leech and hunchback, sir!"

Pressing two fingers over my lips, I attempted - unsuccessfully, to subdue a girlish giggle, as my mind repeated once again the fresh memory of my reunification to the mad detective. H?tel de Ville, Paris. It was early January; the fifth day of the New Year, and his and my paths had once again crossed. Honestly, we hadn't seen each other in seven years yet the moment the iceberg between us began melting, we acted as if we hadn't parted our ways. In the beginning he did not seem to remember me, perhaps it was the fact I was dressed nicely and not in trousers and boyish clothing. Oh, and what was his response?

Exactly!
"I believe my precise words were: you need to stop following me around and your shoulders are slouchy." With a sardonic smile added, "I am glad you did not take my advice in any of these instances."

"Are you implying I have hunched shoulders right now?"

My temper suits perfectly to a harpy.

My steps leaded me in a famed street of Marylebone for the first time in my life. I hadn't been there before, simply am able to find my bearings in any place even if I have never been in these: a natural magnetic compass. Less than an hour had passed since began my journey from Hotel Savoy to Baker Street, on foot - because I needed to walk. The bustle and busy the same to bees, life in the capital did not match the life I was used to in Corcaigh, Wanlockhead or Plymouth. People talking and gossiping, horses neighing, carriages and automobiles moving, paperboys shouting the news - simply unbearable and hitting my very nerves. I will get used to this, I have to. London is filled with life, is the heart of the industrial empire, the heart of western civilisation.

Baker Street 221B was the tall building I was instructed by none else from a madman who was pronounced dead for almost a decade, to go. It was fair that the very day was warm and sunny instead of foggy as few days ago. Everything was cleaner. The building was made of fading white and red brick, had wrought iron gates and wide windows. The walls bore red and black tapestry. Oppose me stood a tall, circular black gate with a lamp hanging down from it. Upon it read the address: 221B.

There was my future.

Tiptoeing I held the door knocker to signify my existence. As the door opened a tall woman with wrinkles around her face, olive eyes and honey blond hair styled in a perfect chignon at her neck's base, with dark attire and a pair of delicate earrings decorating her ears. She looked at me suspicious; Heavens know what she has been through all these years as having the mad detective as a lodger.

"Good morning," clearing my throat, "are you missus Hudson?"

"I am. Who are you?"

"Forgive me for my manners, ma'am," I curtsied as the protocol instructed. "My name is Roxanne Fairchild and I would like to rent two rooms for my colleague and me."

Her face lit, "come in, dearie. Come in! Don't stand in the threshold," Mrs. Hudson stood aside allowing me to enter her building, "would you like a cup of tea?" Holding my hat I nodded and the older woman stormed away in where I believed the kitchen was located. My gaze travelled upstairs, two doors: white doors, thirty-six steps from where I stood to the first one on the top of a case and I'd be to walk easily to enter the rooms Sherlock Holmes ordered me to rent and no others. Yes, a weary smile ghosted my face; I'd love to live in these rooms.

"Miss Fairchild," snapping my gaze I smiled tightly at the landlady, "would you like to come with me to discuss your matters for leasehold."

"Of course, ma'am," I followed her. The plan should go precisely as it was mapped out.


Authoress Note:

Finally!

After numerous edits and second thoughts I have conclude in a braw storyline. Or not? I have also scrutinized thoroughly Roxanne's character and I pray she's written finely, not perfectly, but finely. I need to say I am incredibly slow at updates. Not to mention, English is not my mother tongue and I try as possible as I can to make less grammatical and syntactical mistakes.

I do hope you enjoy reading this and pretty please, support my work!

Stay Safe,

H.D.