The next day, (y/n) woke with a smile of her face, feeling refreshed and well rested after her long flight.

Unlike the movies, (y/n) knew where she was and how she got here. Similar to the movies, however, it did take her a bit to fully gain consciousness and completely absorb the events of the past few days.

She was in Mrs. Hudson's guest room. The walls were painted a pretty, rosy pink. Light streamed through the clean window, bathing the room in the soft morning sunshine.

(Y/n)'s bags stood in the corner, next to a large and presumably empty closet. A brown leather chair sat in the opposite corner and the door was directly across the foot of (y/n)'s bed.

Yawning, (Y/n) laid back down, not wanting to get up just yet.

She was on the verge of falling asleep again when a soft knock came from the door. "Yoo hoo! (Y/n)! Are you up, dearie?"

(Y/n) groaned and rolled onto her back, stretching. "Yeah.." she called back.

"May I come in?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

(Y/n) nodded, then realized the landlady couldn't see her and shouted that she could.

The door creaked open and (y/n) sat up, allowing the tea-laden woman to sit on the edge of the bed. "Cuppa tea?"

(Y/n) gave a shrug. "I've never had tea, but sure!"

Mrs. Hudson smiled and expertly poured two cups of tea, handing one to (y/n). She took it and sniffed the liquid before pressing the cup to her lips, smiling at it's warmth.

She took a sip and closed her eyes. It was warm and quite delicious, though it had a tang of bitterness to it.

"(Y/n), I was thinking about living arrangements." She opened her eyes and hummed an agreement. "I don't have a flat you could rent by yourself, but I have the guest room you slept in and John offered to share his flat. Said he was most likely going to move in with Mary soon and Sherlock seemed fine with another flatmate."

"Oh. Okay." (Y/n) pressed her lips together. "Who's Sherlock?"

Mrs. Hudson smiled. "Sherlock's a nice young man, around your age. Says he's a detective. Speaking of Sherlock, I need to go up and give him his tea. Care to join me?"

"Sure, I'd like to meet this 'Sherlock' fellow." (Y/n) agreed, slipping out of bed. Mrs. Hudson smiled and collected her teacups then left the room to let (y/n) change.

~

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Hudson was knocking on the flat above her own, holding a tray with a teapot, cups, and a plate of biscuits.

"Yoo hoo! Sherlock!" She called. "I got you a cuppa!"

The door swung open and there stood John, a tired look on his face. "Oh, Mrs. Hudson! Hi, thank you! Come in, come in." He moved aside, ushering them in. "Oh, and good morning, (y/n)! Sorry about the mess, Sherlock's not the most organized person."

(Y/n) laughed, looking around at the papers and books covering every available surface- even the floor. She also took not of the violin case in the corner and, oddly enough, a skull sulking on the mantle next to a knife protruding from a stack of unopened letters. "Neither am I: it's completely fine."

Mrs. Hudson set the tray on the coffee table, the teakettle clattering. "Oh Sherlock! The mess you've made." She stood there, her hands on her hips and a reprimanding look on her face.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson. Experiments, old cases." A tall man explained vaguely, walking into tbe room. He was gaunt with a pale face that sported high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. A messy mop of black curls fell over his stunning blue-green eyes. He wore a handsome black suit jacket, matching slacks, black dress shoes, and a white shirt. The shirt, (y/n) noticed, was the only thing disheveled about him, aside from his hair, of course.

He wore an apologetic, lopsided grin as he leaned against the doorframe, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Oh Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson exclaimed with a shake of her head. "Come here, I brought you someone to meet and of course, some nibbles."

The tall man -Sherlock- stood up and embraced Mrs. Hudson in a warm hug, almost having to kneel on the ground to reach her height. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"Of course, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson stepped back, returning to her tea and pouring it into the two cups. "Sherlock, this is (Y/n). She's the one John told you about."

Sherlock raised his head, and his eyes met hers. (Y/n) felt her cheeks grow warm as Sherlock stood up again (when had he sat down?) and stepped over the coffee table between them, not breaking eye contact once. (Y/n) noticed with a spark of amusement how he literally stepped onto the cluttered table and jumped off on the other side.

Sherlock stopped right in from of (Y/n) and stared at her. Quickly, he stuck out his hand. "Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh! Hi-" (Y/n) stammered. She took his hand with a blush rising rapidly. Ehether it was from embarrassing herself or the fact that she had gotten lost in his eyes, she didn't know. "I-I'm (Y/n). (Y/n) Rose. It's nice to meet you."

Sherlock hummed, dropping his hand. "Likewise."

Silence fell between them as Sherlock seemed to take in her appearence. Not sure how to feel, she glanced towards John, standing in the doorway with a small frown, meeting (y/n)s gaze and immediately understanding her discomfort. "Sherlock, be nice." John hissed in a low voice, sending him a sharp glare.

Sherlock returned John's glare with an exasperated look, then turned back to (Y/n), their eyes meeting once again.

"I uh.." Sherlock cleared his throat. "I like your accent...?" It sounded more like a question, but judging by John's surprised Pikachu face, it was the best he'd head and most likely Sherlock's way of 'being nice'.

"Uh.. thanks. I like yours too..." She trailed off, unsure of how he would react.

Sherlock fell back into a silence, studying her. (Y/n) swore she caught a glimpse of something in his eye before his gaze hardened and his mouth pressed into a thin line. "(Y/n) Rose. Just moved here, possibly to get away from family or a change in scenery. Welcome to London, by the way."

"Than-"

"Somewhere in your 20s, single, two siblings. Your favorite color is (f/c) but you also love (s/f/c). No pets, but obviously a cat person. Most likely had a cat when you were younger. You're accent suggests you're from somewhere overseas, most like the United States of America. Where in America? Utah. Provo. Or... Orem, perhaps?"

(Y/n) blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Orem, Utah. Correct?"

"I-" (y/n) swallowed. "Uh.. yes. How did you know that?"

Sherlock only gave her a small smile. The room fell into silence once more, only broken by Mrs. Hudson announcing her departure.

A few seconds later, John smacked his lips. "Alrighty then."

"What?" Sherlock asked simply, finally turning away from (Y/n), focussing his attention on John. (Y/n) gave an involuntary sigh of relief. Having a stranger stare at you for five minutes, then tell you your whole life story wasn't as much fun as you'd think it would be.

"How'd you know it was Utah?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded to her outfit, an old white shirt covered by a baggy BYU sweatshirt. "BYU. Brigham Young University. It's in Utah."

John's eyebrows furrowed. "That's just a school, out of thousands! Of all places, why Utah?"

Sherlock sighed. "A colleague of mine went there and I thought it'd be useful to remember." He smiled at (Y/n). "Turns out I was right."

John scoffed. "Useful to remember ?" He mocked, storming to the kitchen. "More important than the Earth revolving around the sun?"

Sherlock groaned. "That was one time, John!"

(Y/n) could practically see John smirking and Sherlock rolling his eyes as he followed the shorter man, their argument continuing even in the kitchen. She giggled and picked up a cup of untouched tea from the tray.

Sherlock was a strange fellow but somehow she knew she was going to like it here.

~

Sorry if John and Sherlock seemed a little OOC, I just barely got the first season and only started watching today.

Hope you liked this chapter of 'The One'!