I stood outside the door of 221B Baker Street, with a soggy piece of paper in my hand. The piece of paper had the exact address of one of my elder brothers, but the rain had smudged the ink.
I'd been sent here with a letter from my parent explaining why I had come, but I'm sure my brother would be reasonable and not need to see it. So I knocked on the door and stood back a little. A woman, in her early sixties, opened the door. "Oh, good morning, I'm here to see Mr Sherlock Holmes." I said with a polite but nervous smile. "Oh, do come in," the woman said in a friendly manner "Do you want some tea, Miss..." "Holmes. Kathleen Holmes." I said, finishing her sentence.
The woman jumped a little once I'd said my name. But then she went back to making tea "I can go on up, I'll be there in a minute." She said. "Thank you, err..." I couldn't finish my sentence. "Mrs Hudson. I'm Mr Holmes' landlady." The woman smiled as the kettle boiled. "Well, thank you, Mrs Hudson." I replied turning to walk up the stairs. As I walked upstairs, I could hear a familiar voice shout "BORED! BORED! BORED!" Then another came and said "Sherlock, there's more to life than just solving cases."
I continued to walk upstairs until I reached a black door. Then there was a gun shot which make a hole in the door. Picking myself up from ducking down, I knock on the door. A man with fair hair opened it. "Sherlock, you've got a client." He said. "Well, I wouldn't describe myself a client as such, more of a visitor." I chuckled. The room was full of experiments and walls were full of maps with pins stuck to them. I looked around for a bit and then spotted an armchair facing the window.
All I could see was a violin and, occasionally a hand would pop out from the front of the chair as it played. I decided to wait until the playing stopped as I knew the person in the chair did not like to be disturbed while he was playing the violin. Once the violin had stopped playing, the violinist stood up and turned around to reveal my elder brother, Sherlock Holmes. He looked at me strangely. "Hello, brother." I said with a smile as Mrs Hudson came up with a cup of tea.
She placed down the cup "Refills, John?" She asked the fair haired man. "No thank you, Mrs Hudson." The man said politely. "Refills, Sherlock?" She asked. Sherlock didn't say anything he just studied me instead. "Why are you here?" He asked demandingly. I huffed. He looked down at my coat pocket and took the letter out of it. He opened it carefully and read it. The man, who Mrs Hudson had addressed as John, looked over Sherlock's shoulder. Then Sherlock looked back over at me.
"Pathetic!" He raised his voice "Little Nancy wants to be like her brother." "You've always known I would join you, Sherlock." I sighed. Then John cut in "Wait a minute, it says her name is Kathleen in the letter, yet you've just called her Nancy." Sherlock and I look over at John. "It was a childhood thing," I said. "she basically nicknamed herself after a character in some crime fiction hogwash." Sherlock sighed cutting to the chase. "Edward Stratemeyer's Nancy Drew was not 'hogwash'!" I scolded at him.