The taxi door opened suddenly, allowing droplets of rain to spill onto the floor as a smug looking man climbed in shaking water from his dark curly hair.

"That sure took you long enough. What were you doing in there?"

Sherlock looked at his friend as though the answer should have been obvious "I was looking for my skull. Mrs Hudson hid it one last time and I couldn't let it be taken away along with all her other possessions. She was getting remarkably clever with her hiding places… placing it in her china cabinet to be camouflaged among her teapots; who would of guessed?"

"Obviously you." Answered John, as the taxi began its way through the wet, dreary streets of London.

A gloomy day for a gloomy mood thought John. The news came as such a shock to both he and Sherlock. Poor Mrs Hudson, they were on their way back from a case when they saw the police cars parked outside their flat. He immediately thought one of Sherlock's experiments had blown up again, until he saw the ambulance that is. "A heart attack?" he heard Sherlock ask as he watched the paramedics wheel the body out of the flat and into the back of the ambulance. He felt his eyes start to water. He had grown very fond of Mrs Hudson, always making them tea and looking after them like a concerned grandmother would. He knew Sherlock was pained as well, his face kept the same cold exterior as always but there was something in his eyes… Remorse? Sherlock wasn't heartless, no matter what people thought. He's simply a high-functioning sociopath and John guessed they showed their feeling a bit differently...

"John?" He snapped out of his train of thought and looked at Sherlock.

"What?"

"You're crying."

John touched the side of his face and felt that his cheek was moist.

"Yes Sherlock I am, we're on our way to the funeral of a woman that I- we, both have grown very close to and-"

"What about our flat?"

"What?" John couldn't believe what he was hearing… well actually he could.

"Our flat, John" Sherlock replied with an annoyed look. "Mrs Hudson's sons live in Liverpool and America and I highly doubt either of them will drop everything to come and take over the building. And she didn't leave it to us, I took a look at her will."

"Why did she show you her will?"

"She didn't. It wasn't hard to figure out where she put it. She left it to her eldest son Harry, the one living in America. Its probably going to end up being sold then our rent is going to skyrocket, oh why did she have to go and have herself a heart attack" He crossed his arms and sunk into the cab's seat.

John rolled his eyes.

"OH!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"What?"

"Oh yes, brilliant."

"What, Sherlock?"

"Why didn't I think if that before?

"WHAT SHERLOCK!"

"We can forge her will John, we can have the building."

John stared at him blankly as the cap pulled to a stop in front of the church.

"No Sherlock" He answered getting out of the cab and paying the cabbie.

"But imagine the money we'll save-"

"No Sherlock we are not forging that poor woman's will. End of story."

Sherlock decided this was neither the time nor place for an ethical debate so he sulked behind John, defeated, and climbed to steps to the chapel.

The funeral was simple and sweet. Apart from John having to scold Sherlock for texting during the opening prayer; it went by rather smoothly. The grey sky had somewhat cleared up allowing sunlight to shine through the stained glass windows and leave colourful patterns on the church floor and pews. John caught a whiff of the peach roses by the casket as he got up to give his condolences to the family, a pleasant aroma compared to the musky sent that hung in the air of the church. Sherlock rather liked the musky smell, it reminded him of his fathers study when he was a boy. He was never allowed to enter that room but once in a while he would sneak in just to sit on the window seat and watch the dust particles dance in the sunbeams coming through the window.

John had disappeared among the small crowd of family and friends leaving Sherlock to walk along the cold, stone, wall that made up the interior of the church. He came across a picture of a very young looking Mrs Hudson. She was an attractive young woman, from her teeth he was able to deduce she was 24 at the time, married for 3 years by the condition of her wedding ring, and already having problems in her marriage by the way she was standing in a somewhat defensive position, adjacent to her husband.

"Wasn't she gorgeous?" Asked a voice from behind him. Sherlock turned to see a young woman. She was tall, however not overly so. Her emerald green eyes stood out against her light olive skin and her curly and slightly unruly hair created a somewhat whimsical air about her.

"Hardly, She was fair at most I suppose" He answered, immediately realizing that was probably the wrong thing to say. As much as he hated to admit it one thing that his brother, Mycroft could do that he couldn't was have civil conversations with people without the outcome of getting slapped, being told to piss off or, more recently, getting hit over the head with a bag of shopping. Sherlock braced himself, half-expecting some foreign object to be colliding with his face at any moment.

However there she stood, with somewhat calculating eyes of her own and a slight mischievous grin playing on her lips.

" AH, Sherlock Holmes I presume"

"Indeed." Sherlock answered furrowing his eyebrows. "And who might you be?"

"Oh, c'mon. I thought you'd be able to tell"

"I'm a detective not a physic. Lets see... Your obviously American, western states, Californian to be exact. You are of middle eastern decent, only from one patent however. You've been traveling for the past 8 months, starting on your 20th birthday, last stop before England being Greece. You were close to Mrs Hudson... close enough to know about her tenants anyway-"

"Sherlock! There you are." Interrupted a rather out of breath John.

Sherlock glanced at the mobile in John's hand. He had just received a call. From Detective Inspector Lestrade it seemed.

"Oh lovely a murder." Sherlock exclaimed, his face brightening immediately. "Its about time."

"A double homicide near Paternoster Square and you're needed immediately- Oh hello" He added noticing the young woman for the first time. "John Watson"

"Yasim Hudson" She replied, taking his outstretched hand.

"Granddaughter! Of course! Harry is your father." Exclaimed Sherlock smacking his forehead. "I thought I recognized your earlobes. Your Grandmother had the exact same shape."

Yasim touched her ear and gave Sherlock a confused look.

"You get used to it after a while." John told her smirking. "Just be glad you don't have to live with him."

"Shed better get used to it, as we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Now it was John's turn to give Sherlock a confused look.

"Really now John use your head." He gave Yasim a knowing glance. "You're looking at our new landlady."

A/N- Ok so this is my first Sherlock fan fic ever... well my first fan fic ever... well the first thing Ive ever written... period. So PLEASE give me some criticism for i haven't a clue what I'm doing. Also I'm American so if i say something that you normally don't say in the UK let me know. Im going to continue this based on the comments that i get so if you do want me on continue by all means say so, however if you didn't like it then feel free to hate as well.

P.S Who knows where i got Yasim's name from? =D