Well, this is an attempt at writing a story about the brilliant, enigmatic and charming Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I might continue, if interest is shown. (Then again, I might continue anyway.).((Yeah, I probably will)). Anyway, let's just see where this goes shall we?

Enjoy!

It was eight a clock in the morning on Saturday the 21st of August when Mrs. Hunter opened the door to her daughter's bedroom, only to find it utterly devoid of said person. The room itself looked empty without the young woman in it, it barely looked lived in. Only the sheets looked slightly disturbed, proving that she had in fact slept in it that night.

Mrs. Hunter closed the door and headed for the only other place her daughter ever occupied. And there she was, huddled up in her father's old chair in front of the library fireplace, dressed in only an oversized shirt and her maroon morning robe. As Mrs. Hunter came closer she saw that her daughter was reading a pamphlet of some sorts.

"Good morning mother." Came the soft and composed greeting from behind the high backed chair and Mrs. Hunter sighed irritably.

" You missed breakfast again Grace."

" No, I think you will find that I did not." A hand appeared to point to the tray which had obviously carried breakfast earlier that morning. Mrs. Hunter sighed for the second time that morning.

" That is not what I meant Grace, and you know it. You didn't come down to have breakfast with me and your father."

" I talked to father already about this, I said I wanted to spend the morning in the library and he approved. So, I spent the morning here. I did not wish to wait!"

"But it is a matter of principle! You should have breakfast with your mother and father every morning at seven, as you always have!" Grace had still not put down the pamphlet, and Mrs. Hunter watched her turn to the next page, apparently still reading.

" Mother it is only breakfast. I don't understand why you make such a big affair of it. " Mrs. Hunter was now practically huffing about the room like an irritated queen bee.

" But if you cannot be punctual and upkeep standard habits in a household, how are you ever supposed to find a husband?! " Mrs. Hunter had always been very keen on finding her daughter a husband, one of good quality and stature, and since Grace had been breaking up habits around the house the last two months Mrs. Hunter was worried.

Her daughter needed schooling, or some form of training at least, if she was ever to be presentable in important society. Problem was that in all other forms of information Grace was very well informed, even if the more interesting subjects (like anatomy for example) were kept a secret from her mother. So to send her to a normal school or even a nunnery would be a complete waste of time and funding. She had of course all the trademark skills of a young woman, such as embroidery, cooking, cleaning, but nothing that required organizing. No, Grace Hunter needed schooling of another kind. She needed to learn how to take care of a household.

It was now that Grace noticed her mother had been quiet for several minutes and, curious of what she was up to, turned her head to look upon her just in time to see a pleased smile appear on her mother's face. The kind of smile that showed that she had just had what she thought was a 'good idea' but which almost always ended badly for Grace, like when she came up with the idea to send Grace to the tailor's to get her first properly corseted dress. A bloody murder of a dress that proved to be! Mrs. Hunter had just had a wonderful awful and with all likelihood very domestic idea, and it almost certainly involved Grace.

A few days later her mother found her again, jamming a letter from her sister Mrs. Hudson in her hand, telling her to pack her bags. Sifting through the letter she quickly found out that her mother had set her up to act as housekeeper in an apartment in central London while Mrs. Hudson took a small vacation. One of the lodgers was apparently very troublesome indeed and it had worn on Mrs. Hudson's nerves. So while she recovered Grace would step in, with all certainty at the result of her scheming mother. Grace Hunter sighed and rose from her spot in the library window, walking begrudgingly up the stairs to her room wile thinking sarcastically, 'Well, 221b Baker Street here I come'

It was only the next day when Grace found herself stood outside the black door to 221b Baker street, her belongings at her feet packed neatly into navy blue bags. Her forest green dress felt foreign on her body as she had not worn it in some time, Grace was not what one would call a social butterfly. She had few friends, and even fewer that she would trust with any secrets.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening to reveal her aunt, a warm smile on her face which Grace returned in full. Mrs. Hudson was a lady of caliber and strength, and at the same time a very gentle woman. Grace liked her.

"Come on in dear, I'm so happy you are here! Let me just call Dr. Watson down to help with the bags." Mrs. Hudson moved towards the stairs but Grace stopped her. " Oh no, there's really no need to disturb him, aunt. I can carry the bags through the door myself." Grace almost laughed at the look on Mrs. Hudson's face but managed to conceal it as she went out to gather the bags. As she picked them up she looked up towards the windows above her, but very little was visible through the thin white curtains. She was about to head back inside when her eyes caught movement and she was certain she was the curtains of the right hand corner move, but when she looked closer they were completely still.

She was led up the stairs to the third floor, through a plain wooden door and into a wonderful bedroom." I am so very glad to see you Grace! I haven't seen you in years! " Mrs. Hudson took a step back, inspecting her niece. " Though you do look a little tense. "

" It is wonderful to see you as well aunt, you look very well. And I am merely tired from the journey, nothing to be concerned about." In truth her whole body was taut with tension, she never wore corsets and her body was unused to the constricting construction around her midriff. It pressed her ribs in a painful manner and since her mother had tightened it herself Gace was sure that it was tight enough to leave her poor bones bruised by the end of the day. Luckily for Grace her mother wouldn't be around to supervise her dress code while she was at 221b Baker Street. " I am curious aunt, the address 221b Baker Street sounded vaguely familiar when I read your letter. Why would that be? " Mrs. Hudson turned away from the curtains she had been correcting and looked at her with an expression of surprise, before she chuckled at herself.

" I'm very sorry my dear, I hardly meet anyone nowadays that Doesn't know of the address 221b Baker Street so you rather surprised me. Oh it is nothing to be ashamed of not knowing my dear, I hardly expect you to be involved in any trouble that would lead you here. You see, one of my tenants has a talent for solving other people's puzzles. He helps them you see, with their troubles. He makes a living out of it. " Grace's eyebrows shot up.

" A form of detective? How intriguing!" Mrs. Hudson giggled at her expression.

" Oh you won't be saying that once you've met him. He can be most insufferable. "

The rest of the afternoon consisted of Mrs. Hudson showing Grace around her home for the next few months, giving her directions of her duties. They weren't that many, mostly cleaning, cooking and keeping a general order around the place. She would have a decent amount of free time if she worked effectively.

As they were sitting in the kitchen catching up a few hours later they heard the door open and close, one pair of footsteps entering the building. Mrs. Hudson rose with a smile, rising the greet the man.

" Good evening Mrs. Hudson! Foul weather we're having. "

" Good evening Dr. Watson. Do you remember the young woman I was spoke to you about yesterday? This is my niece, Miss. Grace Hunter. " At her cue Grace entered the hall to see a man with an impressive moustache, a wet hat and coat that Mrs. Hudson took from him and a cane in his hand. He had muddy shoes that left wet marks on the rug, and Grace saw that his posture was excellent except for his left shoulder which was slightly bent inwards, most likely due to an old injury. He had soft yet steady eyes, a sort of warmth emanating from him, and judging by his title he was a doctor. Grace decided she liked him already and smiled and extended a hand. Watson shook it, slightly surprised by the firm grip that met him.

" It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Watson. " He smiled back, his expression showing his teeth, reminding Grace of a happy dog.

" Likewise Miss. Hunter! " He turned to Mrs. Hudson. " Has she met Him yet?" Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

" No not yet. I was not sure if he was in today." Grace looked between them, confusion resting on her pale face.

" Met who, if I may ask, aunt?" Watson looked up the stairs towards the only door she had yet to enter.

" My second lodger, dear. "

" Oh! The detective?" Watson disappeared up the stairs, knocking could be heard.

" Holmes?" Grace could hear no sound and Watson could be heard opening the door and then he shouted back down. " You appear to be correct Mrs. Hudson! He's not here. " Her aunt seemed to relax slightly and she gestured for Grace to follow Watson.

" Go ahead. " Her aunt disappeared back into the kitchen.

Grace carefully stepped into the room, jaw almost dropping form the mess that met her. Papers were scattered EVERYWHERE, the chalkboard were covered in English letter and some foreign scribbles that Grace didn't recognize at all. Taking another step in she saw the chemistry set on the table, a purple liquid bubbling in one of the test tubes. A pipe and tobacco along with a Stradivarius lay on a very comfortable looking chair. She stepped over to the violin, running her fingers over the wood gently before turning to look at the opposite wall. A bookcase and another small desk met her and Watson walked around, picking up the papers, putting them into neat stacks on the dining table.

" I apologize for the mess, Miss. Hunter, my friend can be a little eccentric when he's in one of his moods. " She smiled at him, clearly amused and at the same time intrigued.

" It is quite alright doctor, I myself can be somewhat untidy when left to my own devices. " Watson chuckled at this.

The evening passed quietly, having dinner with her aunt and then some tea with Watson, Grace could see herself settling in quite nicely. When both Mrs. Hudson and Watson had gone to bed Grace changed into her sleep clothes, no not a nightgown, heavens no! The wretched things always tangled with her legs. No, Grace wore soft cotton pants and an oversized shirt that belonged to her father. She quietly tip toed down the stairs to the living room, which Watson had told her was adjacent to the other tenant's, this 'Holmes's' room. She entered and looked around, still very curious of the room but now that no one was watching her she could properly look around. For about twenty minutes Grace explored the room and all the little peculiar details in it. It was really...lived in.

Her gaze once more fell on the Stradivarius, a deep longing making her fingers itch to pick it up. She hadn't played the violin in some time now but she remembered the compliments her teacher, Mrs. Fairfax, used to give her. 'I can't be that bad at playing so it won't be horrible if I wake anyone up.' Giving in Grace closed the door behind her and picked the violin up, playing a few hesitant notes at first before settling on a soft lulling melody so as to avoid the risk of waking anyone up. The music flowed better and better and Grace closed her eyes in bliss, unknowing of the tall figure that had silently opened the door and was watching the young lady who stood in the light of the moon, playing his Stradivarius. For a few minutes nothing could be heard but the soft lilting notes of what sounded like an Irish lullaby and then silence. Until it was broken by a clear and steady voice speaking softly so as not to awaken Watson who slept just one floor above.

" It is customary to ask permission before using a fellow musician's instrument, is it not?" Grace whirled around and would have screamed in shock had a hand not clamped down over her lips in just that moment. A pair of eyes stared into hers intensely and she would have dropped the violin when she saw the raw intelligence in those eyes if he had not grabbed it, long thin fingers tightening over her own. They were cold. 'He must have just come in from outside.' " I must apologize, my dear lady. I did not realize what effect my comment would have." He spoke quietly still, and Grace finally came back to herself enough to take a step back, his hand removing itself from her mouth in the process.

" The fault is mine, I should not have snuck in at such a time merely to play someone else's violin. It is your instrument then?" She thought she saw his lips twitch in a fleeting smile but she couldn't be certain in the dim light. She arched a delicate eyebrow. In this light she could only see parts of his face, the light of the now covered moon much too faint for details. He looked thin, with prominent cheekbones and thin lips.

His eyes passed over her form, down and up once, fleetingly but Grace got the sense that there was more to that calculative gaze than what appeared at first glance. His hand, still holding hers and the violin, tilted it to the side and supported the end of it so that it lay vertically in their hands. Something was running down his left arm, soon to reach his wrist. 'It is too dark to be rain water. Is it...blood?!' Grace was about to inquire but the man was quicker.

" Yes, it is. " He abruptly removed the violin and the stroke from her hands so swiftly the Grace had no time to object. " Now, miss, I would recommend that you leave for you bed and I shall attempt to do the same. " He disappeared into the adjoining room and vanished into the shadows, taking the lovely Stradivarius with him, the door closing behind him. The man had entered and left like a cold breeze, leaving Grace shivering in the empty room which now seemed eerie for some had he meant? "Yes, it is." had he known that she was about to ask about the blood'it had to be blood, no other liquid flowed in such a manner' or was he simply answering her question?

She hurried out and up the stairs, only breathing calmly again when the door to her room closer and the comforter reached her chin. Normally she was never this skittish but the man had effectively ruffled her feathers and an unsettled feeling resided now in her stomach. She fell asleep, dreaming of cold grey eyes with flecks of green in them.