I stared hard at the gold numbers that glittered mockingly in the sunlight. The knocker that adorned the black door was crooked and my hand itched to grab it and fix it. The chill was biting at my cheeks and I looked up and down the street. There were few passersby and I felt awkward, standing outside the black door like a lost puppy. Behind this door I knew he would be standing, probably ranting about something that nobody knew anything about, pacing in his house robe or pouting in the corner or over some experiments. I sighed.

It had taken me less than a day to track him down. His address was publicly known and a quick search of his name gave me his website. I had expected to call in Mycroft to help, but he had made it far too easy. So here I was, standing in front of 221B Baker Street taking deep breaths.

My hand reached for the door and I turned it, knowing there was no going back now. If I just barged in then he couldn't hide from me, and I'm sure he wouldn't really mind. I stared at the steps that led up to another door, where I could hear raised voices and sighed, knowing that was where I would find him.

My mind was screaming for me to run back, hide and just forget about every contacting the man, but my body was telling me otherwise. I paused and listened to the muffled shouting and prayed I wouldn't get shot for coming in uninvited. Pushing the door open I came face to face with Sherlock Holmes.

Well, it was more face to back really. Standing inside of the shambles of an apartment I saw a shorter man with blonde hair and leaning on a cane, his face red with fury as he paused his shouting and stood up straighter looking at me with pure confusion.

"Uhm, excuse me..." He started baffled. I held up my hand and shook my head.

"Don't." I said simple and watched at Sherlock's back stiffened and his breathing changed. The other man looked at me curiously then as Sherlock who hadn't stopped staring at. His black curls in a mess atop his head.

"Darcy." I heard his deep baritone voice say as he turned around slowly, fiddling with the edges of his blue robe. His eyes met mine and I felt my heart jump, my insides melt and my breathing stop.

"Sherlock." I said with all the courage I could muster. I walked passed him and towards the mantel where I saw a human skull among a pile of junk. I picked it up and stared at the empty eyes, trying to control my breathing.

"Sorry, hang on." the shorter man began, the fury gone from his voice. "Who the bloody hell are you?" He asked. I sighed and turned to face them tossing the skull from one hand to the other.

"Darcy, Darcy Holmes. Nice to meet you, Mr?" I said smiling at him.

"Oh, uhm Watson, John Watson." He replied before turning back towards Sherlock. "Is this yet another deranged sibling I need to know about?" He asked Sherlock accusingly. Sherlock sighed loudly and plopped onto the couch and ruffled his curls. I stifled a laugh and shook my head at John.

"No need to worry, I'm perfectly normal." I said waving.

"What are you doing here, Darcy?" Sherlock asked, looking up at me, analyzing my clothes, hair, skin, anything that could tell him what I was up to. "I'm a busy man." He said with a huff.

"What on earth could you be busy with. Clearly you don't have a case, you aren't wearing your scarf." I shot at him, earning a glare from Sherlock and a snort from John.

"Don't tease, darling, it's rather rude." Sherlock spat back. I walked over to one of the chairs and made myself comfortable. John opened his mouth several times like a fish before settling on closed and taking a seat as well.

"Oh I know, dear. But if you had a case you'd be on your back muttering nonsense to an empty room." I said, and John barked a laugh but quickly covered it with a cough with the glare Sherlock sent his way.

"Sorry." He muttered. "Uhm, just who are you, exactly?" John asked giving me a once over.

"Nobody of importance." Sherlock quickly answered shooting me a look. I glared at him.

"What's that supposed to mean!" I shouted at the infuriating man.

"Sherlock!" John scolded.

"Did Mycroft send you?" Sherlock asked ignoring John. "Keep an eye on me? Distract me?" Sherlock shot off. I groaned and stood up walking towards a nearby harpoon.

"No, I came on my own." I said truthfully. His eyes widened slightly before he glanced over to the open door.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted causing me to jump.

"Jesus, no need to fucking shout." I chastised. Sherlock leaped from the couch and walked to the door as I saw an elderly woman come up the stairs.

Sherlock began to ruffled papers and scan the room intensely. John groaned and turned on his roomate.

"Come on Sherlock, don't give up now, you've been doing so well." I watched the mad man toss more things around before turning on the elderly woman who had just entered.

"My secret supply, what have you done with my secret supply?" Sherlock asked the woman, slightly frantically. Mrs. Hudson stood in shock and stared about the room, trying to catch up, she glanced quickly at me then back to the mad man.

"What?" She asked.

"Cigarette!" Sherlock shouted exasperated. "What have you done with them, where are they?" He asked again. I sighed and stood back watching his mad scramble for some nicotine. I smirked, took only 11 minutes for him to lose his cool.

"You never let me touch your things!" She shouted at the man, looking around at the mess with a grimace on her face. "Oh, chance would be a nice thing." She muttered as Sherlock rounded on her once again.

"I thought you weren't my housekeeper." He shout back mockingly.

Mrs. Hudson huffed and walked over to me with a charming smile offereing her hand. "Hello dear, I'm Mrs. Hudson the landlady here, terribly sorry about Sherlock." She turned back to the crazy man. "Would you like a nice cuppa." I tried my best to smile as I looked at the three of them and silently wished I had stayed in Ireland. Sherlock walked towards the harpoon in the corner and quickly spun around with it aimed at her.

"I need something stronger than tea!" He argued. Mrs. Hudson flinched at the sight of the sharp object directed at her. "Seven percent stronger!" Then I saw it, the gleam. Oh god.

"Sherlock, babe, stop." I said holding a hand out to him. He shot me a short glare.

"You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee tonight." And so it began. I groaned and fell back onto the couch sharing a look with John who looked like he wanted to throttle the man.

"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't wear a new dress for baking." Sherlock began. John sighed and looked over at Sherlock.

"Sherlock..." He warned but the mad man kept going.

"Thumbnail, traces of tin foil. Been at the scratch cards again." Sherlock accused. "You know how that goes." Sherlock walked towards her and took a deep breath.

"Kasbah Nights. Pretty risque first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree." A look of shock went across Mrs. Hudson's face. "I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee, he's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about." Sherlock paused for a moment. "Well, nobody but me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't." She finally said with a watery voice. She turned to me with as much dignity as she could muster and smiled. "It was nice meeting you." with that Mrs. Hudson was out the door. I turned towards Sherlock who looked smug, and gave him a death glare.

"William. Sherlock. Scott. Holmes." I ground out, marching towards him. A look of fear flashed across his face. John was purple with anger as he turned to Sherlock as well. "Bedroom. Now." I demanded. He opened his mouth to protest but I held up a hand, instantly shushing him. I spun around and marched to what I assumed would be the bedroom, not really caring whose it was at the moment. I heard the shuffling of steps and knew Sherlock was following me.

At the sound of him closing the door behind me I turned on him. I was momentarily speechless when I saw him and personal. His eyes were intense, staring me down. I wanted to count each hair on his head and touch every inch of his face.

"You are the RUDEST, most.. most..You're an asshole, Sherlock. Do you know that?" I screeched at him. He shrunk back slightly when I took a step forward.

"Now, Darcy-" He began.

"I don't know about you, Mr. High and Mighty, but where I come from you FUCKING RESPECT your elders, you don't go deducing them, in front of STRANGERS no less!" Sherlock opened his mouth again. "DO NOT." I shrieked. "Now, you are going to march your sorry ass down there and apologize. Yes, Mr. Holmes, you are apologizing, your ego can take it. And when you get back, you and I are going to have a nice long fucking talk about why I am here. Do you understand?" I questioned daring him to defy me.

"Oh, Darcy. I already know why you are here." He countered exiting the room with a flourish. I walked out right behind him and caught the amused look on John's face.

"I am so, so sorry John. I wish he wasn't such an asshole." I said walking over to him. "But, lets start over." I cleared my throat. "I am Darcy, nice to meet you." I offered him my hand wich he took and gave a gentle shake.

"Dr. John Watson." I raised my eyebrow, hmm a doctor. I looked over at Sherlock who was laying face first into the couch, pouting no less. "Never seen anyone give Sherlock a scolding like you just did. You must be a remarkable woman." John complimented.

"I just have practice." I said. Suddenly a knocking came from the door, Sherlock perked up and John turned interested.

"A client." The both said excitedly.

"A what?" I asked looking at both of them and at the door.