You pulled yourself out of your nice, warm, comfortable bed and trudged into the kitchen. You stretched and yawned as you exited your bedroom. You opened the fridge door and peered inside. There was a ton of food inside but none of it seemed all that appetizing to you at the moment. You sighed and grabbed the cereal. You poured some into a bowl and walked to the living room as you ate. You grabbed the remote from the table and turned on the TV. The news started playing and you left it, not really caring. The reporter spoke about all the occurring events but none of it seemed interesting. One story seemed to catch your attention. It was about some Chinese gang that was caught after killing, stealing, and other such stuff. Detective Inspector Lestrade was given credit but he said that he owed it to one of his friends whose name was Sherlock Holmes. You'd heard the name before but you couldn't seem to place it. You grabbed your laptop and searched him up. It said that he lived on a street called Baker Street. You decided that maybe you'd just take a walk by just for fun.
You got up from your seat and went to your room to get changed. You threw on a comfortable outfit and exited the bedroom. You then proceeded to finish getting ready for the day. You grabbed your purse and slung it over your shoulder. You walked out the door and caught a cab just before it passed. You got in and told him to take you to Scotland Yard. You watched all the buildings pass as the cab drove on. Once you arrived you got out and walked inside. As you stepped inside it seemed as if a lightbulb went off inside your head. Mostly because you saw him standing in Lestrade's office. Sherlock Holmes was that "consulting detective" that Lestrade always called on when he needed help. Which was always. You felt stupid for not getting it immediately but you just blamed the tiredness.
You sighed and went to your desk. You sat down and looked at all the things you had to go through. You heard the door of Lestrade's office open and a few words were exchanged. Sherlock rushed past and someone else that you hadn't really seen before. Or...you thought.
The day went along slowly until finally your shift ended. You sighed in relief and got up to leave. You were stopped however, by Anderson.
"Shift done, y/n?" He asked
"Wow you really are dumb." You commented.
"Ignoring that. Would you like to, maybe-"
"Nope." You answered before he could finish and pushed by him.
You hailed a taxi and climbed in before Phillip could catch up to you. You were so glad when you got home to just lay around doing nothing.
***
The next day you did just about the same things. Except today, you got a call from Lestrade to meet him down at Baker Street. You told him that you'd be there as fast as you could. You rushed out the door and set your location to Baker Street. You nearly jumped out of the cab when you arrived and rushed over to Greg.
"What was it? What happened?" You asked panting.
"Ah, it was just a false alarm. Gas leak as it would seem." He informed you.
"A gas leak." You repeated.
"Yeah."
"You made me come all the way down here for a gas leak?!" You asked.
"Well I only just found out. If I had known sooner I would've told you but...well here you are." He explained.
"Right. Okay. I'm gonna be waiting over there. Come get me when you're ready to take me down to Scotland Yard." You said walking over to the cafe across the street.
222B was the flat right next door. Sherlock Holmes' flat. You just stood there looking at the door, but lost in your own little world. You snapped out of it when someone rushed past you.
"Excuse me." A familiar voice said as he passed.
You stared after him as he rushed into 221B. You couldn't believe your eyes. You quickly walked up to the door and knocked. An elderly lady answered the door.
"Oh! Hello, dearie!" She greeted you with a smile.
"Hi! Umm, does someone live here that goes by the name John Watson?" You asked.
"Yes. Just go right up the steps." She informed you.
"Thank you." You said and went inside.
As you climbed up, a man exited the flat and made his way down the stairs. You immediately recognized him.
"Y/n." He said as he passed.
"Mycroft." You said in the same tone.
You knocked on the flat door and awaited an answer. You heard a "come in" from inside and pushed the door open. You entered and stared at your oldest friend. Your heart was racing and the butterflies in your stomach had increased rapidly.
"Are you alright, y/n?" Sherlock asked.
John turned around and his eyes locked with yours. You never felt happier in your life.
"John?" You asked.
"Yes?" He responded almost unsure.
"Oh my word! It's you! It's really you!" You repeated.
"Sorry, do I know you?" He asked.
You stared at him with a confused expression on your face. Almost as confused as his.
"John. You are John Watson, are you not?" You asked.
"Yes."
"John Hamish Watson?"
"Okay! What's going on here?" He asked, nearly shouting.
"I was going to ask the same thing." You said tears threatening to fall. "John, you don't remember me?" You asked.
"I'm afraid not." He responded.
You lowered yourself onto the couch and stared at the floor. John Watson was your best friend and boyfriend. He had gone to Afghanistan for a little and promised to call you when he got out.
"What happened to you in Afghanistan?"