The Blonde


Rose opened the door to 221B and was greeted by a very upset Mrs. Hudson who rushed over to her the moment she stepped inside.

"I was out when it happened. Had to run by the market. I have no idea who could've done it," the older woman ranted.

"What happened?" Rose asked.

"It's your flat. Someone's broken in. The door's off its frame. I peeked inside. It's…it's…I'm so sorry. I'm sure I locked up, but the front door wasn't forced…"

Rose's first instinct was to rush down to her flat and assess the damage, but she couldn't leave Mrs. Hudson. Not as upset as she was.

"Did you put the kettle on?" Rose asked.

"Sorry…what?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

She put her arm around her landlady and began to lead her toward her own door.

"My mum always said a cuppa tea makes a world of difference."

Mrs. Hudson looked at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"But…your flat."

"Isn't going anywhere."

People were more important than things. Things could be replaced. Except…for a moment she couldn't breathe as she remembered something. Something in her flat that couldn't be replaced. She forced the feeling aside as she led Mrs. Hudson inside. Priorities.

After sitting her at the table Rose put the kettle on and then pulled two cups from the cupboard.

"I'm being silly. Getting myself all worked up and it's your flat. I'm sorry," her landlady said.

"Nothing silly about it. It might be my flat, but someone broke into your building."

"At least I kept my head long enough to phone Sherlock."

"Sherlock? Not the police?" she asked.

Not that she wanted the police trampling around her flat because she had a pretty good idea who broke in and if she was right the police wouldn't be able to find him.

"Oh, no, last time they were here they made a ruddy mess of things. Come to think of it the time before that they nearly destroyed Sherlock's flat when they were searching it."

Searching his flat? She was going to ask Mrs. Hudson about it when the kettle boiled. So, instead she poured them each a cup.

If Mrs. Hudson phoned Sherlock it wouldn't be long before he returned to poke around her flat for clues. Great! She needed to get down there and look around first.

"Better?" she asked, handing Mrs. Hudson a cup.

"Yes. Thank you, Rose. You're a dear." Mrs. Hudson took a drink. "I'm all right now. If you want to go have a look that's fine. You can take the cup. I'll collect it later."

"Thanks," Rose said, giving her a smile before heading out the door.

She would've stayed longer, but she had to see if it was still there. She walked down the stairs and the moment her eyes fell on the doorway she realized why Mrs. Hudson had been so upset.

The door was open, hanging by one hinge. She could see into her flat and disaster didn't even begin to cover what she saw. There were clothes strewn across the room. She stepped inside. Her furniture was upended, all the cushions removed. The kitchen was a nightmare of pulled out drawers, silverware dumped on the floor, dishes pulled out, some broken, pots removed from the cupboards. The refrigerator was open and had obviously been searched. What the hell were they looking for that they thought they'd find in there?

She walked into her room and found the same disaster with the exception of two things. A red coat and a blouse hanging in her closet. She was right. Whether he'd actually been there or not she couldn't say, but Moriarty was definitely behind it.

Her side table was knocked over. She searched the floor, but couldn't find what she was looking for. She bent down and searched under the bed. Nothing. She picked up the side table hoping it was hiding underneath. Nothing. Desperation gripped her chest. Frantically she tore through the disaster. It had to be there. Please let it be there.

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

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