Alright, here we go, I've only recently become a part of the Sherlock Fandom so you old timers gotta tell me how I'm doing, if anything needs to be changed or perfected or if I should just trash the story all together. You gotta let me know. Hopefully though, you'll like it.

Kay, regular thing, I own nothing from the Sherlock franchise. I own only Moira and even there, I'm starting to think she wants to start a mutiny.

So here we go, my lovlies.

Enjoy

Paddington station was crowded, as it was everyday at this time. Lunch time, who would have thought it? I stepped gingerly off the packed train with my luggage, two large briefcases, and strolled over to a bench, where I placed my bags and stopped to tie my laces.

I pushed my blonde hair out of my face and stared down at my trainers with my forest green eyes. I was waiting for the arrival of someone important and what better way to pass the time then to do something that doesn't really need doing? Oh damn, there's a knot in this one. How'd that get there?

"Moira!" a voice cried over the shouting British folk. I turned quickly, nearly falling over, and a grin formed on my face as I made out the figure of my brother shoving his way towards me.

"John!" I cried back, leaving my bags and running to him. I pushed some poor bloke to the floor and jumped on John, who wobbled slightly but stood firm.

"Jesus, you're gonna take out my back." he laughed.

"And I'll stand over your poor, broken ol' body with pride!" I giggled, resting my head on top of his. "Now take me home."

"Oh no, you can walk yourself." and in one quick second, I was on the floor, grinning at the retreating form of my brother as he went to get my bags. I picked myself off the ground and was just about to go over to John when I saw him.

He was tall with curly black hair and wore a long black trench coat with his collar up and his cheek bones protruded on his face. They were really out there, weren't they, you could butter toast with those things.

"With what?" John asked, walking back with my briefcases in hand. I blushed and looked down at my feet.

"Nothing."

"You should really work on making your thoughts stay thoughts." he hollered back at me as he continued walking. It seemed we were headed straight for cheek bones over there.

I followed John silently, gazing at all the different types of people around the station. I caught two politicians, five drunken college students and someone with a parrot. I didn't even notice that John had stopped until I slammed into him.

"Christ Moira," he chuckled. "Not one second in London and you're already gone."

"You know me, John, can't stay in one place too long."

"Oh I remember, got me into a lot of trouble, that little quirk of yours. Now come on, I've got someone I want you to meet."

I was a tad shorter than my brother, which made me very short indeed, so I had to run to catch up with him. Curse him and the way the army taught him to fast walk. And that little thing about London?

Well until recently, I have been living in a small village called Elton. Nice there, but I thought I'd try London, just for a bit. So I packed up, leaving my house under the watchful eye of my neighbor that has a rifle and headed off.

You could say I was looking for a summer home, except I wasn't. I just needed to get away from everything for a while, a long while perhaps; perhaps I wouldn't even go back, who knows?

We finally reached the tall man and John stopped in front of him, putting the cases on the ground.

"Moira, this is my friend Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is my sister, Moira."

I looked up at him, suddenly feeling even shorter than before, and hesitantly smiled, sticking my hand out.

"Moira Watson pleased to meet you."

He glanced down at my hand with a look of disgust before looking back at me with a blatantly false smile.

"Pleasure I'm sure."

All the evil I could conjure from my tiny body went into the glare I sent him. The smile slipped from his face and his brows furrowed in slight confusion.

"Right, come on, cab's waiting." John said hurriedly, picking up my bags and walking towards the exit. Sherlock quickly fell into step with him leaving me to trail behind.

"I don't think she likes me." I heard Sherlock whisper.

"I wonder why." John whispered back. I just grinned.

John threw the bags into the trunk and we all climbed into the cab, first me then John then Sherlock. I was glad about this because I didn't have to sit next to the human bread knife.

"Human bread knife!?" Holmes screeched. Well, it was the closest sound to a screech a man could make and I was suddenly even more thankful that John sat between the two of us.

The drive was silent but I could see Holmes' fingers twitching on his knee out of the corner of my eye. It was annoying me to the high heavens and I was very close to just ripping his fingers off.

"A librarian." he stated so suddenly that I was taken aback.

"Pardon?"

"Not now Sherlock."

"You're a librarian." he said again, completely ignoring John and shifting in his seat so he was facing me.

"Yes, how did you-"

"The way you speak your thoughts without noticing suggests that you work in a place where you do not have much interaction with others. This also implies that you have no social life, no friends or companions, your only relations here in London."

"Sherlock-"

"And the state of your hands-"

"What's wrong with my hands!?" I barked. He fixed me with a weary glare.

"They're rough and splintered from where you've been stacking books all day. Bet you've slipped once or twice, splintering your hands on the wood of the shelves."

I was quiet for a second, examining my hands.

"I could be a lumberjack."

There was that glare again.

"There is also a faint smell of old books emanating from your clothes. One last quick job before you left this morning? Like your job, do you? Of course you do, you hate to see someone else doing your work which means you have trust matters."

"Alright-"

"And the way you handled yourself in the station, you have your guard up but you try to hide it, why? The after effects of a dishonest lover, perhaps?"

"Sherlock-"

"Is that why you came here, now? You just couldn't stand living in the same place as the one who had hurt you so much. So you decided to come here, to stay with your brother, the soldier, where you knew you'd be safe, where you knew big bad Captain Watson would protect you. Am I wrong?"

There was silence in the cab, a long awkward silence in which I shut my eyes and mindlessly stroked the handle of the door.

"Oh so, you're starting to have second thoughts? It's either me or your boyfriend in-"

"It's you." I stated harshly, turning to glare at him.

The cabbie pulled up in front of a little café connected to a larger building. I stepped out of the cab and went to the trunk, opening it and taking out my bags. John took one of them and began walking to one of the doors. I past Sherlock as I followed John and stopped, fixing him with calm but firm look.

"Know your limits Mr. Holmes."

I left him there, while he looked terribly at a loss for words, and skipped up the steps after John.

"Mrs. Hudson?" John called when we entered the flat. An elderly lady came bounding down the stairs over to us and wrapped John in a hug.

"Hello dear," she looked up to me and smiled, "and who's this?"

"Uh, Mrs. H, this is my sister."

"Moira Watson, ma'am." I said, sticking out my hand.

"Oh we'll have none of that." she beamed and enveloped me in a hug of my own, causing me to laugh.

"Right, I've got your room all set up in 221C, come on now, and follow me."

We left the flat and the moment the door shut, I could hear the raised voice of my brother, no doubt chewing out Sherlock, at this thought I smiled again. We entered another flat, a tad grayer and…older, but it had promise.

"You'll have to excuse the state of the place, haven't been able to rent it out in a while due to the damp."

"I'm sure I'll be able to fix it up." I said as I put my cases down and stared around. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"Now remember dear," she called as she turned to leave. "I am your landlady, not your housekeeper. Had to remind your brother of that a number of times."

"I'll remember Mrs. Hudson." I chuckled. I heard the door shut and sighed. I could just tell that this was going to be an eventful place to live.

"Ah well, best get started."

Feedback please!

And Paige, girl this one's for you!