Disclaimer- Sherlock Holmes belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle; Holmes and Watson's personalities and traits in this particular story are based on Guy Ritchie's 2009 version

AN) Told in Watson's POV of course. The meeting of Holmes and Watson in this oneshot is based on Doyle's original Holmes and Watson introduction in his first Holmes story A Study in Scarlet.

What was I to say?

Short 1- Lucky Guess

The streets were wet and filthy and, for the most part, deserted. Empty streets were unusual for this time of day, ten in the morning, but the rain was heavy and the air was so cold it pinched at your skin.

"Doctor John Watson!" A woman by the name of Elieen Bankroaf waved her hand at me as she entered a carriage with another man. I politely waved back. Miss Bankroaf and I have had dinner a few times in the past, but in the end, it turned out that we had very little in common. There is bound to be problems in a relationship when all she wants to talk about is women climbing up the political ladder in society and you would rather talk about anything other than.

"Excuse me." I muttered to a gentlemen standing in the doorway of a small café. It was jammed full of people. Everywhere you moved you either bumped into someone or someone's table. It was not the nicest place in London, but it was cheap and easy to get to. Money has been a bit of a sore subject for me lately.

"Can I help you find a seat, dear?" The waitress asked. She was overweight and out of breath with her hair hanging in her face and sunken tired eyes.

"No, actually I came here to meet with some-"

"Oh, Watson, over here! Come on, get over here!" I heard the rough voice of my friend, Stamford, yell over the loud rumbling crowd. He and another man were sitting at a table in the back corner. I stumbled and pushed my way over to them and finally fell into the unoccupied third chair.

"What an accessible table you chose to sit at, gentlemen." I joked. Stamford was the same as always; his just a little too tight clothes hugging his heavy form and laugh lines already marking his young face. We had known each other all our lives. That is not to say that we have always been friends, but times change and so do people.

"How are you?" I asked my friend. He smiled and nodded.

"Good! Great! My oldest child, you remember Tod," I nodded and he continued. "He'll be starting his lessens with his tutor next week. Oh, they do grow fast."

"And how are the baby and your wife Jessica?"

"Beautiful, just beautiful. But enough of me, tell me about you!"

"Ahmm…there really isn't that much to say, Stamford, you know all about me. Nothing's changed."

"Ah, yes, but my other friend here hasn't even met you before." Stamford waved his finger to the man sitting across from him. Stamford's friend was staring out the window, it seemed, ignoring our conversation. From what I could immediately tell, the man had brown hair, was in good physical shape, and had a calm demeanor about him. I hadn't realized I had been staring until he moved uncomfortably in his seat and looked around the room as if broken out of some sort of deep thought.

"Yes yes, a doctor, that's very interesting." The man nodded to me and again looked around the room as if he was going to get up and run any second. I furrowed my eyebrows and thought back on the conversation Stamford and I just had. Neither of us had mentioned anything about me being a doctor.

"Stamford must have been talking about me behind my back, eh?" 'I chuckled. "I hope he didn't say too much."

"Actually, Stamford hasn't told me a thing about you other than your name."

"Oh? Then a lucky guess."

"Not a guess, Doctor, a conclusion. Observations pieced together to form a logical explanation. For example, the way you've laced your shoes." I quickly glanced down at my shoes and looked back up at his serene face. He was no longer looking around like a caged animal, but sitting easily with his leg across his knee and his elbow on the table.

Stamford, eager to break the awkward silence, cleared his throat.

"Ehmm ha mm...Dr. John Watson, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes." I held out my hand to Holmes and he took it immediately. "Watson, you said you were searching for a roommate to share the cost of lodgings-"

"You are?" Holmes sputtered and choked when taking a sip of tea. "So am I." He coughed once and pulled a ripped off piece of paper from his pocket. "There is a suite in Baker Street I have looked into." He opened up the ripped piece of paper, spread it out on the table, and pushed it towards me. I picked it up and read the scribbles.

No. 221B, Baker Street

What was I to say? I was indeed searching for a person to share the expense of housing with, but I had just met this man and, from what I've gathered so far, he was a little strange.

"Well, I…"

"We can meet there tomorrow and look the place over before we come to any final decisions."

"I…well um..."

"Wonderful, tomorrow it is. Same time?"

So there I was the next day, same time, rushing to get out of the cold rain again.

Finally, I reached 221 Baker Street and quickly knocked on the door.

"Hello?" An older woman answered.

"Hello," I removed my hat respectfully. "I'm here to-"

"So when are you moving in, Watson?" Sherlock Holmes's voice called to me from another room off to the right.