It was his first night in his new apartment. 221A Baker Street was a spacious, two-story place that he had invested in, figuring he could rent out the extra rooms.
He had paused his un-packing for the night to get some take-away before preparing for bed. Just as he was setting his alarm clock – he jolted.
Was that a gunshot? His mother had been a policewoman and as a child he had been taken to shooting ranges.
There it was again! Yes, definitely a gunshot. It sounded as if coming from the neighboring apartment.
Scrambling, he reached his mobile on the floor near his mattress. Dialing the police, he rushed to tell the man on the other line about the noises as the gunshots continued.
He could vaguely make out some shouting coming from his neighbors and informed the policeman of that too. When asked the address of the commotion, he had to pause before replying '221B Baker Street'.
"Right, hang on then, I'll transfer you to the Inspector." He was left puzzled. Sure, there was a shooting, but why would he need to speak to the inspector? And shouldn't someone be checking on his neighbors?
He heard sound on the other end of the phone but realized it was the officer calling out, saying, "Lestrade! There's a complaint on Sherlock!"
Sherlock? Who was Sherlock? And didn't the man hear him? He wasn't complaining, he was reporting a shooting, for god's sake!
There was some shuffling on the line before a new, weary voice said hello. "I've been told you're reporting a complaint on Sherlock Holmes. Please tell me exactly how he has affected you," said the voice, almost mechanically, as if he had said those same words hundreds of times before.
"What? Sorry, I think the officer I was talking to was mistaken. I never said I was complaining about anyone named 'Sherlock'. I was reporting a shooting at my neighbors place, it, well it's stopped now, but there was shouting and I thought I should phone the police."
"You said, the address of the shooting was 221B Baker Street, correct?"
"Yes!" he confirmed, exasperated. You'd think they'd be a bit more worried. The man, the inspector, on the other hand, surprised him further by chuckling and responding with:
"Right, well I'd advise you to just ignore that or any other strange noises or affairs going on at 221B that you happen to witness. No need to call us for anything. Good night, sir."
The line went dead and he dropped the phone back on to the bed, shocked. Were they mad? He had heard gunshots! Multiple ones at that! And who was this Sherlock Holmes?
Disclaimer: don't own Sherlock, sadly