221b Baker Street Flat Novels & Stories

It was quite late when DI Paul Silver dropped me off at my flat. An old Victorian house that had been converted into flats and I had the one on the top floor. I stood at the communal door and waved him off and instead of going upstairs to the warming comforts that awaited me – I had left the central heating on – I walked up to the churchyard.

I guess there were perks to being a well-dressed, handsome, rich-looking man because, despite the suspicious looks he gave me, he still let me in without further questions. “Thanks, chap.” I patted him on the back before I hurried over to the lift. Stein sent me a flat number, which he claimed likely belonged to Leon. I would have to locate the flat then. The boy followed me into the lift and pressed the 10th-floor button. I frowned at him. “You live in flat 19 or 20?” He frowned at the question. “We own the entire floor, so we live in both flats. My dad owns this entire building complex.”

Must have been late evening when the incident happened. Eknath was at the crime scene with one more constable waiting for Anya to arrive. It was a tiny flat on the second floor. The building looked dilapidated but was clean. There were no lifts and no CCTV cameras. The door was taped by the cops. The constable lifted the tape to allow Anya and her team to enter. He directed them into a small cosy bedroom. Like the rest of the building the flat was run down but clean. You could see that the girl loved plants. The tiny overhanging balcony outside the living room window was lined with potted plants which looked healthy and well taken care of.

I looked around hesitantly when I spotted a young man smoking as he stepped outside one of the bottom flats. "Oh, excuse me!" I said, hurrying over to him, quickly unlocking my phone and showing him a picture of Zara. "What?" He asked, looking me over before looking away. "Do you know which flat belongs to this woman?" I asked. He glanced at my phone, frowned slightly, then looked up and pointed towards two doors. "One of those two, she’s new around here." He replied broodily. "Thank you." I replied with a graceful smile. He gave a nod before walking off, I made my way upstairs and knocked on the first door. No answer. I sighed and knocked again, but still, no one answered. I moved to the ne

He smiled at a face which was worth more than a second glance, a face any woman might love to spend time with. All his friends liked his flat. It was a self-contained unit on the third floor of an apartment building well located in the middle of the city. On closer look, the interior revealed built-in furniture which was evenly distributed in the little space to create the illusion of spaciousness. In one of the two rooms lay the bed at the center where two nightstands with matching reading lamps on each side stood as fitting complements. On the right were a grey telephone beside a Swiss alarm clock and a family picture on the left. It had a small kitchen where he prepared his meals and a Ma

he said, already moving toward his jacket on the back of the chair. She stood. "Where are we going?" He picked up his keys. "We," he said, "are going to fetch your attacker." The row of apartments was in Bermondsey. Three storeys of weathered brick, built for function rather than beauty. The kind of place that had stood quietly for decades, its walls holding hundreds people in it literally. The problem now was, the narrow street outside was packed with motorcycles. Dozens of them. Some squeezed tightly against the curb, others tucked beneath balconies or beside overflowing bins. There were so many that, at first glance, they all blurred together.

She sighed and placed down the phone, that being solved now how the hell was she going to get her phone back from her ex? Before she could take a step the phone rang, she picked it up wondering who it would be. "Um…hello?" She sat down on the floor, stretching her back, duh it was aching so much lately as if she was an old granny now. "Hello, Mrs Fletchers?" Came an unknown voice, "Yes, Mrs Fletcher's speaking" she replied sitting upright, "I'm very sorry to disturb you now but there is a guest for you who has refused to wait down here for you and is now on his way to your flat" the man explained, Aileen frown getting up "A man you said? What man? I don't have any appointment" she frowned ev

Well, I don't think doppelgänger exists. “I don't understand, what are you talking about?” I asked, crinkling my face in confusion. “How do you mean this isn't the place you've been asked to come? What address were you given?” “Just a moment, please.” she said, trying to confirm the place of address on her cellphone. “Alright, it's 223 East 34 Oasis Street, apartment 3B.”

“No need for a meet up, you got it. The house is 84th street, 2nd avenue. Do you know there?” I stared at my phone for some seconds, that was it? Just like that? Why was it so easy? Was he some sort of serial killer looking for an easy target in desperate and homeless women like me? What if it wasn’t a man? Well that would make my life much more easier. “Yes, I grew up here” I texted back. “Perfect then, house key is under the flower pot, the one that looks like an angry grandma, you’ll know when you see it”

"Well, what you said makes sense. I live in Flat 4B, Maple Court, on High Street!" She had simply and neatly exposed her exact address in complete detail. Sebastian was speechless. Hayes let out a burst of laughter from the front seat, but received a sharp glare from Sebastian a second later. "Sir, this young lady's sense of self-preservation is... ahem... truly impenetrable!"