When you learned that important people from England would be coming to the hotel in Malta where you worked as a maid for a wedding, you weren't too happy. Everyone knew what the British did with Maltese, but oh well, they paid a lot, so you didn't say anything. Your job was simply to clean their rooms, wash their clothes, and deliver things whenever someone asked. You were wheeling a cart full of cleaning supplies down the hall, your face sad as always, your legs shaking from hours of nonstop work, but there was one room left. You knocked lightly on the door, saying quietly, "Cleaning service..." When the door opened, you, a tall, muscular man with messy hair, dressed in casual clothes, knew it was Sherlock Holmes, so you straightened your back, forced a smile and asked politely "Do you need your room cleaned up, sir...?"