Chapter one:

"Blimey..." Was all I could say when I beheld our new home. Our, plural, meaning me and my new wife Rosalie.
"Well. I guess we 'ave our work cut out for us, eh love?" Rosalie said, trying to cheer me up. I take a few steps into the two story home, there
is no furniture. Well, at least there is no furniture in one piece, I couldn't really tell in this mess of wood, trash, and-
"Oh, bloody hell!" Rats. Lovely. Rosalie comes to my side and observes the cause of my outburst.
"Ugh. Johnathan, tomorrow you're findin' that landlord and havin' a word with 'im!" she orders, wrinkling her nose.
Oh yes, I suppose I haven't really introduced myself yet, my name is Johnathan Stanford. Humble tailor and proprietor of The Finest Stitch. Well, not yet. Maybe one day, but for now we have our work cut out for us cleaning this place up before we can even think of getting that dream rolling. Oh, and I
design clothing and hairstyles as well. So i guess I'm a Tailor, Designer and Barber. But that's for another time.
Rosalie and I trudge through the living room graveyard and head upstairs to see the damage up there. Surprisingly, the damage and mess is minimal, the only severe problem with the upstairs is, well, its too dark. There are no windows, no cracks in the wall, nothing. Oh wait, there is one lamp, most likely out of fuel by now, or too much accumulated dust to work. Either way, this will most likely be our storage room.
We decide not to even stay in that dingy old place that night and rent a room at the local Inn. Its not very nice, but it is pleasant and cheap. After splashing my face with water from the basin in the lavatory, I shuffle into the main room and crawl in next to Rosalie.
"Well my dear, we made it. London, who'd have thought it?" I look over after saying this to find I'm talking to no one, Rosalie being unconscious already. But who can really blame her? We were on that festering ship for a week before we landed here, after which we had to walk all the way to our street using only a note from the landlord for directions. It took us bloody hours to find the shithole of hovel waiting for us! Oh well, not much we can do now, I've already installed a 300 pound payment that cannot be revoked.
With a sigh, I drift off to sleep, cradling Rosalie's red head to my chest.
Of course the next day was worse than the first. I went in search of the owner at his home in the downtown district, and surprise, he was nowhere to be found. So i spent the next few hours going around to local pubs, barber shops, and god knows what else looking for the slimy bastard. But to no luck, he was gone.
Heading home filled with frustration I decided that I would rather not be short with Rosalie, especially since she would exact it upon me sevenfold(of this I was sure). I took to surveying my surroundings.
I was walking down a cobblestone road that winded around pubs, homes, a church or two, and a couple abandoned buildings with broken windows and smashed in doors. I turned just in time to jump several feet to the right, catching my foot on a loose rock and falling on my bottom rather embarrassingly, out of the way of a raging carriage.
"Well that is hardly acceptable behavior..." I muttered to myself, brushing my sleeves free of dirt. The driver seemed to care little, if at all about almost crushing me. Neither did the people around me it seems. There were at least ten people who saw it, but none seemed to notice it more than if a fly was buzzing in front of them.
I stood up and tried to stay on the side of the road the rest of the trip.
When I got to the house, I almost missed it. The last time I had seen it was at night when I didn't get a good look. All the windows were on the first floor, and all of them dirty and cracked. The roof was in shambles some pieces just hanging there. The door may once have been nice and inviting, but now it too was barely held together. Paint flecks lead me to believe the door was once maroon, now it was gray and flaky.
I was in my own little world when i heard Rosalie's voice calling,"Johnathan! Where 'ave you been love? It's been hours!" She is waving her hand out of the window in what i guess to be the pantry. I quickly crossed the street. I put my hand on the knob of the door and when my hand left the door, so did the knob.
"Lovely..." I sighed. So there I was, standing there in the middle of the doorway, holding the knob in my hand, when I actually take a look into the place.
"Well Rose... You certainly have been busy today..." Is all I can say at the moment. I have definitely stepped into a totally different dimension than the shithouse we walked into last night. Where there was once a pile of old wood and shredded cloth was now bare floor. The smell that reminded me of outhouses from last night was nonexistent as well, replaced my a strangely floral aroma.
There was sunlight pouring through the dirty windows, giving the place a much more pleasant feeling, not to mention that the rats were gone.
"Well I figured while you were out I would clean up a little. Speakin' of which, did you manage to find the owner?" She said after a minute or so of me admiring her work.
"Hm? Oh, the owner. Well, as it turns out, he was nowhere to be found. I searched all bloody day and not a single trace of the snake. I think he knew we would be looking for him after he duped us into buying this, well what used to be a mess. By the way, where did all the trash wind up?"
She pointed somewhere to her right, obscured behind the wall, and I went to see what she meant.
in the back of the kitchen was a huge wrought-iron furnace glowing cheerily with the flame within. Next to it was what she pointed at, a pile of junk almost as tall as the furnace itself.
"We can just burn it all love. It heats the place and it gets rid of an awful mess." She said.
"Rose, what would I have done without you?" I ask, wrapping my arm around her waist.
"I 'ave no idea love, but I reckon you'd be an even bigger mess than this place earlier." She answered, with a look of mischief on her face.
Then I noticed another fault with the house, and something we don't have already. We need furniture. So far the entire house except for the upstairs with the chair and lamp is completely devoid of anything. The kitchen has the furnace and a counter for preparing food, but other than that, everything is bare. Completely, utterly empty.
Rosalie beat me to the chase,"Well love, I guess we are needin' some furniture and the like to make this place more livable. 'Ow much money do we 'ave?" She asked me. I groaned, other than the three hundred pounds I put into the place, we had only enough for one oil lamp.
"Not enough dear... and I'm afraid I won't be able to open shop anytime soon because we can't afford supplies."
"Well, we can always rent out that upstairs, heaven forbid we'll be usin' it." Rosalie said suddenly, and I could have kissed her. I did. Multiple times.
"You, Rose, are an absolute genius!" I breath after many heated kisses.
"Well I was wonderin' where these all came from." She returned with a smile.