I knock on the big, black door. A short man with blond hair and a cute sweater opens.
"Um, are you the client, because we aren't taking any right now." He calmly says.
"John! Lovely to see you! I've heard so much about you!" I twitter, as I walk through the open door.
"Sherlock's upstairs, I imagine. Shooting a wall or something, right?" I skip up the stairs. I open the door. Sherlock's mouth opens.
"John, I need some tea. And a case, but I know you can't do that. Only Lestrade can-"
His voice breaks off. I raise my eyebrows.
"Sherlock, how are you?"
"Sherlock, who is this?" John asks, in the doorway.
"Um, a friend." He says.
"You don't have friends," he says.
Sherlock still hasn't broken my gaze.
"How long has it been? 20 years?" I ask, daring him.
"19." He says, stiffly.
"Sherlock, who is this?" John says, his voice rising.
"It's been too long hasn't it." I say, speaking the unspoken truth.
"It was so long. Everyone was so worried." His voice is low.
"Sherlock, I need you to tell me who this is!" John is getting worried.
"Oh, her? She's my sister." Sherlock glances at him.
Yay! New fic! Tell me what you think! :)