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.

"Your what?!"


Yay! New fic! Tell me what you think! :)

CaughtInTheStorm