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The next few hours had Sherlock pestering you so much that you simply had to ignore him and silence your phone, you’d already told him you’d join him on the newest case as soon as you could… or rather as soon as you felt like it. You’d been home and showered, tucking Mycroft’s pocket watch rather contently in to the pocket of your jeans with the chain attached to your belt loop, and had stopped briefly at the bakery to lend a hand during the midmorning rush before gathering some things and bailing. You just had one more stop and then you’d give in to Sherlock’s demands, walking in to The National Gallery and claiming a seat in front of what you deemed to be the least pointless of the paintings.
You didn’t get art, it seemed so dull and futile to your logical mind, but the reactions of others to it were most intriguing and you found the preoccupation of ordinary people with its value odd. The gallery was fairly empty at this time of day and you closed your eyes to enjoy the rare moment of nearly complete silence before a voice softly broke it, “Nice to have a quiet moment to think isn’t it?”
You smiled, not opening your eyes, “Yes but I prefer to have someone to share it with.”
“Good thing I showed up then.”
The quiet settled in again for a few minutes as you wrapped up your thoughts and then you opened your eyes to greet your companion, “Hello, Q. Lovely to see you again.”
He grinned, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “And you K.”
Getting straight to business, you slid the case you’d been luging around with you all day into his lap before looking back to the painting, “It’s finished. Satellite targeting for a perfect shot each time, topographical scanners for unfamiliar areas, retractable for continued use, and a selectable tip for either gripping an edge or penetrating a wall. It can pierce steel, iron, and most other metals and carry loads up to one hundred thirty six kilograms.”
He was still looking it over when you stood, startling him slightly, “Leaving so soon? I was hoping we could get coffee.”
Offering him an apologetic smile, you explained, “My brother requires my assistance and he lacks patience.”
You leaned to press a light kiss to his cheek, murmuring, “We can catch up later,” and then, while he was still stunned, slid a packet with a couple of biscotti into his hand, “For your coffee.”
You were gone before he could respond, happy with your handiwork and excited to annoy your brother when he deduced what you’d done, and skipped out to the street to hail a cab to take you to St. Bart’s, where Sherlock was likely somewhere between a conniption and a mental melt down.
St. Bart’s was the same as you remembered it and you followed the familiar route to get to the lab where Sherlock usually worked, bursting enthusiastically through the door to nearly run into a brunette girl that you didn’t recognize.
Before you could do your usual meet and greet or even look her over to deduce, Sherlock snapped at you, “You’re late.”
You went completely into work mode when he held a pink cell phone over his head for you to take, as you corrected, “I can’t be late if I never gave you a time. Can I take this apart?”
“No. Hostage Situation,” he offered still not looking up and you gave an annoyed sigh, flicking through the phone before delving into the inner workings of the operating system, “Who’s the girl?”
“Molly.”
“What happened to-“
“Retired.”
“Shame… I liked him.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes and Molly managed to recover from your sudden appearance, “W-Who are you exactly?”
You gave her a wide grin, remembering your manners, “Oh right. Sorry about that. I’m Kheiland, Kheiland Holmes, but I prefer (F/n). You must be Telly’s replacement.”
Turning from her, you slid the phone back to Sherlock, pouting, “It’s horridly boring if I can’t take it apart.”
Just as you said it, a familiar face popped through the door behind Molly and she turned to grin at him, greeting, “Jim! Hi.”
You locked eyes with him for a moment, each of you questioning the other, and then Molly offered some introductions, “Well, I’m Molly Hooper and this is Jim. Jim this is Sherlock Holmes and uh…”
“John Watson. Hi,” John supplied as you watched the scene with curiosity, it was obvious this girl liked your brother, and when she turned to you, you saved her from trying to remember your name, stepping forward to offer him a hand, “Kheiland (F/n) Holmes. Nice to meet you.”
Richard, or Jim as he was in this setting, shook your hand and then turned his attention to Sherlock. That was the last part of the conversation you paid attention to, zoning out to think about the man in front of you. He was putting up a very convincing front of being Molly’s gay boyfriend and despite it being a huge red flag you hadn’t blown his cover- it was too interesting.
He’d seemed as surprised to see you as you had been to see him, though ordinary people wouldn’t have picked up on that, and you chuckled internally that he hadn’t thought to dig into your past enough to figure out who you were. At the bakery, you went by (F/n) Rutherford, your mother’s maiden name, to avoid people connecting you with one or both of your brothers and you'd altered a lot of the surface records to reflect that but he seemed like the type of person who would find the real stuff underneath with enough motivation.
You were pulled back into the conversation when he turned his dark eyes to you and wondered, “So you’re Sherlock’s sister?”
Opening your mouth to answer, you quickly found that you weren’t able to give one as Sherlock had finally glanced up to give you a once over and, as he looked back to his microscope, growled, “I thought he was to young for you, (F/n).”
Forgetting the curious man in front of you for a moment in favor of annoying your brother to the extreme, you gave a wicked smirk, “Would you prefer I went for someone older? John, perhaps?”
Before he could stop you, you’d pressed your lips to John’s in an insistent kiss and Sherlock quickly yanked you away as he snapped, “Stop that. No toying with John or do I need to remind you what happened last time?”
Going a bit wide eyed as what you’d just done sank in, you shook your head almost violently as you mumbled, “Sorry, John,” and then pressed a hand to your temple, “I have to go… get some air… or something.”
You slipped out, moving down the hall to lock yourself in a storage closet so you could think. That had gone too far too quickly… you’d been so focused on messing with your brother that you’d forgotten that it effected other people, that they weren’t just objects to use in your plan, they had emotions too and your action effected them.
This is what Mycroft had meant- you would throw almost anyone under the bus just for the sake of keeping yourself entertained without a second thought. That is unless you managed to pull yourself out of it or someone did it for you like Sherlock just had. You were a good person at heart and you cared about people more than either of your brothers but this other side of you was capable of anything- that was why you scared yourself and why Mycroft worried like he did.
Shaking your head, your tried to focus yourself again, fingering Mycroft’s pocket watch as sort of a lifeline back to acceptable behavior, and then went back to the lab to help Sherlock with the case.
You didn’t get art, it seemed so dull and futile to your logical mind, but the reactions of others to it were most intriguing and you found the preoccupation of ordinary people with its value odd. The gallery was fairly empty at this time of day and you closed your eyes to enjoy the rare moment of nearly complete silence before a voice softly broke it, “Nice to have a quiet moment to think isn’t it?”
You smiled, not opening your eyes, “Yes but I prefer to have someone to share it with.”
“Good thing I showed up then.”
The quiet settled in again for a few minutes as you wrapped up your thoughts and then you opened your eyes to greet your companion, “Hello, Q. Lovely to see you again.”
He grinned, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “And you K.”
Getting straight to business, you slid the case you’d been luging around with you all day into his lap before looking back to the painting, “It’s finished. Satellite targeting for a perfect shot each time, topographical scanners for unfamiliar areas, retractable for continued use, and a selectable tip for either gripping an edge or penetrating a wall. It can pierce steel, iron, and most other metals and carry loads up to one hundred thirty six kilograms.”
He was still looking it over when you stood, startling him slightly, “Leaving so soon? I was hoping we could get coffee.”
Offering him an apologetic smile, you explained, “My brother requires my assistance and he lacks patience.”
You leaned to press a light kiss to his cheek, murmuring, “We can catch up later,” and then, while he was still stunned, slid a packet with a couple of biscotti into his hand, “For your coffee.”
You were gone before he could respond, happy with your handiwork and excited to annoy your brother when he deduced what you’d done, and skipped out to the street to hail a cab to take you to St. Bart’s, where Sherlock was likely somewhere between a conniption and a mental melt down.
St. Bart’s was the same as you remembered it and you followed the familiar route to get to the lab where Sherlock usually worked, bursting enthusiastically through the door to nearly run into a brunette girl that you didn’t recognize.
Before you could do your usual meet and greet or even look her over to deduce, Sherlock snapped at you, “You’re late.”
You went completely into work mode when he held a pink cell phone over his head for you to take, as you corrected, “I can’t be late if I never gave you a time. Can I take this apart?”
“No. Hostage Situation,” he offered still not looking up and you gave an annoyed sigh, flicking through the phone before delving into the inner workings of the operating system, “Who’s the girl?”
“Molly.”
“What happened to-“
“Retired.”
“Shame… I liked him.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes and Molly managed to recover from your sudden appearance, “W-Who are you exactly?”
You gave her a wide grin, remembering your manners, “Oh right. Sorry about that. I’m Kheiland, Kheiland Holmes, but I prefer (F/n). You must be Telly’s replacement.”
Turning from her, you slid the phone back to Sherlock, pouting, “It’s horridly boring if I can’t take it apart.”
Just as you said it, a familiar face popped through the door behind Molly and she turned to grin at him, greeting, “Jim! Hi.”
You locked eyes with him for a moment, each of you questioning the other, and then Molly offered some introductions, “Well, I’m Molly Hooper and this is Jim. Jim this is Sherlock Holmes and uh…”
“John Watson. Hi,” John supplied as you watched the scene with curiosity, it was obvious this girl liked your brother, and when she turned to you, you saved her from trying to remember your name, stepping forward to offer him a hand, “Kheiland (F/n) Holmes. Nice to meet you.”
Richard, or Jim as he was in this setting, shook your hand and then turned his attention to Sherlock. That was the last part of the conversation you paid attention to, zoning out to think about the man in front of you. He was putting up a very convincing front of being Molly’s gay boyfriend and despite it being a huge red flag you hadn’t blown his cover- it was too interesting.
He’d seemed as surprised to see you as you had been to see him, though ordinary people wouldn’t have picked up on that, and you chuckled internally that he hadn’t thought to dig into your past enough to figure out who you were. At the bakery, you went by (F/n) Rutherford, your mother’s maiden name, to avoid people connecting you with one or both of your brothers and you'd altered a lot of the surface records to reflect that but he seemed like the type of person who would find the real stuff underneath with enough motivation.
You were pulled back into the conversation when he turned his dark eyes to you and wondered, “So you’re Sherlock’s sister?”
Opening your mouth to answer, you quickly found that you weren’t able to give one as Sherlock had finally glanced up to give you a once over and, as he looked back to his microscope, growled, “I thought he was to young for you, (F/n).”
Forgetting the curious man in front of you for a moment in favor of annoying your brother to the extreme, you gave a wicked smirk, “Would you prefer I went for someone older? John, perhaps?”
Before he could stop you, you’d pressed your lips to John’s in an insistent kiss and Sherlock quickly yanked you away as he snapped, “Stop that. No toying with John or do I need to remind you what happened last time?”
Going a bit wide eyed as what you’d just done sank in, you shook your head almost violently as you mumbled, “Sorry, John,” and then pressed a hand to your temple, “I have to go… get some air… or something.”
You slipped out, moving down the hall to lock yourself in a storage closet so you could think. That had gone too far too quickly… you’d been so focused on messing with your brother that you’d forgotten that it effected other people, that they weren’t just objects to use in your plan, they had emotions too and your action effected them.
This is what Mycroft had meant- you would throw almost anyone under the bus just for the sake of keeping yourself entertained without a second thought. That is unless you managed to pull yourself out of it or someone did it for you like Sherlock just had. You were a good person at heart and you cared about people more than either of your brothers but this other side of you was capable of anything- that was why you scared yourself and why Mycroft worried like he did.
Shaking your head, your tried to focus yourself again, fingering Mycroft’s pocket watch as sort of a lifeline back to acceptable behavior, and then went back to the lab to help Sherlock with the case.
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“Hullo?” Sherlock said through a yawn, his eyes still half closed. You leaned your head on his side so you could listen to the conversation. From what you heard it was Lestrade, but it was hard to hear his exact words. Suddenly, Sherlock jumped right up, a huge smile appearing on his face. “I’ll be right there!” He rushed over to grab his coat and shoes; you followed him and started to
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“Don’t make me order you.” You lifted your arm from under the duvet and held it up
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You leaned back into Jim Moriaty’s chest and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed you into him. It was interesting when you met him.
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“Hi, can I help you?” You asked cautiously.
“I’ve seen you quite a l
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In which the reader gets carried away... and you meet Jim- again. I wonder what he thought of all of that.
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I got to know what „Jim’s“ Face was! Sorry but confusing the most dangerous man on earth,is too much fun!