With bags packed, and the airplane ticket in her pocket, the auburn-haired girl ran down stairs. She didn't have much possessions, being an orphan. Just paint, her favorite paint-brushes, clothes, and a couple of books, lied within the suitcase. She walked out of her current home; a catholic convent located on one of the many streets of Paris, France. A taxi awaited her, to take her to the airport. In just a couple of hours, she would see him again. The only person in the world she was certain she loved. John Watson. She took one last look at the Eiffel Tower, one of the few things that she never grew tired painting. Good-bye, she thought as she clutched the locket around her throat and headed towards the taxi cab.
Sherlock was lying on the azure colored sofa in their flat. He was bored, as usual, and thought about shooting a couple more rounds at the wall with his gun. It was two in the morning, however, and he chuckled at the thought of Mrs. Hudson's wrath. He placed the hand gun on the table, next to his iPhone that stayed silent the entire day. He had hoped a murderer would call, an explosion would occur, something exciting. But, hey, not all days were fun. Suddenly, he heard quiet footsteps descending from the stairs. He recognized them as John's steps from the way each step creaked in the floor. John was speaking with someone. "What time would she be coming?" John hushed into the cellular device. Sherlock could tell John was waiting for him to fall asleep to make the call. But what could John, his best friend, not want to share with him? Sherlock closed his eyes and listened closely. " And how long would she stay? That long... No it's-its not a problem. I can't wait to see her. Thank you for your time." Sherlock heard the phone click and John sigh. John entered the room and sat in his chair, the one he always sat in across from Sherlock, next to the sofa. "How am I going to tell him?" John's voice was barely audible. "Queen of England coming for some tea, John?" John flinched when Sherlock spoke. "Jesus, Sherlock. I thought-" " That I was asleep, yes I know." Sherlock interrupted. "Well," John chuckled silently, "what don't you know?" "Who you were speaking with." John's smile faded. He put his hands on his lap and faced Sherlock. There was a long pause. "Sherlock... How... How would you feel if we had another person in the flat?" Silence. "Pardon?" Sherlock asked. "It would only be for a while-" "Who's the girl?" Sherlock's voice wavered. John ignored Sherlock's deduction. "I assume you were speaking with a guardian of some sort." said Sherlock. John said nothing. Sherlock sounded slightly irritated; John was trying to keep the call a secret. They never kept secrets from each other. John took a deep breath. "I was going to tell you when you woke up but...she's my niece, Sherlock. I know I haven't mentioned her much, but I love her dearly." John looked so distant, Sherlock noticed. John always seemed so strong, so brave. It was one of the things that Sherlock... loved about him. But at the moment, he looked vulnerable. "She's the only family I've got left." John looked at Sherlock with desperation in his eyes. Sherlock responded, "Well, the guardian's not a family member, so who is she staying with?" John was surprised that Sherlock had taken interest in this. He looked into Sherlock's- well, that was the thing. John could never tell what the color of Sherlock's eyes were. Some days, they were ocean blue. Others, forest green, a rainy day gray, and so on. John cleared his throat and focused on the subject. "She's been staying with nuns at a convent for about two years after her parents, my brother and his wife, died. The nuns planned a religious trip to Jerusalem; she can't go. She could have stayed with me all those years but..." Sherlock raised his hand to stop John. He didn't need him to go on. Obviously, John's doctor refused to let the child stay with him due to his post traumatic stress syndrome. "How long would she stay?" John remained silent. Sherlock gave him a look. "Don't give me that face." John mumbled but said nothing for a some time. "Six months." "SIX MONTHS!?-" Sherlock stammered. "Sherlock!" John shushed him. "You'll wake the neighbors!" "Oh, like I've ever cared what the neighbors think of me." He said in a much lower voice "But six months John?" "I know it's a long time but she's-" "Very important to you, I know." John went silent. Sherlock almost sounded... jealous. Sherlock sighed. "She needs to stay out of my way and away from my work. No exceptions." John stood up, and started to walk slowly to his room, adjacent to Sherlock's. "Sherlock, this means the world to me. Thank you." Sherlock shrugged. "If she's another annoying teenage girl, I'm sending her back to the convent." he said, half-joking. John smiled and laid his hand on the doorknob. "As a matter of fact," he said, "she was the smartest freshman at her high school out of 3,000 other freshmen, with a GPA of 4.6." Sherlock's eyebrows rose and his mouth opened slightly. John just shrugged his shoulders as a smiled crept up on his lips, "Maybe you'll like her." And on that note, John shut the door, leaving Sherlock alone in the room. Questions ran through his mind. What would she be like? Would she be annoying? He hoped not. Sherlock walked to his room and laid down on his bed, finally feeling exhausted. As his eyelids began to close, he forgot to ask. What was her name?
