I was on my way up to 221b when a man whom I presumed to be Doctor John Watson rushed past me while muttering his apologies. By the look of things he was irritated. Who could blame him? One generally becomes irritated when being around my brother all day. I made my way up to the flat.

"What have you done to my bloody wall?!" Mrs. Hudson had, no doubt had her flat fall victim to the work of a bored Sherlock. At least it wasn't the heroin again. "I'm putting this on your rent, young man!" She exclaimed when she walked past me. "Oh hello dear," she had caught a glimpse of me "Maybe you can cheer him up."

"Oh Mrs. Hudson, you and I both know that won't happen without a murder." She smiled at me and retreated downstairs. I had no longer gotten into the flat when I was unexpectedly thrown against the wall with great force.

There had been an explosion across the street. The windows were blown out and everything in the flat was disheveled. "Well Sherlock, this isn't exactly how I had pictured our visit going." I held my hand out waiting for him to help me up, and as always he was there.

"What exactly are you doing here Ansley?"

"Visiting my big brother. Did I not just say that?"

"You're not working for Mycroft again, are you? Wait-" He began to walk around me. I pursed my lips, knowing he was going to try and size me up as usual. "No, you're not. So that again begs the question of why you are here."

"I told you, Sherlock, I came for a visit. I was in the area."

He looked at me with his cold stare. He didn't believe a word I was saying. "Lovely, the police are here."

Detective Inspector Lestrade entered the room then. He and I weren't on the friendliest of terms. I greeted him with a nod and walked into the kitchen where another officer was present to take my statement of what happened. Given my state, I invited myself to stay for the evening knowing that Sherlock had upset Doctor Watson enough to know that he was not coming back this night.

The next morning the police were still all around the building across the street where the explosion had originated. Sherlock and I were in the living room, still not speaking when Mycroft gifted us with his presence.

"Hello Ansley. I hadn't expected to see you here."

"Mycroft." He wasn't there for me and our relationship, too, had been strained since he almost had me killed last year. Now wasn't the time for that however. He was here for Sherlock. He had a case and of course it would be of utmost importance.

For almost an hour I watched as the police worked diligently on investigating the explosion. Mycroft was rambling on about "National Importance". I noticed a cab pull up. Doctor Watson had returned. He had likely seen what had happened on the telly. He was ever fond of Sherlock. However strange his fascination was, at least I knew Sherlock was being taken care of.

A few moments later John burst through the door, "Sherlock. Sherlock!"

The men had stopped talking and we were all looking at a rather distressed and panicked John Watson. Still lazily messing with his Violin, Sherlock finally paid attention to John. "John." He said in a calmer tone than John's.

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?"

"Gas leak." Sherlock and I said at the same time. This drew attention to myself and as if it were clockwork John asked for an introduction. I joined the men and extended my hand out to John, "Ansley Holmes, Dr. Watson. A pleasure." He shook my hand and had a quick glance at my brothers before looking back at me and letting go of my hand.

"I had no idea you had a sister, Sherlock. It's nice to meet you. And you know who I am?"

"Of course I do Dr. Watson. I follow your blog."

Mycroft and Sherlock resumed their conversation, "I can't." Sherlock said bluntly.

"'Can't'"

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock was still focused on his violin. He was also lying. Not only did I actually follow John's blog, but it was also written all over his face. He had nothing going on. The wall had suffered for that already. I remained quiet though. Mycroft never could pick up on Sherlock's lying.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of National Importance." Mycroft stated

Sherlock plucked on his violin, obviously ignoring Mycroft. "How's the diet?"

"Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him, John. I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

John was confused by everyone thinking that he had some sort of power over Sherlock and his decisions.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock asked.

"No, no, no, no, no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time- not with the Korean elections so.. Well now you don't need to know about that, do you?" He had left his seat and was closing in on the door, "Besides, a case like this – it requires… legwork."

Sherlock continued to ignore Mycroft with his violin, and evaluating the night that John had. "How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"

"Sofa." I stated.

"Yes, sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." Mycroft chimed in.

"Yes, of course."

John looked at us. He was in disbelief that all three Holmes children had this incredible, yet very annoying, gift of deduction. "How…? Oh never mind."

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became… pals." Mycroft moved closer to the door, stopping to hand me a file. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

"I'm never bored." John mused.

"Good! That's good isn't it? Look over the file, find the plans. Don't make me order you. Goodbye Sherlock, John, Ansley. I'll be seeing you very soon." With that he left the flat.

I began to flip through the file. Andrew West, or "Westie" was a civil servant that had been found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning. His head had been bashed in.

"Jumped in front of train?" John chimed in. I had been unaware that I was talking aloud.

"Seems the logical explanation at first glance, but there are top secret missile plans that are missing. They were on a memory stick…" I was cut off by the sound of John's laughter.

"That wasn't very clever." He smiled, but his smile faded when he looked at my still very serious face.

"It wasn't the only copy, Dr. Watson. But they are apparently very important, and missing." I turned to Sherlock with expectations that he would begin working on the case. When he remained in his chair, both unmoving and uninterested I cleared my throat. "You lied. You have not a single case. So take this one."

"You don't know that I don't have a case." He threw a look my way.

"Don't I? Dr. Watson?"

John took a moment looking to me and then to Sherlock several times before sighing and siding with me. "She's right Sherlock. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

"Why shouldn't I?" His phone began to ring. When he answered John looked to me. I just shook my head, knowing I was about to get roped into something I would rather stay out of.

Sherlock hung up the phone and looked to John. "Lestrade. I've been summoned." He smiled wildly as he shot out of his chair. He was almost to the stairs when he asked John if he was coming along. John, of course, agreed and they were gone in a flash. No longer had I sat on the couch and began going through the file did I hear Sherlock's voice from downstairs, "Coming, sister?"