"Sherlock Holmes," the frustrated voice declared as they stood in front of the large mahogany desk. The woman who spoke tapped her foot against the marbled floor in annoyance as her arm rested on the top of the desk, her fingers then tapping on the wooden surface, the noise echoing around the empty room. The man behind the desk nodded once at her and went about checking the name on his computer as the woman looked away from him and around the waiting room, taking in the brochures which sat on the small coffee table which had been chipped and scratched repeatedly. She checked the clock on her phone and then dropped it back into the pocket of her long grey goat as the man moved from his seat and into another room. As she waited she felt her phone vibrate twice but before she had the chance to check the texts, she saw him moving out to her. His face was pale, as per usual, and his features held no sign of relief or of gratitude for the woman who had just come to collect him from a jail cell.

"Clare," Sherlock nodded at the woman who pursed her lips. He began to walk out in front of her and she followed, handing in his passport to agree to the conditions of his bail. As she caught up with him she extended her hand, hitting him around the back of the head as he automatically rubbed the spot of impact.

"You bloody idiot," she hissed at him as they entered the fresh, cold night air of London and Sherlock looked around for a cab. "Do you have any idea what today is?"

"You didn't need to hit me so hard," he said, acting like a sulking child as Clare gritted her teeth which created a grinding noise and she bit her tongue so not to swear. "And no. I do not know what today is...each days has seemed to roll into one at the moment. The case which I have is certainly interesting."

"I don't give a damn!" she snapped at Sherlock, attracting stares from people who passed on by. "You were supposed to be at your suit fitting tonight!"

"I have plenty of suits," he replied quickly back to her, his eyes narrowed down into hers. "I don't need a new one."

"I'm paying for it!"

"I don't care," Sherlock snapped. "Your money is no interest to me. And your fiance's wealth is also something which does not interest me."

"You're supposed to be giving me away, Sherlock," she said to him, reminding him of the responsibility which he had. "You're supposed to be walking me down the aisle. I chose you! I should have picked Mycroft."

"Well why don't you? Then you could do us all a favour," Sherlock grumbled.

"But I picked you, Sherlock," she said to him. "You're my big brother and I thought that you'd be able to just get through one suit fitting and manage to turn up on time to walk me down the aisle. I've always been closer to you, even if you are the reckless and irresponsible one."

Sherlock remained silent after hearing her speak like that and he finally managed to hail a cab. He opened the door gently, looking at her as he did so before he spoke gently and quietly.

"Do you want to come and get a coffee?" he wondered and she took a brief moment to think, hesitation looming in her mind. "As a thank you for bailing me out of jail?"

"I can't," she decided. "Charles will be wondering where I am and we both need to sort out the invitation list."

"How did you get here?"

"I took the Mercedes," she mumbled back to Sherlock before moving her black satchel further onto her shoulder. "Look...I'll come around tomorrow night after I've been shopping for bridesmaids dresses and we can talk, okay?"

"What is there to talk about?" Sherlock wondered aloud and Clare sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop her from losing control and yelling at her brother again.

"Sometimes siblings just need to talk, Sherlock," she informed him. "Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, his voice full of hesitation and confusion as he agreed to her request, still not sure why they needed to talk.

"I'll see you tomorrow."