Mycroft Holmes stood in the holding area of the Harrisgate Asylum.
"We're ready for you,sir," announced the guard as he opened the door for Mycroft.
In the small room was a table and two chairs. One chair was occupied by a young woman with long brown hair. She barely glanced up at him as he took the empty seat across from her. A smile began in the corner of her mouth.
"Rosamund," Mycroft broke the silence first, "you're looking well."
"And you look the same," she replied, "despite the fact that you have been trying to lose weight."
"Don't do that," he ordered, "I did not come here to play games. This is not a social visit!"
"Clearly," Rosamund responded calmly despite the outburst, "why would you make a social visit? What has it been? Five years maybe?"
"Six," Mycroft corrected. He took a deep breath. "I know that you receive a news of sorts in this place. Do you know what is going on out in the real world?"
Rosamund laughed. "Yes, I know ever so much more than you ever give me credit for, Mycroft. I have already been contacted."
Mycroft's shock was palpable. He knew that the asylum wasn't as secure enough but this was ridiculous.
"We have a serious problem, brother mine." She slid the letter toward him to read.
"You are not wrong, little sister."
"What?" John was yelling, "You didn't think that it was worth mentioning? In all the years that I have known you a simple 'I have a sister' was too mundane a fact to toss into a conversation?"
Brixton on the day that Sherlock and John first looked at 221b
Sherlock had read him up and down perfectly except for one small detail.
"Harry's short for Harriet," John continued.
Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks.
"Harry's your sister," he deduced. He gritted his teeth. "Sister! There's always something."
Watson looked at Sherlock waiting for an answer.
"It wasn't relevant," he started. John huffed.
"You are not exactly a reliable gauge for relevancy, Sherlock," he exclaimed, "'I am not dead', 'your wife is a trained assassin', 'I have a sister' There is just some information that you throw out there because it needs to be said."
"I rarely think about her, myself," Sherlock continued, "we are not exactly on speaking terms."
"Alright," John replied, "do you have any other siblings that you want to tell me about?"
"No"
"Do you have any other sibling you don't want to tell me about?"
Sherlock was about to answer when the sound of a throat clearing interrupted the conversation. John turned around to see Mycroft and a young woman in the doorway. She was shorter than Mycroft with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail and she had bright blue eyes like Sherlock. She reminded John of someone but he wasn't exactly sure who. She wore scrubs that looked slightly worn out.
"Well, I can see introductions are going to be necessary. Dr. John Watson, this is our younger sister Rosamund Holmes," Mycroft began, "Rosamund, this is Sherlock's friend and confidant, Dr. John Watson.
"Pleasure. I read your blog all the time. Very well written," Rosamund said to John. She did not extend her hand nor did her tone convey any genuine pleasure in the greeting.
Mycroft continued. "She will be staying in the upstairs bedroom-"
"My room... My old room?" John asked.
"I understand that you still frequent the room when you and Mary have disagreements but you will have to make do with the sofa." Mycroft continued, "Cordelia has taken Rosamund's sizes and will be in later with new clothes. Rosamund is to only leave this domicile in the company of Sherlock, myself and provisionally John Watson. Now if there is nothing else..."
"Oh, This is ridiculous, Mycroft," Sherlock interrupted, "You don't have to stand so official. We are not being watched."
"That is something I am well aware of, Sherlock." Mycroft replied.
"If it is any consolation, I don't want to be here at all. I was perfectly safe where I was," Rosamund interjected.
Sherlock looked at her strangely for second and then back to Mycroft. "Don't you have a country to run, brother?"
"Cordelia will be here no later than five," Mycroft stated. With that and a nod to John and Rosamund he left.
The remaining three stood in the room looking at each other.
"So... I would like to get washed up eventually," Rosamund started.
"Through the kitchen and to the left. Towels and robe are already in there for you," Sherlock replied.
"Thank you," Rosamund said. She started for the bathroom.
"I don't want you here at all," Sherlock called after her.
John looked at Sherlock. He knew that his friend could be cold. He knew that the depths of sociopathic behavior was immense but this interaction with his sister was appalling to watch. It made John's phone calls with Harry seem loving. What alarmed John the most was the seemed level of anger and lack of yelling. Was this what a Holmes family fight was like?
"Sherlock?" John tried to order his question appropriately.
"John." Sherlock returned, "I already know what is going through your head and I suppose I should explain what I can."
John sat in his chair and waited.
"My brother is clever. I am clever. It stands to reason that our sister would also moderately intelligent to say the least. She is. She has a brilliant mind for puzzles and equations. When she was nineteen she was recruited to a terrorist organization operating in Cardiff under the name Juliet Grieves."
"That girl in there? Your sister? She is a terrorist?"
"In the academic sense. Yes. When the cell she worked under was raided most of the members were sent to prison for treason. She would have been a target because the organization found out that her brother worked for the government. Naturally they assumed she turned them in. Mycroft made arrangements for her to love out her days under the protection of Harrisgate Asylum for the criminally insane."