A/N I'm a new comer to this fandom...watching the entire series in a couple of days at the urging of one of my best friends. And, of course, I absolutely loved it! After watching the end of season 3, I was struck with an idea. One that covers what I think is gonna go down in season 4. This is a one shot I wrote that kinda goes along with that, although I've added a lot to make this into a story. I hope you guys enjoy it :) More info at the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Sherlock chars or plot lines. I only own my one OC and the ideas I came up with.

John Watson slipped into 221 Baker Street and hung his coat on the rack by the door. Mary had practically forced him out of their flat to visit Sherlock. Not that he was complaining, he could use a murder case, things had been so slow recently, almost boring. It would be nice to get the adrenaline pumping again.

God. Did he really just think that? He was starting to sound like Sherlock now. Maybe he should have someone lock him up before he tried to shoot holes into one of his walls.

Mary probably wouldn't go for that. Especially not with Anne in the house.

"Morning, Mrs. Hudson!" John called out through her open door.

"Morning, dear!" She replied, peeking out. "Just to warn you, Mycroft is with Sherlock and the two have been arguing for at least an hour. Heaven knows why."

"Do they need a reason?" John asked, shaking his head.

He was half amused and half exasperated. Even though he'd known both of the Holmes men (or should he say boys? They were surely acting that way) for years, he was still no closer to figuring them out.

Their relationship was so deeply buried that even John, who was closer than anyone else, had yet to uncover it. There was love in there somewhere, he was sure of that, but there was also a lot of other things, one of the biggest being a rivalry that made Cain and Abel look like model brothers in comparison.

Mrs. Hudson shrugged then smiled.

"How are Mary and the baby?"

"Good," John smiled. "They're good. I'll have to bring them next time I'm over."

"Please do that, dear. It's just been ages since I last saw them."

John kept quiet about the fact that she had seen them both just under a week ago.

"I'll do my best," he responded, making his way up the stairs. "Is tea already up?"

"Of course, but remember, dear, I'm not the housekeeper!" She disappeared inside her door.

"Of course you're not," John muttered, shaking his head and smiling.

Mrs. Hudson would never change; she would constantly clean-up for Sherlock and deny the fact that she ever did so. It was amusing to watch her pretend. But John wasn't about to ruin her fantasy, Sherlock wouldn't last a day without her. He needed someone to make sure he stayed out of as much trouble as possible.

Which, honestly, wasn't much.

John pushed open the door to 221b and caught sight of Sherlock and Mycroft in a middle of a stare down. Sherlock was sitting in his usual chair, still in his blue dressing gown, his violin across his lap. He had probably been playing when Mycroft arrived. Mycroft was sitting in what used to be John's chair, wearing a brown suit and red tie. His umbrella leaned up against the tea table which was set for tea, both men with cups in their hands.

"Sherlock," John greeted. "Mycroft."

"John," they responded in unison, continuing to stare each other down.

John rolled his eyes and went to get his own cup of tea. Milk, no sugar. He carried his cup over to the sofa and sat down, pulling the newspaper over from where it lay across the coffee table. He glanced through it, sipping at his drink and casting looks at the other two occupants of the room who hadn't moved a muscle since he had come in.

Perhaps ten minutes of complete silence passed before it was shattered by the sharp ring of the doorbell. John looked up from his empty cup and read newspaper, wondering if he would be forced to get the door.

It did seem to be something he did often, even though this wasn't his home anymore.

"John," Sherlock said, still staring at Mycroft. "Answer the door, it's probably a client. I'm dying for a new case."

"I just offered you one," Mycroft commented.

Sherlock snorted. "Please, don't be ridiculous."

"I assure you, I am not the one who's being ridiculous. You have that covered yourself, brother dear."

"This isn't my home anymore," John spoke up, hoping to distract them from their arguing. "I don't have to answer the door."

The doorbell rang again, longer this time.

"John!" Sherlock said.

"Fine! God," John relented, standing up and setting his cup on the table.

He threw an annoyed look towards his friend but Sherlock didn't even notice. With a sigh John marched down the steps and to the front door. Mrs. Hudson was peeking out of her doorway but left when she saw that John was going to answer.

I haven't lived here in years and I'm still answering the door, John thought. Some things never change.

As he pulled the door open, he briefly wondered who would be on the other side. He hoped it would be someone interesting enough to get Sherlock going because if John had to sit through another staring contest he was going to kill himself. And he would take Sherlock and Mycroft down with him.

It was a woman in her mid-twenties with curly dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She was dressed in dark blue skinny jeans, a white lace tank top, black leather jacket, and dark brown boots. Her fingers had quite a few rings on them, all silver, and she was clutching the strap of a brown messenger bag.

She was very pretty but there was something oddly familiar about her face, even though John could swear he had never seen her before in his life. Something about her was making his brain tingle, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

"Hello!" She smiled, displaying two rows of even white teeth. "Is Sherlock Holmes in?"

She had an English accent but there was a hint of an American accent in there too, like maybe she lived over there for a while. John smiled to himself, he wasn't quite as unobservant as Sherlock thought he was. Or maybe it was just that the 'Consulting Detective' was rubbing off on him. Whichever the case may be, he could pick up on things too.

"He is," John replied, opening the door further so she could come in. "Come on in."

"Thanks!"

She slipped in, still smiling brightly. John couldn't help but smile back at her, her happiness was a bit contagious.

"Just follow me," he told her, climbing back up the stairs to Sherlock's flat.

When he got back up to 221b, Sherlock and Mycroft hadn't moved, not that he had expected them to. They didn't even look up as John came in leading their newest client or whoever she was. John felt obligated to explain to her why the man she had come to see was too busy staring at his brother to greet her, his manners didn't allow for anything else.

"Don't mind them," John said. "They're always like this. Sibling rivalry or some such nonsense. Please sit down; we'll get whatever problem you have sorted out."

She sat down on the couch, looking more amused than annoyed. John was surprised; most clients were extremely put off when Sherlock ignored them for something he considered more important. John was glad that the woman on their couch seemed to have a much better sense of humor and, apparently, a lot more patience.

She arranged her bag to sit in her lap, her arms loosely wrapped around the bottom of it. It almost looked like she was using it to protect herself, although she didn't look scared. But who knows, Sherlock was rather intimidating, especially when he got going. John couldn't blame her for being prepared, there were times when he wanted something in-between himself and his bizarre friend.

"Sherlock," John muttered, moving to stand next to his friend's chair. "Look, a client, you have a case. Leave Mycroft alone and come talk to this young woman."

"Yes, by all means, go entertain yourself with this trivial matter that has fallen into your lap," Mycroft mocked. "I'm sure it will be very stimulating."

John nearly groaned. Why did he always have to do that? Mycroft was baiting Sherlock and now the 'Consulting Detective' wouldn't take the girl's case. Stupid bloody rivalry. Couldn't Mycroft find someone else to do his work for him?

"Send her away, John." Sherlock waved his hand, as if he was shooing away an irritating fly. "I won't take her case."

"You haven't even talked to her!" John sputtered. "You haven't even looked at her! Five minutes ago you were complaining that you needed a case, and now you have one. The least you could do is find out what it is before you dismiss her!"

"Domestic," Sherlock said. "She has a spouse she needs to have followed or checked up on."

"Boyfriend," Mycroft corrected.

"Boring," Sherlock concluded. "Send her away."

How they could tell that without even looking at the woman was beyond John. The way she walked? The style of her boots? Where she sat? The door had been closed; they couldn't have heard any more than the buzz of voices when she had arrived.

John sighed and turned to relay the information to the girl, even though there was no way she could have missed what Sherlock had said. It made him feel better to give the clients what they just heard in a nicer way, to let them down gently instead of throwing them off.

John gave her an apologetic look but instead of looking disappointed, she looked strangely happy, grinning from ear to ear. She stood up, beaming, and John wondered if she had just been playing a joke or something. Maybe someone had bet her she couldn't get into Sherlock Holmes' flat and she had just won a lot of money by doing so or something.

God knows, Sherlock's fans were crazy.

"I was able to fool the great Sherlock Holmes! And his brother," she said, almost gleefully. "I'm so glad I got that on video, Mummy and Daddy are going to love it!"

She patted her bag almost proudly and John realized that she must have a camera inside, the lens being hidden in the decorative button that held the flap in place. That's why she had been holding it in front of her, she wasn't scared at all.

So it was a bet! John had been right after all. Had to fool Sherlock and get it on video? Well she should be lucky she came when she did, John thought, if Mycroft hadn't been there, she wouldn't have been able to escape Sherlock.

Of course, the fact that they had both fallen for it was rather odd. Usually they did even better together…but maybe it was just a fluke. Everyone had their off days. Even Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.

But why would she show it to her parents? Were they the ones who put her up to it? That seemed a little odd. Maybe they were just the people she was going to show the video to. But that seemed strange too; she was attractive young woman after all. Where was her boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Or any friend that might want to see it?

John thought perhaps she wasn't all there upstairs, which was a pity because she seemed so nice and intelligent at first glance.

Obviously he wasn't as observant as he had thought he was. Ah well, that's what Sherlock was for.

John glanced over at Sherlock and Mycroft to see how they were taking their little failure only to find them both out of their seats and staring at the woman in shock.

That's a bit of an overreaction, John thought, it's not like she shot you in the leg or anything. She just took a video.

But then with the Holmes men, their pride in their mental prowess was everything. John could see how someone tricking them would get them riled up. It didn't happen often. He looked back at the girl, finding her to be still standing calmly in front of the sofa, smiling that bright, pretty smile of hers.

It was almost as if she expected to be recognized and greeted with shock.

With horror he suddenly thought that maybe he was in the presence of someone famous, someone he should know! From the way Sherlock and Mycroft were looking, she had to be royalty! Oh god, the horror that would be! It would explain the familiarity he had at the door though.

But the more he looked at her, the longer he decided that that just couldn't be the case. He had never seen the woman before. She was completely unknown to him.

"It's good to be back in London," she said conversationally, walking towards the group of men, still smiling. "I have missed it quite a bit. America just isn't the same you know. Although I do love it there, it's just not home."

John, unsure what to say or do since he was apparently the only person with no idea what was going on, couldn't hold back the smug satisfaction of being right. She had been in America.

One point for him.

"I do love this flat, it's very cozy, despite the mess," she continued, glancing around. "Although, if I'm honest, I would have been disappointed if it hadn't been a mess. I like it when things don't change."

To John's shock she marched up right to Sherlock and slipped her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest, the top just brushing his chin. Sherlock, who looked completely unsurprised by the strange girl being in his arms, looked down at her with a mixture of amusement, affection, and regret. The last two John didn't think was possible in the quantities of which they were shown.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her in return, resting his chin on the top of her head. It was a platonic hug, John could tell the difference between a romantic one and an unromantic one (he was the expert in that area), but it oozed with connection. Whoever this girl was, she was close to John's friend, very close.

Sherlock cared for her.

"You don't change, do you, Shirley?" She asked, her voice muffled by Sherlock's dressing gown. "Still the same arrogant, childish, and brilliant Sherlock Holmes. At least you've found a real friend to talk to; the skull was probably getting tired of being stared at. The mess really is out of control though, I still don't know how you live with everything scattered about."

Sherlock snorted and she started to pull away, grinning up at him. John was done being surprised when Sherlock smiled back at her and allowed her to pull his head down and press a kiss to his cheek. John wasn't even surprised when Sherlock kissed her forehead, lingering like she was someone very dear to him. John couldn't move, he just stood there and stared at the scene that was taking place before him.

"It's good to have you back," Sherlock said, straightening up.

"Careful, your heart is showing," she teased, before going over to Mycroft whose face was actually showing something that resembled human emotion.

The girl hugged Mycroft tightly too and John practically fainted when Mycroft returned it. He had never seen Mycroft hug anyone, let alone a young female. He had to be dreaming, there was no way Mycroft Holmes would ever willingly hug another human being.

"Ah, Myc, you really need to set a better example. This petty arguing is above you." She pulled back and kissed his cheek. "You're supposed to be cold and detached, not arguing with your brother like a child. Someone might realize that underneath that stuffy disguise, you actually care about people. Where's your friend? You need one."

"Don't be ridiculous." Mycroft sniffed, his nose in the air. But his voice lacked the bite it usually had.

"Mycroft doesn't make friends," Sherlock said drily. "I doubt he even knows what the word means."

The girl reached over and slapped his arm before Mycroft could open his mouth to deliver what would probably be a stinging reply.

"God, Sherlock!" She said, exasperated but amused. "I've only been back ten minutes; can't you both just pretend to get along?"

She rolled her eyes and looked at John, giving him a look that was like 'what am I to do with them?' She moved to stand in front of him, smiling and offering her hand. He extended his own without even thinking and he was greeted with a warm handshake.

"John Watson, I assume. It's very nice to finally meet you. I want to thank you for all you've done for Sherlock; everyone needs a friend, right?" Her eyes beamed up into his own.

"Um…," John tried to get his brain under control. "I'm sorry…I'm afraid you've got the upper hand. I…I have no idea who you are."

The girl looked surprised.

"You don't know who I am?" She blinked then frowned, sighing like she had expected this. "You didn't know who Mycroft was when you first met him either, did you?"

"No…," John said, confused as to what Mycroft had to do with the girl standing in front of him.

She turned and stared at Sherlock anger and he had the decency to look a tad bit ashamed. John was a bit angry too, this girl was obviously important and Sherlock had never mentioned her, not once! It was a bit annoying. John had known him for years, and Sherlock still wasn't able to trust him with his secrets. It made John wonder what else he was missing out on.

"You didn't even tell your best friend about me?!" She glared at Sherlock. "How could you?!"

"It never came up!" He defended.

"John," Mycroft said, rolling his eyes. John wasn't sure why he was acting like he was above such things; he had failed to mention the girl too. "This is Sherlock's and my…younger sister, Calypso."

For a minute John swore the world stopped spinning. Time was frozen as realization crashed into him like a ton of bricks, knocking his thoughts out of whack. That's why she looked familiar! It wasn't incredibly noticeable, but now that she was standing next to Sherlock and Mycroft, he could see the resemblance.

High, well defined cheekbones. Sharp nose. Angular face, although hers was a bit softer and fuller. Eyes that looked out at the world with an intelligence that was almost frightening, collecting data from people and things automatically. She might be younger and female, but John was slapping himself for not recognizing her sooner. She practically screamed 'Holmes!'

Then the fury hit. God, he could kill Sherlock for not telling him!

"You have a bloody sister?!" He yelled, turning to Sherlock. "A sister?! There is another sibling?! Good God! What is wrong with you?! Why didn't you ever tell me?!"

"There was no need to tell you!" Sherlock protested.

"I'm your best friend! Why would you not tell me?! How could you just go and leave out a detail like that! For god's sake, I've been to your parents' for Christmas and I still wasn't informed that there was another child!"

"Mummy and Daddy have never been good about pictures…," Calypso said thoughtfully. "And I assume they thought you'd know. Our parents, bless their souls, live in the same world you do: a world where no one has secrets. They wouldn't have known that Sherlock would keep that from you. Sometimes they're a little too free with honestly…although, in this case, I agree with them. You should have been told."

"I'm sorry for not telling you John," Sherlock said, holding his hands up. "I didn't realize it was important to you."

"Well it bloody is!" John said, running a hand through his hair.

He pulled a deep breath in and tried to calm down. Was he really surprised that Sherlock had kept another thing from him? No, of course not. John had years' worth of times when Sherlock had kept things from him. It wasn't surprising that he had a sister who he had never mentioned (it was, but it wasn't), it was hurtful. John was hurt. Again. He didn't keep things from Sherlock, so he just assumed Sherlock didn't kept things from him.

That's just who he is, John told himself. That's what he does. He keeps secrets. I need to just accept that there are things I might never know and be okay with it. Getting mad isn't going to help. Relax and move on.

"I just can't believe there's another one," John finished lamely, his voice calmer and his breathing less erratic. He tried to ignore the three pairs of eyes that were watching him, deducing his every word. "God above. It's just…hard to get over, you know? Kind of a shock."

"I'm sure it is," Calypso nodded understandably. "I'm so sorry to spring it on you like this, I just thought you knew. Obviously, I expect too much from my brothers."

She shot each of them dark looks which they returned with eye rolls.

"So…," John said, shifting to his other foot, feeling awkward. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Oh! Yes please." Calypso nodded.

John smiled briefly and moved to grab the two chairs next to the table, pulling them over to where the two armchairs rested in front of the fire. He gestured for Calypso to take one and she plopped down into the one closest to Mycroft. John sat down in the chair next to Sherlock, glad not to have to depend on his legs anymore.

One more shock and they'd probably give out.

Sherlock and Mycroft both settled down into their respective chairs and John started to relax, the gathering feeling more casual now that everyone was seated.

"So, Calypso," he said, looking at her. "What's brought you here?"

"Well, I've graduated from University and I decided to come to London to see my brothers," she told him, casting looks towards her family members. "It's been ages since we've seen each other and we need a good catching up."

John missed the way both Sherlock and Mycroft tensed; right before they both looked at their sister hard, studying her. He missed the silent conversation that passed between the three siblings, conveyed through eyes, eyebrows, and the slight shifting of fingers. Calypso dropped her eyes to her hands and Mycroft looked over at Sherlock who glanced at John.

"I'm sure you do," John nodded, oblivious. "What-"

"John." Sherlock burst into the conversation. "The tea has run out. Could you run down and ask Mrs. Hudson to fix some more? I'm out of it myself, but I'm sure Calypso could use some refreshment."

"Some tea would be lovely!" Calypso nodded, almost too eager.

"Oh," John blinked. "Yeah, sure, I can do that."

He stood up and made his way downstairs, a little put out that he was the one forced to get the tea. He was curious; he wanted to know more about Calypso. But no, instead Sherlock had asked him to get her some tea, and, being a gentleman, he couldn't refuse.

He just hoped he didn't miss anything.

Calypso watched John descend the stairs before turning to face her brothers, both of whom were staring at her. She hadn't been lying when she'd told John she'd come back to see them, she had. She'd missed them, truly. But she had also come back because she needed them. And they needed her.

Things were about to change. And not for the better.

"What happened?" Mycroft asked, getting straight to the point.

Calypso hid a smile. That was Mycroft, not waiting for anything, wanting everything upfront instantly. She reached into her bag and grabbed a postcard which she handed to him. On the front was a picture of Big Ben on a sunny, cloudless day. On the back was a message in fine, neat print.

Sherlock gave her a nasty look but she ignored it. He'd get his turn. Mycroft looked at the card briefly before paling and passing it to Sherlock who also looked at it before turned white. Calypso reached over and took it from his hands, glancing at the message she had read over and over since she had gotten it a week after her graduation.

Four days ago.

Dear Elizabeth,

Congratulations on your graduation! I knew you could do it, darling! You've always been so clever. Remember the games we would play as children? Such fun. I hope you'll come see me in London sometime soon; I miss you ever so much. Have you seen Charles and William recently? I haven't. Not since before you went to school. We should have a reunion, it would be a blast. I have a friend who helped me out of that horrible hole I was in so I will be available if you get a chance to come over. Or I could always come see you. Whichever works, sweetie. Let me know. I'll be looking out. Can't have you getting into trouble, can we? You're much too pretty to be out in the world alone.

Until then, darling.

It wasn't signed, but Calypso had known exactly who had written it from the second she read it. Just like she knew her brothers would know too. It wasn't hard to figure out, the names the writer had used were a dead giveaway.

"There is only one person on earth who insists on calling us by our first names, despite our own parents not even using them." Calypso swallowed.

"It's not possible!" Mycroft snapped, slapping the side of his chair. "Lennox is in prison! He's so deep in there that even he could never work himself out. It's just not possible."

"It's his handwriting," Sherlock muttered. "You know it as well as I do, Mycroft. Who else knows our names? No one. Not even John. Well, actually, he knows mine. But he certainly doesn't know either one of yours."

Calypso shifted in her chair. She had hoped that somehow she would be wrong, that the sender would not be who she had suspected. But she should have known better. There was no way she could have gotten this one wrong.

"He mentioned having a friend who helped him out," she said, flipping the card over in her hand.

Mycroft's jaw tensed and Sherlock glared at the kitchen wall.

"Wonder who that could be…," Mycroft said sarcastically.

"Moriarty." Sherlock picked at the strings of his violin. "The only person on earth who has the means and desire to let our brother out of prison and back into our lives."

"The man who tried to kill you," Calypso said, remembering all the papers she had read. "Richard Brooks, right? Supposedly shot himself in the head. I never thought he really did it, and from how you two are speaking…I'm guessing I was right."

"Last Christmas," Mycroft confirmed.

Calypso's satisfaction at being right was drowned out by the horror of what that meant. They didn't just have one person out to get them, they had two.

"He enjoys playing with me." Sherlock rubbed his eyes. "I'm a distraction for him. And now, in order to shake things up, he's adding players to the game. More….personal players."

"So much more fun." Mycroft smiled ironically.

Calypso shivered, thinking about her third brother. To think that someone was purposely letting him out of prison just to mess with them was disturbing. And terrifying. There weren't very many people in the world who managed to scare the Holmes siblings, but their brother was one of them. Maybe because only they knew exactly what he was capable of.

It was the same thing all of them were capable of as well. If they were to give into their darker impulses.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted the three to John's return. They glanced at each other than quieted, silently agreeing to keep John in the dark about what they had learned.

"I'm back with the tea. Mrs. Hudson said that you'll have to go to the store soon, she's tired of making you tea when she's not your housekeeper." John carried the tea tray into the room and sat it on the table, offering Calypso a cup.

She smiled and took it, the postcard safely tucked into her bag once more. She generously added milk and three sugars to her tea, keeping her face neutral to keep John in the dark, where Sherlock obviously wanted him. Calypso couldn't blame him for that; John knowing would only put him in danger. Lennox was not someone who was messed with.

"Did you three have a nice family reunion while I was gone?" John asked, pouring himself another cup.

Calypso exchanged a look with her brothers.

"We planned one," Sherlock said drily.

"Oh?" John looked over at Calypso. "You taking them down to see your parents?"

"Something like that," she agreed, sipping her tea.

"Where exactly have you been?" John asked and Calypso set her cup down in her lap.

She knew he'd get around to asking. He was too curious not to. She couldn't blame him, if the situations were reversed, she would want to know everything about him too.

"America," Calypso told him. "Going to Harvard. Studying to become a lawyer actually. Law runs very deep in our family, if you haven't noticed. I've been there since I was eighteen, eight years. This is my first time to be back home, although Mummy and Daddy have visited me many times. My darling brothers however…never did."

John looked over at them but Calypso could tell he wasn't surprised. He was probably used to the way they worked, without feelings or attachments. Or at least that's how they tried to work. There were exceptions to every rule. Visiting their sister however, was unfortunately not one of them.

"Not surprising that you two wouldn't make any effort to visit your sister in university," he muttered.

"I was keeping England running." Mycroft shrugged. "I didn't have time to run over to that ridiculous country."

"Mycroft had me locked away in institutions," Sherlock told John, with no hint of remorse in his voice. "So you can blame him for my lack of attention."

"How very like you," Mycroft sneered. "Blaming me for your own mistakes."

"Children," Calypso warned. "Behave, or I'll have to call Mummy. And she always did favor me."

Mycroft and Sherlock both huffed but stopped their bantering. Calypso grinned. She'd always had a calming effect on her older brothers, maybe because she was the baby and they felt like they had to be examples for her. There was just no telling with them.

John watched and Calypso could tell he was amused. He looked over at her and she could see the question forming on his lips.

"Sherlock and I are eleven years apart," she answered without waiting for him to ask.

"Eleven and a half," Sherlock corrected.

"I was a 'surprise' baby."

"To Mother and Father anyway." Sherlock smirked. "I knew my mother was expecting before she did."

"I knew before you," Mycroft spoke up. "In fact, I know the very night she was conceived. Christmas time. I was home from University. Mother and Father had a bit too much to drink."

"You're able to deduce as well!" John broke in quickly, and Calypso snickered. She was glad though; she wasn't interested in hearing any more of what Mycroft had to say. It was a bit too much for her to listen to. "I should have known you would have inherited the gift as well."

"Would you like me to give you a demonstration?" She smiled, hoping he would say yes. She enjoyed doing it, although for a different reason than Sherlock and Mycroft.

She knew John would say yes, he was curious after all. He would agree to anything that would give him more information.

"Sure, go ahead," he told her.

She studied him for a second, her eyes raking him up and down, her mind collecting little facts and laying them out, piece by piece, in the picture she was creating of him. She could tell him the basic things, but she was sure those were the things Sherlock had told him. And where was the fun in repeating what other people had done? She would do it her own way.

"You're happily married. Newly so, only a little more than a year," she said, tapping her chin with her forefinger. "Your wife's name is Mary. You also have a young baby whose only a couple months old. A daughter. Her name is…Anne. You have quite a few friends, but only a handful that you're truly close to. Sherlock being your best friend. Most people mistake you two for a couple though, much to your annoyance. People are always messing up, aren't they?"

John stared at her in wonder and she laughed at his face. He was surprised; he hadn't been expecting something like that. Calypso guessed he was too used to Sherlock and Mycroft's approach: facts without the heart.

"Did someone tell you?" He asked.

"Nope," she shook her head. "Family trade secrets."

"Incredible," he breathed, shaking his head in wonder. "Although you figured out things that neither Sherlock nor Mycroft would pay attention too."

Oh god, she thought. Here it comes. She braced herself for what her brothers were about to say, they did so every time this was brought up.

"Calypso has always paid attention to those things," Mycroft said drily.

"Sentiment," Sherlock scoffed.

"She likes dealing with human relationships and emotions. Heart over mind."

"She completely ignores the important things such as logic, reason, and cold, hard facts."

"And yet she wants to be a lawyer."

The two men shared a chuckle and Calypso frowned at them.

"My brothers," she said, glaring at them. "Think themselves gods among mortals. I, however, believe myself to just be slightly above the average human such as you, John. No offence."

"None taken," John smiled. "That's a much nicer way of saying all the things I constantly hear from Sherlock."

"So I would imagine." She rolled her eyes. "I pay attention to the things that matter: the things of the heart. Logic and reason will pass away, but human relationships are what last…and what make a difference."

John blinked. She had surprised him again. She was quite enjoying this, it was fun to surprise John.

"Wow, that's…that's rather beautiful actually."

She grinned. "Thank you."

Sherlock and Mycroft both winced.

"It appears you're the black sheep of the family," John joked, grinning.

Calypso's smile slipped off but John didn't notice. Her brothers did though, they noticed everything.

"No…," she said softly. "Not the black sheep at all."

The comment brought Lennox back to the forefront of her mind. Although she wanted to return to America, Calypso knew she would have to stay England for a while. She couldn't leave until she and her brothers had stopped Lennox. And Moriarty. But the 'Consulting Criminal' wasn't the most dangerous man anymore. She was sure Moriarty had no idea exactly what he had done.

Who he had let out.

Calypso swallowed the rest of her tea in a gulp and set her cup back down on her lap, keeping her hands as still as possible. Her brothers were older, better at hiding it, but she could see the fear. The fear the name Lennox awakened in each of them. Fear of what he could do. Of what he would do.

No one knew better than the three people closest to him.

His brothers and sister.

God help us all, she thought.

Kind of long, sry :D Basically, I believe that Mycroft and Sherlock's brother (mentioned in 3:3) is evil. And based on what Mycroft said, I'm assuming he's in prison. Why...I have a few ideas on that note, but I'm saving those for another fic. If I do another one. This story is just basically my thoughts on how the brother gets out of prison and why he is released. It seems like something Moriarty would do, right? Calypso, is purely for fun. I needed some way for the brother to be introduced and a sister seemed like the best way. Plus, who doesn't think Sherlock and Mycroft having a baby sister would be fun? I don't, however, really think that they do. The names, Calypso and Lennox, were just odd names that I thought go well with Sherlock and Mycroft. Their first names (going off Sherlock admitting to be named William) are all actually the names of British Kings and Queens. Charles (Mycroft), Henry (Lennox), William, and Elizabeth. I kept in theme, even though I am going pretty AU (although I believe part is going to be canon soon). The title is 'Three Bags Full' in Latin, a tribute to the nursery rhyme "Baa-Baa Black Sheep" (and the fact that there are three that are being targeted: Mycroft, Sherlock, and Calypso) which I thought was appropriate considering Lennox being refered to as the 'Black Sheep' of the family. He would be though, wouldn't he? If he does exist...which I'm holding out that he will :D I'll know in two years.

ANYWAY! Enough of that. It's just a fun story after all. Please let me know what you guys think! I would love a review or two :)