Janine pulled on one of Jim's shirts after her shower; it was silky, and she liked how it felt against her skin. Her brother was taller than her, and the back of the shirt barely grazed the tops of her thighs. She walked into the kitchen.
Jim sat at the table, already impeccably dressed.
"G'morning brother," she said in his general direction as she went up on her tiptoes for the coffee. She knew he put it up there just so she'd have to reach like that. What a dick.
Jim plonked away on his laptop and didn't reply. Janine made her coffee- black, no sugar- and her brother's- with milk, one sugar- and she left the cup by his elbow.
She was in the bathroom before she heard him mutter "thanks," but she couldn't blame him for getting lost in thought though. When you were planning the downfall of Sherlock Holmes, you needed to focus.
Janine came back in later with her work clothes on and threw her bare legs up on the table and slipped on her heels, like Cinderella. Jim looked up and watched her for a moment. Janine's legs were long and she was rightfully proud of them and if Jim's look lingered, well that was alright too. When she had put the heels on she made her way to his side, and wordlessly watched her older brother at work.
He was editing his creepy little video again, the one about the knights and Sir-Boast-a-lot. "It looks good," she said softly. "I know," Jim replied.
"So what's next?"
"Well I take Sherlock down and then I make him kill himself."
"Sure where's the fun for me in that?"
Jim looked at her. Her brother had the exact same brown eyes as her, but she saw insanity in his more often than not, whereas her own just seemed emotionless when she stared herself down in the mirror.
"Sherlock is mine."
"But Jim, imagine-" and she leaned over him and shut the laptop, "-imagine me dating him. I'd wear the hat, the deerstalker, and I'd own him, you know I would. Imagine Sherlock Holmes with a girlfriend."
Jim stared her down, and Janine knew that this was a business proposal in its own way, and that she needed to sell it.
"Why," Jim asked evenly, "on earth do you think Sherlock Holmes would want to date you?"
Janine moved back as though he'd hit her.
"Ah okay, if you think so," she said, in that lovely Irish vernacular that they had, meaning that meant I don't fucking appreciate your lack of faith, brother.
"I do," he said, knowing full well, and then he smiled, and that look in his eyes was gone. "Have fun at the office with Mags today."
"Jim," she said joshingly, "you've got to stop calling old Magnussen that, or I'll pick it up off yah," but Jim had already turned back to his laptop, his attention elsewhere. Janine left their apartment, and she began to plan downfalls of her own.