A/N: I've always wondered what Sherlock's sister would be like if he had one and this is the result! It's definitely going to be a multi-chapter story, I've got about 10 chapters, give or take a few, in mind. I'd like to apologise in advance for any offence Sherlock's sister may cause due to her dislike of America. By the way, this is set in A Scandal In Belgravia after the pool scene but before Irene, when they're doing all those cases. I hope you enjoy!
1. A SISTER BY BLOOD; A FRIEND BY CHOICE
Sherlock had stolen John's laptop. Again. And was ranting on about tobacco ash on his website, The Science of Deduction. Again. And John was reading the newspaper while drinking his tea. Yes, pretty much an abnormally normal day, and so John savoured it, because there sure weren't many. He half expected Lestrade to burst in with another case and then Sherlock would jump up and down like a child, and the day would take a drastic turn.
The whole day went by, and no such drastic turn. Which was just strange, really, reflected John. He was actually beginning to worry; especially when he had come back from the store with some milk (where he also fought with the self-checkout, as per usual) and there were no bullet holes in the wall, no experiments for velocity in the air, nothing. Sherlock was being quiet and was actually behaving. Then Sherlock got a call from Lestrade. And so the drastic turn commences, John thought. Yes, there was a drastic turn. But not the expected one.
"Can't. Busy," Sherlock said then immediately hung up, before the stunned Lestrade could say a word.
"Busy?!" John exclaimed, "You've been doing nothing for the past day!" Excluding the rants about the tobacco ash, John added mentally.
"Yes, John, busy. Didn't you hear me?" Sherlock said, never tearing his eyes away from the screen, except for one glance at John and to say, "Tobacco ash rants are important," with the hint of a smile. John sighed. The mind-reading again.
Just then, the kettle clicked and Sherlock rose out if his seat. What on earth did he need the kettle for in an experiment?
"Don't destroy the kettle please, Sherlock. It would be rather annoying to have to get another one," John said.
"John, your assumptions are incorrect, as usual," John rolled his eyes. The day was getting back to normal. "I am making tea!" Sherlock exclaimed. John stared at him for a few moments. The day was most certainly not getting back to normal. If anything, it was getting stranger. Sherlock got out three cups. What?! Then, the grinning skull on the mantelpiece caught John's eye. No. Impossible. Or maybe not?
"Oh, is the skull getting tea now, too?" John said, not completely sarcastic.
"That cup better be for me; bloody freezing out there!" A voice said. Hang on; the skull was talking?! Then John realised that the voice came from the door. He turned there to see a young woman in her early twenties or so, with dark locks rippling over her shoulders and mischievous yet intelligent, sparkling green eyes.
Silence. John was stunned (how on earth did she even get in?) and Sherlock was deducing. "Well you're absolutely marvellous hosts." She said sarcastically. Suddenly, Sherlock's face broke into a huge smile and he gathered the girl in his arms and lifted her up into the air. She laughed and hugged him back. Their smiles seemed to be radiating the whole room, lighting it up as effectively as sunshine.
"Just like when we were younger," Sherlock said to her, with a caring expression. Caring was an emotion that Sherlock was capable of?! Hugging was an action that Sherlock was capable of?! John was so bemused about this; he didn't even register what Sherlock said. John thought he was the one who knew him best. Perhaps, after all, he didn't know him that well.
"Tea?" Sherlock asked the girl. John was still really confused about everything. Because quite frankly, who wouldn't? There was a stranger in the house, and even if that weren't enough, Sherlock was not being arrogant or deducing her whole life story; in fact, he was being nice. John sighed; this was probably a dream.
"With pleasure," The girl said with a grin. Now it was just John and the stranger. Well this was bound to go well.
"So …" John started. He certainly wasn't one for awkward silences.
"Don't feel the need to fill the silence, John Hamish Watson," The girl said, falling back onto the armchair.
"I don't know you. How on earth do you know my full name?" John asked. Suddenly, a terrifying thought entered John's brain. "Are you stalking me?!" John blurted out before he could stop himself. The girl laughed. John heard a laugh from the kitchen too. Was there a joke that he was missing here? Little did he know that it had been this girl's job for the past eight years to stalk people.
"No, I'm not actually," She replied.
"Okay then … Can we start over?" John said with a hopeful smile.
"Very well," The girl said, obviously trying to hide a smile. She leant back and crossed her arms expectantly.
"I'm John-" John started.
"Yes, I know," The girl interrupted with an exasperated expression. John glared at her.
"Well you're not supposed to!" He countered. He felt quite at ease talking to her like this, as if they had known each other for a long time; maybe because she was familiar. Familiar?! John had never seen the girl in his life! But there was a certain aspect of hers...
"Fine!" The girl sighed, "Nice to meet you, John!" She put on a huge, fake smile and an outrageous posh, tea and scones accent. Scones like 'bones', like they say it at posh tea parties.
"Okay, okay, forget that. What's your name?" John resigned.
"Gabrielle," She replied.
"Oh …" John said. He was expecting something more … unique, like Gwen or something. Sherlock came back with three cups of tea. Gabrielle smiled.
"You sound surprised, John. Perhaps it's how normal the name is. Or perhaps you're referring to the tea. From what I can recall, Sherlock isn't the best housewife." Gabrielle said with a smirk at Sherlock.
"A thank you always does the trick, Gabrielle," Sherlock replied, placing the cup in her hands. John almost snorted. So the phrase 'thank you' hadn't been deleted.
"The trick to what Sherlock? The 250 types of tobacco ash?" Gabrielle retorted with a mocking smile. Sherlock sniffed in disdain.
"243-"
"Yes John; fortunately for me, my parents were not stoned when they decided my name. The same cannot be said for my brothers," At the last line, John was confused. Why randomly bring up her brothers? And why was she smirking at Sherlock, who was looking rather hurt?
Then, it hit. Of course! That same dark, curly hair. The same stance. The same annoying attitude. And the fact that she knew everything. It all added up. And it is true, what she said; seriously, Sherlock? Mycroft?
"Dear Christ!" John exclaimed.
"What?" Gabrielle asked.
"You're his sister?!" He shouted. Gabrielle gave him a look to say, "Oh, well done."
"John you are hurting my eardrums," Sherlock simply mentioned.
"Oh, well, ex-cuse me!" John said loudly, "I didn't even know you had a sister!" Then, he sighed, "You know what. I'm not going to … I'll just be here drinking tea if you need me,"
"Sherlock. I feel hurt for the lack of introduction," Gabrielle said with mock sadness. Sherlock did not reply.
"So … um … why are you here?" John asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He also wanted to ask 'How long are you staying? Are you staying here? But that seemed like too much, and he didn't want to make a bad first impression by asking too many questions.
"I am back from America. Yes, I will be staying here. I don't know for how long. And, by the way, I've been talking to you for the past five minutes; you've already made a first impression," Gabrielle replied, both to his spoken question and mental questions.
"Oh, so you do it too," John sighed.
"Do what?" Gabrielle asked with a mask of innocence.
"The mind-reading," John said.
"It is not mind-reading. It is simply mere observations," Gabrielle said as she continued to sip her tea. The link between her and Sherlock was definitely obvious now.
"So how were the States?" Sherlock asked.
"Boring. I worked with the CIA a bit. They're all stupid. And boring. They don't think. Most of them lower the IQ of the whole street whenever they open their mouth; and whenever they are in possession of food, they act as if they never will be again." Gabrielle remarked. Well she certainly didn't keep her opinions to herself.
"Come on Gabrielle. There must have been something that interested you in America," Sherlock said but he was smiling.
"Oh, yes. Their accents. I asked for some water three times and they didn't understand. I had to put on a stupid Texas accent just so they would understand that I didn't want a coke. So, anyway, I am back! It's been a while …"
"Did they find you?" Sherlock asked quietly. Gabrielle simply nodded. John didn't ask; he knew he wouldn't get an answer. And considering the sombre look on both of their faces, he didn't want to. The silence hung in the air.
"Um …" John was being very awkward indeed. And simply thinking about the situation being awkward, made it even more awkward. So John found it necessary to induce a conversation as soon as possible. Simultaneously with these thoughts of awkwardness, John realised that his earlier question had never been answered.
"You never did answer my question; why are you here?" John asked Gabrielle, who stared at him for a few moments, as if deciding whether she could tell him or not. A second after the question had been asked, John was already getting annoyed. For God's sake! She was going to stay in this bloody apartment with them for who knows how long and she wouldn't even tell him why?! Sherlock's parents were crazy to make more than one offspring.
"Let's just say that I ran into a bit of trouble," Gabrielle answered evasively.
"So I'm not to be trusted with the whole truth?" John asked.
Before Gabrielle could answer, the blaring sirens cut through the noises of the wind and reached the trio. Gabrielle jumped out of her seat to stare out of the window.
"I must bring you good luck, Sherlock," Gabrielle said, grinning widely. John sighed. Well it wasn't particularly good luck for the person who had just died.
"Yes, Gabrielle. You must," Sherlock replied, returning the grin, already grabbing his coat and scarf. Gabrielle did the same, swallowing the last of her tea in one, rapid gulp.
"Sherlock, you need to come. Supposed suicide," Lestrade appeared at the door frame.
"Will be there. Send the police cars away, will you? They're annoying," Sherlock replied. Lestrade nodded and ran down, his feet echoing against the wooden floor. Gabrielle punched the air and Sherlock high fived her. John had never seen him like this. Well, he had, but not with somebody else as crazy as him.
"John! You coming?" Gabrielle shouted as brother and sister ran down the steps like crazy and ecstatic five year olds rushing off to dinner. John sighed. He would never know whether he would be trustworthy in her eyes now. So he might as well go.
"Of course."
A/N: I hope you liked it! I actually got the 'water mishap' from a friend of mine who went to America, so credit to her there. Thanks for reading and please review if you have the time, it's always great getting feedback :)