"He's looking for you again," was the sentence which Sherlock walked into 221B Baker Street with. He looked onto the sofa and folded his arms, seeing the young girl sat there as if she owned the flat. Sherlock cocked a brow halfway up his forehead as he removed his jacket from his shoulders, hanging it up onto the coat stand before he straightened out the skull which was resting on the shelf in the living room.

He sat down in his chair, opening his laptop up and switching it on, leaning back and clasping his hands together whilst he looked at the young girl sat on the sofa. She had her legs folded underneath her and was wearing her zip up hoody along with her black leggings and warm bed socks.

Even a fool could see she had simply rolled out of her bed.

"And what did you say to him this time?" Sherlock asked her as she picked up her phone from the side of her, scrolling through it slowly as she chewed on the gum and Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"Could you not chew gum all the time?" he asked her.

"You're never here," she replied. "It shouldn't bother you. I told him I would get you to call him when you came back. He replied with 'we both know he won't' and then I said-"

"Do stop," Sherlock interrupted her. "This is all too much like gossip. I am guessing the last text he sent informed you a car would be outside this evening?"

"If I hadn't have lived on and off with you for thirteen years I'd have been impressed," she said, pushing a hand through her hair before she laid down on the sofa, resting her mobile onto her flat stomach as she looked up to the ceiling.

"That's why you're becoming boring," Sherlock complained, raising his brows.

"No," she replied. "I'm boring because I'm not dead."

"You're not as fun as a dead body," Sherlock replied. "You've been moping around this flat for the majority of your summer holiday."

"And you don't even know why," she rolled her eyes, her hands resting on top of her forehead.

"Of course I know why," Sherlock informed her. "I'm a consulting detective."

"You know?" she snapped and Sherlock shook his head, typing into his blog.

"Damian broke it off with you, didn't he?" Sherlock checked with her and she huffed once, turning onto her side like a little child, causing her phone to fall to the floor as she moved violently. "There is no reason to sulk about it, Alison."

"He said I was too cold," she hissed. "What did he want from me? And why didn't you say anything?"

"How am I supposed to know what he wanted? And I didn't say anything because I knew it would lead to an awkward conversation." Sherlock said. "You rarely brought him here so I didn't have a chance to speak to him so I didn't know him that well anyway."

"You wouldn't have spoken to him because you would have spoken at him," Alison said, sitting up again. "You'd have scared him off."

"It seems like you did a good job of that yourself," Sherlock muttered, hitting the enter button and posting a new entry to his blog before he stood up, pulling his trousers up onto his waist and making sure his shirt was tucked in. "Now you can help me unpack all of these boxes instead of sitting around and acting like a heartbroken teenager."

"That is what I am," Alison pointed out and Sherlock shook his head.

"It is biologically impossible to have your heart broken," he assured her. "Now up you get."

"Now I'm wishing I spent the summer with mum," she moaned as Sherlock grabbed her hand and hauled her up, placing a box into her hands.

"That makes two of us," he assured her and she stuck her tongue out at him. "I don't know why you didn't."

"Because Geoff is an absolute pompous arse," Alison snorted. "And he has two sons who constantly talk about themselves and I couldn't handle two full months in Australia with them."

"Yet you can handle two full months here?" Sherlock checked with her and she shrugged.

"Mum said she couldn't handle more than a minute in your company so she is shocked as to how I was born," Alison informed her father as she emptied plates into cupboards in the kitchen and Sherlock jumped over boxes, a small grin on his face.

"You're here because of a silly mistake which involves a lot of alcohol and a stupid university party," Sherlock assured her.

"You'd miss me if I wasn't here," Alison assured him, walking back into the living room and placing some books onto the bookshelf whilst Sherlock looked out the window.

"I'd miss you a lot more if you were paying the rent," Sherlock said.

"I'm at college," she told him. "And I have a Saturday job."

"Waitressing isn't going to pay the rent, is it, Alison?" Sherlock checked with her. "And I need a case."

"Well where have you been today?" the blonde wondered and Sherlock looked out the window.

"Whipping a corpse," he simply replied.

"I daren't even ask," Alison assured him and picked up another box which was for the bathroom.

"And because of the rent issue we will have a new flat mate by tomorrow," Sherlock said and she walked away.

"What?" she snapped.

"Your IQ is higher than your mother's so don't act like you didn't hear me. I suppose it is lucky that you inherited some of my brains."

"Who is it?"

"You shall see tomorrow."

...

A/N: More to come! Please review!