I like doing Justice to minor characters - so I wrote this. I wont be able to update often but I hope you enjoy. ^.^

Gertrude is my own character and more will be explained about her in time.

The auburn haired woman knocked abruptly on the door of the Diogenes club. Her hair was blowing in different directions in the wind and she felt a chill enter her body. It was a bad day to wear a skirt. She pressed down on the hem with a gloved hand and attempted to retain any sort of decency she had left. She smirked to herself knowing full well that silence was of the essence there. It was incredibly fun winding up Mycroft Holmes however so she knocked once more when there was no answer.

She waited.

"Come on you posh git." She murmured under her breath. Grasping the handle she tried to let herself in and to no avail, it was locked. Doubled locked with the chain latch secured in place. It rattled incoherently a few moments later, then a timid man pried the door open and peeked out. He saw who it was and ushered her in quickly. She opened her mouth to speak but he placed a finger to his lips and pointed her in the direction she needed to go. She smiled thank fully and watched the man scuttle away without so much as a reciprocal nod. She continued towards the oak door with a name plate in place that showed in bold lettering:

Mycroft Holmes.

She knocked three times until she heard his voice inviting her to come inside. She then opened the door and crept into the room, letting out a breath of air when she could finally talk. The man was sitting at his desk working on things that the girl genuinely did not care about. A small smile teased his lips when he saw her, so he set down his papers and gestured to a seat opposite him.

"What do you need, my dear?" The ageing man asked the girl with a small hint of affection poignant in his voice. He clasped his hands together thoughtfully and sunk back into his chair. The girl brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear habitually and almost blushed at her answer.

"Oh daddy, I am so bored. Do you have anything I can help you with?" She asked innocently.

Mycroft's smile grew from behind his fingers and he lifted up his diary half-heartedly, looking for things he could occupy his daughter with. He flipped through a few pages before setting the book back on his desk.

"Gertrude."

"- Gertie." She corrected smirking at him.

"Gertie." He corrected, rolling his eyes. "I am afraid I have already assigned dear Anthea to carry out all errands I had planned today, however I do appreciate your kind offer."

The girl's face fell just a fraction and she pouted rather furiously at him. Her lips pursed together and her eyes narrowed grimly in a childish sulk. Her father rubbed his forehead tiresomely and breathed out slowly through his nose. Gertrude it seemed required a lot of patience to raise even now - she was hardly a child any more.

"My dear you are twenty-three, you cannot expect me to always be there to tend to your needs." He spoke truthfully, then an idea came to mind. "I heard your uncle harpooned a dead pig this morning, I am sure you would love to hear him recount that mighty tale."

Gertrude's ears pricked up at the mention of this. "Dead pig? Really?"

"From what CCTV reports told me this morning, he did." Mycroft confirmed, his voice dripping with feigned interest. He could not understand his daughter's heavy fascination with all things dead and gory. No wonder she got on so well with the people at the mortuary - or why she insisted that she attend murder investigations if they did not interfere with important things in her life.

"I'm going to kill him for not telling me sooner." She chimed, bolting up from her seat and almost tripped over her own feet. She almost laughed at her own stupidity and kissed her father sweetly on the cheek, earning a grimace and him muttering something aboutc aring not being an advantage.

"Do give my brother my best wishes." He droned, waving her off.

"I will - goodbye daddy." She grinned, running for the door. Mycroft suddenly stood and held his hand up.

"Please remember where you are, Gertrude. Silence is of the essence here." He reminded her softly before sitting back down again. The girl mouthed a quick apology and tiptoed dramatically out of the door taking huge steps in a feeble attempt to make the Ice-man laugh. She had no such luck and earned a few curious stares from the other occupants of The Diogenes Club. Not really caring about other peoples opinions of her, she continued her theatrical movements until she was finally out of the building. As soon as she touched the pavement she was off like a rocket, determined to hear about this wonderfully interesting concept of harpooning a dead pig.

In his office Mycroft beamed triumphantly and began to type out a text for his little brother.

There is a storm in the form of my daughter is coming,
be prepared. MH

Henry Knight was a lonely man - in every fibre of his being and if it wasn't obvious to those who had met him then he would consider them a fool. It had been twenty years since he had lost his father and even longer since his mother had passed. Anybody else would have eventually been able to overcome their grief but this was not the case for him. He had never had the guidance in life he so desperately needed and it haunted him every day in the worst of ways. If they were still alive he would not be so broken with the effects of post traumatic stress and he would be able to live a happy and normal life free of horrendous nightmares and fitful sleep. In the evenings he would toss and turn, reliving the moment he saw his father dying before waking in a cold sweat and weeping until sunrise.

"Oh God.." He would say, rubbing his temples as he let the tears flow. "What is happening to me?"

Now that he was on a train to London in the early hours of the morning, he knew that he had to be strong. His eyes felt heavy with lethargy and it was still very early morning where the sun was only just poking through the horizon. His hands clasped around the cup of coffee he had ordered and was now waiting for his breakfast to arrive. Henry could not help but notice a young lady sitting accross from him - they had only spoken once when she had politely asked if she could sit at the table with him as the other was full of hungover men strongly smelling of alcohol. She hadn't wanted to move to another compartment as her luggage was heavy and she had grown tired of carting it around with her. Henry had only replied with a polite nod, lost in his thoughts. He had been apprehensive about going to London to speak to the only person who could help him - it was a last resort but he was desperate to repair the damage in his life. He sipped his coffee slowly and watched the trolley girl place his toasted sandwich in front of him. He chewed the inside of his lips before taking a bite out of the toast - it was bland mostly and he wished he had never bothered, grimacing he attempted another bite.

"Ketchup?" The girl in front of him suddenly asked, startling him slightly as the train had been deafeningly quiet since he had boarded. She had noticed his expression and had slid a ketchup sachet accross the table that was originally for her bacon roll. Henry smiled and collected the Ketchup, tearing it open and squeezing onto the sandwich.

"Oh, Thank you." He breathed, his attention still not all there. She eyed him empathetically and leaned forward slightly.

"You look positively terrified, dear." She began, pursing her lips together. "Are you all-right?"

Henry nodded slowly with a mouthful of toast and corned beef - he swallowed and cleared his throat politely. "Quite all-right. It's a little too early for me."

"Oh I can Imagine." She said softly through a smile before holding out a hand to shake his. "Patricia."

"Henry." He replied, using that moment to really look at her. She was quite pretty and he liked the way her dimples showed when she smiled. Their hands parted and he finished off the remains of his breakfast while she consumed her bacon roll. He chatted to her quietly for a good ten minutes - finding out all sorts of things about her in return for stories of his own. He had found out that she was coming home from a late night business meeting in Salisbury and that she was originally from the West Midlands but moved to Woking when she was nineteen. They also discussed how she had a Labrador-pup she loved called Bernie and Henry admitted he was afraid of dogs - he never divulged why but she seemed to shrug it off without a second thought.

"My cousin is afraid of cats and my mother used to have this large Maine Coon. Bloody waste of space if you ask me. As you can imagine family dinners would usually end in her hiding in my brother's bedroom refusing to come out." She explained, a hint of amusement in her voice. Henry smiled smugly and started playing with the napkin that had come with his breakfast, folding it absent-mindedly as he lost himself to his thoughts again.

"Sounds like a lovely family though. " He replied, enjoying their conversation.

"The next stop is Woking." A female voice called from electric reader above the compartment door. Patricia rolled her eyes and made to stand up, pulling a pen from her pocket.

"I guess this is where we say goodbye. It was lovely meeting you Henry."

"You too." He smiled, saddened to see her go.

"Let me give you my number." She muttered quickly, jotting the digits down on the napkin that Henry was using. She grinned at him and waved goodbye.

"Goodbye" He heard her say and she was gone, bustling down the aisle to get to her suitcase from the rack. He smiled fondly at the number on the napkin and reached out to take another sip from his coffee without looking to see where it was. The next thing he knew he had knocked the contents over the table and was mopping it up quickly.

"Shit.." He had forgotten about the number for a split second and when the table was clean it was too late. He grabbed a pen from his pocket and began to trace over the last few digits that had been smudged in an attempt to preserve the pretty girl's phone number. She had been the first show any sort of interest in him in such a long time and he had considered asking her out for dinner - he truly had. In fact he was ready to add her as a contact to his mobile phone. However as the train came to a halt he saw Patricia through the window smiling fondly at an older man who had greeted her on the platform. She looked surprised as though she was no expecting to see him and she hugged his waist as he draped his arms around her shoulders. Henry knew by the way they looked at each other that he had no sort of chance with her and he berated himself for getting his hopes up once more. He scrunched the napkin up sadly and slipped it into his jeans pocket, holding his head in his hands. He'd had girlfriends in the past when he was younger and very few friends now. He found that they always grew tired of him in the long run. The constant panic attacks and babbling about a monstrous hound would cause their cheeks to flush with humiliation and they would leave whilst reminding him he needed help. They never understood why behaved in such a way and he doubted anybody ever would - He only hoped that Sherlock Holmes could help prove he was not crazy even if the only thing that would come of it would be that people wouldn't leave him.

After all, Henry was a lonely man and he would do anything to change that.

Gertrude had decided to hail a taxi shortly after leaving her father when she realised that running like an excited child was impractical for getting around a large city. She inwardly cursed herself for being so giddy again and wished she could just behave like a grown up once in a while - then perhaps people would take her seriously. Closing her eyes she pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and paid the cab driver when they had reached Baker street. He cocked an eyebrow at her and rolled with window down as she alighted the vehicle.

"Oi love, you forgot your change." He grinned, running his eyes sleazily over her body when she turned to face him. Gertrude counted the coins in her hand and shook her head sceptically. She showed him her open palm and clutched the opening on her jacket so that her cleavage wasn't exposed.

"No, I believe I have the correct amount." She replied shortly, feeling a hand grab her wrist when she made to leave.

"Want to go for a drink, eh?" He seethed, licking his chapped lips. His hold on her was tight and she could feel his fingernails dig into her wrist.

"No thank you." She said coldly without any trace of fear in her voice. She tugged her hand away but his iron grip stayed put.

"Come on love, for me?"

Gertrude's eyes narrowed and she yanked her hand one more time, still unable to free it. She could see a surveillance camera facing her accross the street and she knew that her father was tracking her movements once again. She smirked and looked at the cab driver one more time. "Let go of me. My father is an important government official and if he catches you, you will regret it."

"Why should I believe that?" He asked, loosening his fingers ever so slightly. Gertrude could feel his fingers trembling and she knew she was winning the battle.

"Would you risk it?"

He retracted his hand after that whilst glaring and starting the car's engine. He gripped the steering wheel firmly until his knuckles had turned white. Without another word he drove off leaving Gertrude to roll her eyes and rub her wrist gently. This hand't been the first occasion a man had tried to have his way with her but she was incredibly thankful for the safety net her father's work provided. No doubt he would lecture her later on for not asking him to send a car rather than take a taxi. After the case with Jeff Hope she had been asked to be more careful about travelling around London. Not even her father could stop all the bad things from happening to her and she had found that our the hard way.

Not wanting to dwell on painful memories, she fumbled for her key in her coat pocket and unlocked the front door to 221B. Mrs Hudson greeted her in the halfway after bustling down the steps that lead to the flat above. She seemed rather distressed but smiled fondly at the young woman and pulled her into a hug much the same way that a grandmother would. Gertrude chose to ignore the tension in the woman's mood as it would end up making things worse if she questioned it.

"Gertie, it's good to see you." She beamed, patting her gently on the the back.

"You too, Mrs Hudson. I heard something about a dead pig." Gertrude stated enthusiastically, watching the older woman's face turn from affectionate to amusement. Mrs Hudson shook her head and gestured towards the upper level of the building.

"He's upstairs dear - I have so much to do this morning so I'm afraid I can't stop for long." She informed her in a strained voice but still smiling fondly.

"Oh I don't wish to keep you." Gertrude assured softly.

"How about you come over for a good cuppa later on? My, it's been weeks since I saw you last." Mrs Hudson suggested.

"I'd like that." She smiled, her dimples showing when she did so. Gertrude watched her go knowing full well her uncle must have deduced something that nobody wanted to hear. He seemed to do that a lot without understanding that normal people normally feel hurt when he pointed out the things that are wrong in their lives. The difference between him and his older brother was rather striking. Gertrude knew her father would simply ignore other people that lacked importance, claiming that it was simply too tedious to show off to a minority. Sometimes she hated how cold the git could be but in the long run it was most likely the better outlook on life.

Not wanting to wait any longer to hear about her uncle's most recent case, she clambered up the stair-case and knocked on the door. Without waiting for a response she turned the handle and sojourned into the room as though she were in her own home. She found her uncle sitting in his chair fidgeting in his bare feet and blue robe. His hair was still damp so he must have recently gotten out of the shower. John was in the opposite chair reading over something on Sherlock's laptop.

"Luminous Rabbit?" She asked reading over the doctors shoulders.

"Hey there Gertie." He replied, smiling up at her whilst Sherlock nodded, acknowledging her presence. She looked him in the eye as though expecting an explanation to the email on his website.

"John refuses to call Lestrade about an escaped rabbit." He began before before being cut off by Gertrude's snort of laughter. He grimaced and closed his eyes irritably. "Must you be so petulant?"

"I come here to ask about a dead pig and you want to investigate a child's rabbit?" She asked sardonically with her arms folder accross her front.

"You see but you do not observe Gertrude."

The girl breathed out in exasperation over hearing the over-used phrase for probably the hundredth time and decided she shouldn't question it any further. Sherlock was a complex man and not even she or her father could work him out. She shifted from standing behind John to sitting on the couch at the back of the room with her legs crossed over each other. She rested her chin on her her clenched fist and tilted her head slightly to the left.

"Can you tell me about the dead pig now?" She questioned him politely but the conversation was cut short by the bell ringing down-stairs. It sounded like the one for Sherlock's flat. Her uncle suddenly perked up and John held his finger in the air thoughtfully.

"Single ring." He spoke.

"Maximum pressure just under the half second." Sherlock continued.

"Client." They both spoke simultaneously.

Gertrude eyed them curiously and waited for him the answer the door. John didn't show signs of moving to the landing either - perhaps waiting for Mrs Hudson to let them in. It must be something the residents of 221B were accustomed too. Instead he was moving from his chair and arranging the cushions for the client to feel for comfortable. On most occasions people would only go to them if they were desperate - it usually came encased with anxiety and severe stress. The comforting atmosphere would make up for Sherlock's cold disposition.

"You are both obsessed." - I never wanted to hear about that pig anyway..She wanted to add.

"You ran here to ask about my latest case at the mention of blood." Sherlock retorted with a triumphant smile. He'd moved from his chair and strode towards his bedroom to dress more appropriately. She gaped at him and lost the ability to make any sort of decent come back. He turned away and she held her hands up in defeat. The bell rung again and nobody seemed to show signs of answering it any time soon.

"I suppose I better answer that then" She grumbled, getting to her feet. Neither of the boys reacted to her talking which frustrated her. Still, she jogged down the stairs to the bottom floor. As soon as her feet touched the ground she heard her uncle calling her.

"Gertrude we need milk!" He demanded, his footsteps audible from where she was standing. He must have put his shoes on in that length of time.

"Get it yourself!" She called back just as loudly but there was no reply. It would have been pointless arguing with him and the shop was only just around the corner. She would let the client in, show him the way to the living room and then pop round to the corner shop. She hadn't had much experiences with helping her uncle so she was practically bursting in anticipation. She sported a confident and welcoming smile and unlocked the front door, prying it open slowly to see who was waiting for her. What she found was a man not much older than her with trembling hands and a slightly scared expression across his face. He gawked at her before regaining the ability to speak again.

"I must have the wrong building. I am looking for Sherlock Holmes?" He explained, smiling apologetically at the girl in front of him. His voice was soft and he seemed to have gained a little more confidence. Gertrude held a hand up and smiled toothily - affectionately whilst looking at him with gentle eyes. She was going to deduce him, but that would be rude. She figured that she would simply wait for him to tell his story, it would be more beneficial to his nerves. He looked down at his feet embarrassed but returned the look a moment later, smiling sheepishly.

"Don't worry." She shook her head, speaking kindly. "This is the right building. I'm only dropping by to visit."

"Oh, right. " He replied. "My name is Henry Knight - I-if you were curious."

Gertrude couldn't help but pity the poor man. He must have found it incredibly hard coming here today and she applauded him mentally for that.

"Gertrude - Sherlock is my uncle. I'm the nice one" She joked and held out a hand to shake. When they did their hands lingered in that shaking motion for a few moments as she brushed her hair away from her face. She giggled slightly through a lip she didn't know she was biting and he chuckled amused by the way she was behaving. He knew she was joking to help him feel a little better and he hoped that her uncle wasn't as rude as people said he was.

"Is he in right now?" He asked, his eyes scanning the building. The amusement in his voice seemed to fade again as he remembered why he was there. Gertrude nodded and stood out the way so he could enter, which he did. She pointed to the stairwell and buttoned her coat tightly around her chest as it was quite chilly outside.

"Yes, just upstairs. First door you see." She informed him. He saw her getting ready to leave and his eyes bore many questions. "Sorry, I've been forced into going to buy milk. I'll talk to you properly soon. The shop isn't far - You probably saw it on the way here."

Henry nervously shuffled to the bottom of the stairs. "First door I see?"

"Yeah, the one right in front of you. I'll see you soon." She explained before swinging on her shoulder bag. He timidly climb each step, his hands shaking again. Gertrude watched him disappear into the darkness before leaving 221B to fetch that bloody milk.

"Poor sod." She thought. Hopefully Sherlock would treat him kindly.