Chapter 1 – Flies
"Sherlock Holmes, if you conduct any more of your frigging experiments in my bedroom I will kill you! And before you quip me with that sharp tongue of yours, you know full well that I am studying forensic science at Cambridge, I know 1001 ways to kill you without leaving a trace!" you stumbled out of your bedroom, which you had woken up in to find that you were being kept company by several jars of flies, all buzzing angrily, the sound only slightly muffled by the glass and metal lids. Your flaming ginger hair, matched almost too well by your raging temper, fell a little way down your back, slightly poofy with fresh bed head. As your long pale legs, covered mid-thigh by long grey socks, pounded down the stairs, your green eyes look for the culprit: your brother. The sister of the great Sherlock Holmes, although he and Mycroft never spoke of you. Apparently, you'd be in danger if they did because of their 'dangerous jobs' and 'powerful enemies'. Yeah okay, whatever boys, you could look after yourself, with your black belt in karate and your not inconsiderable amount of boxing trophies. However, seeing as you were rather a lot younger than both of them (19, almost 20), you supposed that they could baby you a bit.
As you reached the kitchen, appearing out of a side door meaning you could enter without having to go through the lounge (hopefully avoiding John, if he had returned from his shopping trip, who would otherwise most likely be sitting at the desk updating his blog – but if he saw you in just a baggy t-shirt, thigh high socks and some black lace brazillian underwear, you didn't think he'd be paying much attention to his computer any more). You turned your back on the living room straight away, not even bothering to see if you were correct about John's whereabouts, too intent on finding Sherlock. And there he was, sat in a chair at the kitchen table, facing the living room at an angle; almost as if he'd been looking at something, but you didn't dwell on that, you got used to it after living with Sherlock Holmes for a while. He looked somewhat startled to see you, and you took this moment of silence on his part to let rip once more.
"Sherlock, you may have been able to do this when it was just you and John, although I honestly don't know how he put up with your bloody experiments and you, but now I'm here there shall be no more experiments left lying around, or anywhere else but your bedroom, unless I give my express permission for them to be elsewhere. Understood?" standing with your hands on your slim waist, you waited for his response, but you got none; in fact, he seemed to be… smirking at you. Almost laughing, actually. This infuriated you even more, as you spoke through gritted teeth with your head cocked slightly to one side.
"What. Are. You. Laughing at?" you hissed, narrowing your eyes and glaring at him. With a small chuckle, he waved his hand, indicating for you to turn around. You whipped your head around, wanting to see what your dear brother found so funny. As you fully turned around, your eyes widened and your mouth fell open slightly in shock; stood in the entrance to the kitchen, just a few feet away from where you were standing, stood three people: the one furthest to your left was a woman with dark skin and short, very curly hair, dressed formally in a grey suit with a black V-neck t-shirt tucked into her high-waisted trousers. A huge grin was plastered on her face, looking directly at you, obviously amused by your recent outburst. Furthest to your right stood a man whose face reminded you somewhat of an eagle's or a falcon's, and he too had the same amused expression on his face; however his eyes, unlike the woman's, were roaming her body. Clad in all black, he really wasn't your type, and his presence alone was starting to creep you out. The man stood in the middle of the two others captured your attention away from the other guy pretty quickly though, and all thought of his creepy aura was gone. This man looked slightly older than the other two – perhaps in his late thirties, early forties? - But his slightly ruffled salt-and-pepper hair was nothing but extremely sexy. His chocolate brown eyes were warm and smiling, matching the cheeky grin on his face, surrounded by slight stubble the same colour as his hair. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his light grey trousers, matching his jacket and contrasting with his white shirt nicely. You noticed his eyes scan your body quickly, but then he locked eyes with you and his cheeky grin turned slightly more sheepish.
"Emma, this is Donovan, Anderson and Lestrade" you heard your brother say from behind you; you could also hear the smile plastered across his face.
"Err… erm…" you stuttered, suddenly very aware of your state of undress.
"Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson, meet my little sister, Emma Holmes." The two men stood still and silent, as did you, however the woman chuckled, still smiling broadly, and stepped forward to shake your hand.
"I'm Sally Donovan, and I do hope I can be around in the future, when you speak to him like that again." She crossed her arms and shot a dark look at Sherlock, before looking back at your kindly. You scoffed,
"That was nothing, you should see me when I get really angry; last time I broke his nose… again." You grinned at her as she laughed and stepped back into line with the two males, who still appeared to be speechless. You suddenly remembered why, as you look down at your pyjamas with disdain and dashed up to your room to hide your embarrassment and your body. You quickly changed into a pair of black jeans and a plaid flannel shirt and ran back downstairs, your quarrel with Sherlock forgotten for the moment; you just wanted to see that mesmerising man with the salt-and-pepper hair again.
When you got back downstairs they were all in the living room, minus John (who you assumed was still out food shopping) and you heard that man – Lestrade, was it? – talking in a thick cockney accent, which was very attractive and gravely, and your fascination in him grew by the second.
"Sorry about that," you announced as you walked into the living room, your confidence returning, "I don't expect company as a general rule when I'm with Sherlock." He sent you a withering look whilst everyone else chuckled and turned to look at you.
"So, let's start again shall we?" you said, smiling.
