"Honestly Daddylock, how can you get upset with me over the state of my room when the whole flat looks like this?" Raven complained, pulling her hair up into a short ponytail.
"I don't have time for the trivialities of cleaning," Sherlock replied simply, pulling his violin out of its case. "You, however, do."
The sixteen year old scoffed. He could care less about her room, provided it was all kept to her room. She knew what this was; John often chided Drew about cleaning up, so Sherlock had naturally observed it to be something that parents did.
"Whatever. What're all these?" She asked, lifting papers from the table and holding them up.
"You have eyes, Raven, why don't you tell me?"
Great. A test. "They're articles from the newspapers. All grim, so cases you've worked or have at least been interested by. My point was why are they on the table? We could occasionally eat dinner here, you know."
"You're not here enough to justify moving my supplies."
She cast a glance at the microscope beside her. "He likes you more than me, apparently," Raven told it. The detective ignored her and lifted his instrument to his chin. "Can I clean it off for just today so we can maybe have John and Drew over for dinner? I go back to school in a couple days and it would be nice to have one normal meal together. I mean, we're practically all family." No answer. "I'll put it all back exactly how it was."
He was quiet a moment, and she held her breath. "There hadn't be a paper out of place when you put it back or you can spend Christmas break at school."
It may or may not have been a valid threat, but she grinned as the sweet sounds of violin filled the room.
It was hard not to look at all the papers as she picked them up. Some of the articles were quite old, dating back to even before her birth. Why they were still on the table, she didn't know. Articles about murders and robberies, a Chinese smuggling gang – that was interesting, she'd have to research that one later – and the odd obituary.
One in particular caught her eye, mostly because of how dull it was. Car accident claims the lives of two. Peter and Grace Verner. Their obituaries were held to the back of the article with a paperclip. Out of curiosity, Raven flipped to them.
VERNER, Grace (nee Holmes) - Grace passed away suddenly
"She was my cousin."
She looked up at the detective. He looked out the window, focused on his playing, acting as though he hadn't noticed her, or said anything at all.
Raven smiled to herself, slipped the articles into her pocket and continued on.