I didn't know why they insisted to keep using drug's busts on Sherlock as a pretext for retrieving pilfered evidence, as the man was clearly clean since many years - I had certainly never found anything even while I lived at the place - but this time Sergeant Donavan seemed genuinely scandalised. "You pervert!" she shrieked at Sherlock, pointing towards a black lace bra, half burnt, looking exclusive, amongst his table of experiments.

Lestrade's face immediately darkened and he barked out "did that belong to the victim?!" That, of course, was the moment when the door to my old bedroom upstairs opened and, in general silence, Henrietta Kemnel came down the stairs, looking completely unperturbed as she skipped up to Sherlock, wearing jeans and a white bra, nothing more. She kissed him casually on his cheek, greeting him cheerfully with "morning, brother dearest".

It was still silent as she looked over at his half finished experiment, asking, still just as naturally unmoved "is that my bra you're burning?" Sherlock's reply was simple, and would have been simply provocative to a lot of people. "Yes".

"Good man. Your brother buys me far too much expensive underwear. It is creepy" she merely noted, heading over towards the refrigerator "you better not have any stray bodyparts in the vegetables box this time. I need to keep my milk somewhere. Oh, Hi John! Greg!" She noted suddenly, smiling at us "how are you both doing? How are your girls, John?" I blinked for a second. This woman was really, really suited for the Holmes brothers.

I replied after a moment "they're good. Very good. How's... Mycroft?" I looked in Sherlock's direction - he was back to his experiment, ignoring us. "Is it going... well?" "Yes!" she was smiling warmly, getting the milk out "we actually moved in together. That's why I'm crashing with Sherlock for a couple of nights - My can be overbearing and I cannot have that, now can I?" It was clearly a rethorical question.

Scratch that. She was very, very, very suitable for the Holmes' brothers. Count me in.

"So" Henrietta seemed to be completely comfortable with being in her bra in front of half a dozen (or more) police officers as she took out a clean bowl - from a very specific cupboard, I noticed with approval - and got herself cereal "so what are you guys doing here? It doesn't..." she gave some officer going through a lamp a searching gaze "seem like a social call".

"There, eh..." Lestrade was visibly struggling with where to look "Sherlock had some evidence... drugs bust" he mumbled. She rolled her eyes "well, obviously. I may be a goldfish but I am not a complete and utter idiot. It is elementary to deduce THAT! I meant what case are you all working on?" Her words were strangely similar to something that Sherlock might say, but her tone was far kinder. She was still smiling.

Seemingly without missing a beat, she sat down on the couch, tilting her head as she looked at Sherlock "did you eat, little brother? You are doing that scarecrow thing again". "Mmm" was the surprising acknowledgement from Sherlock of her existance "some toast with the tea". She didn't ask what tea. Maybe she already knew.

She let Sherlock go back to setting things on fire and watching it in his microscope, and I decided to reply finally, after some shocked delay, as Greg clearly had no idea what to say "yes, well, there was a woman who... well, there has been a murder. We aren't quite sure if she was an accomplice or a victim. Or both".

"Oh, I see. Well, if there is anything I can do, do let me know" she smiled "I will be here two more days, before my hundred hours are out". At our somewhat puzzled expressions, she smiled wider "I put Mycroft on time-out, if you will. He hates having his control taken away, so it is quite a suitable consequense of his meddling".

Sherlock muttered something rude about Mycroft, but Henrietta ignored him with what I at least could easily identify as accustomed ease, though I was not sure that Lestrade did. Though probably. After all, he ought to know. She then proceeded to pick up a book and completely ignore all of them as easily as Sherlock himself did. I found myself having to suppress a laugh. Mycroft clearly had his hands full if he wanted to control this woman. Though I actually hoped, for the British government's sake, that he did not make it a habit to kidnap her. I was sure it wouldn't go over well.

The police eventually left, not having found the evidence which as far as all of them were concerned Sherlock had hidden away somewhere. I, for one, was sure it was up in my old bedroom, as Lestrade's team had not managed to motivate searching through Henrietta's belongings, and thus had barely made more than a visual inspection of the place.

Sure enough, that was where Sherlock headed as soon as they had driven off, still ignoring that there were people in his flat. But when he, too, had finally left, Henrietta looked up from her book on bee-keeping and fixed me with her dark eyes. "They are very... particular, aren't they? The Holmes' Brothers."

I gave a slight laugh, nodding, half-exasperated. "That'd be putting too light a point on it, yeah!" She smiled "if I had ever wanted kids, I would have reevaluated after meeting Mycroft... never mind after meeting Sherlock! Could you imagine, little Sherlocks running about?"

I nodded for a second, then said "yes. No, oh god, no". I blinked, then looked at Henrietta, who was seemingly holding back an even wider smile than the one she was currently displaying, and then we both started laughing together.

All recognisable content belongs to its respective owners. I hereby claim full copyright on Henrietta. And her mother. And whatever else is mine. All the other still copyrighted stuff belongs to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and their gang, and I claim nothing else.

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