"Finally! Where the hell have you been?"

I narrowed my eyes at my three sisters who took up the entire couch. The one with crossed arms, Marigold (the oldest), had been the one to speak. My other two sisters, third oldest Violet, and fourth oldest Myrtle, gazed at me with raised eyebrows. I slowly shut the door to the room behind me and leaned back against it.

Neither Mari or Vi looked anything like me, unlike Myrtle. The two of them had dark brown hair (Vi's actually had a reddish tint to it) and brown eyes. Mari had a tan like me and Violet was the palest person in our family. Both were roughly the same height which was still about two inches smaller than me. Myrtle on the other hand looked exactly like me, besides the fact that she was quite pale too but not as pale as Violet. Myrtle and I both shared the same shade of blonde when it came to our hair and bright blue eyes. The only differences there were between us was the fact that she was a good six inches shorter than me and I had a greenish tint to my eyes whenever the sun hit them. Unfortunately none of them had to wear glasses like I did.

"Where are the kids, Mari?" I asked back, nodding over towards where her husband sat near the fireplace. Richard eyed me for a few seconds before returning his attention back to the fireplace. He scowled and crossed his arms. "Aren't they a little young to be home alone?"

Richard was roughly two inches taller than me but still smaller than Sherlock. Where Sherlock was tall and kind of lanky, Richard had a bit of a bulk to him. He had muscles that were quite noticeable no matter what the guy wore. He had cropped short brown hair that had a rough look to it and dull green eyes. Just like now, he was never seen without a jacket of some sort.

"Lydon is thirteen and is able to care for himself and his little brother Marlin," she told me. "But it doesn't matter. They're both asleep and I have one of our friends watching them in case either wakes up."

"Besides," Violet began. "We're here to discuss you and this predicament you've gotten yourself in."

I scoffed. "What predicament? I've decided to move out of Aunt Lily's home and into my own."

"Yeah. And with a psychopath," Mari muttered.

I angrily exhaled through my nose. My fists clenched down by my sides, tightly gripping at my jeans. I had just been through that horrible conversation once already today with Donovan. I was not in the mood to do so again. Especially since these were my sisters and I had been ready to fight/murder the officer. I had barely been here in the flat for one day. Can't they just let me appreciate what I've got for myself?

"He isn't a psychopath, Mari!"

She scoffed. "Yeah. You've told us."

Myrtle rolled her eyes. "Because a sociopath is much better."

"I'm not even sure how the two of you get along together," Richard piped in. "The man with who doesn't care for other people's emotions and the girl who has too many to count. Doesn't make any sense."

"Well, it's none of your damn business what I do or who I live with," I growled. "None of you. Especially you, Richard! You're only family by bloody marriage."

"Which makes him still your family," Mari snarled. She stood up and marched over to me. My eyes widened a little and I shrunk back against the door. I swallowed when she was almost pressed up against me. Mari rose up onto her toes so we were touching noses. "Don't snap at my husband just because he was saying what we all think about you and him."

"Back off, Mari," I hissed through clenched teeth.

She didn't move, though. She just stayed right where she was. Her eyes narrowed a bit. I had to close my own eyes when she didn't budge whatsoever. Her breathing was hot and itchy on my face. It tickled a little.

"So where were you tonight?" she asked. "You never did answer the question."

"Why do you care? Any of you for that matter? You aren't the boss of me. You aren't Mum."

I yelped as she smacked me across the face, knocking me over and onto the floor and causing my glasses to go flying off my face. My eyes snapped open to see her glaring down at me while Violet and Myrtle looked away awkwardly, pretending that nothing huge had just happened. I glared back at Mari as she then picked me up by the lapels of my jacket and shook me a bit. I kept my mouth shut and held a hand to my now sore cheek. My other hand gripped one of her hands that had my jacket.

"Don't you dare speak her name!" she hissed. "She lost that title long ago."

"Just because she lost it," I spat back, "doesn't make her anything less than that."

Marigold snarled and tossed me back onto the floor. The back of my head whacked against the floor and I could already feel multiple bruises starting to form. I groaned a bit and pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes. I had bit my tongue as well at the impact and I could taste the blood. I turned over a little bit in order to spit it out onto the floor.

Not going to cry. Not going to cry. Not going to cry.

I swallowed hard, returning to laying on my backside, and pressed my hands harder against my eyes until I could see stars. "You think I don't understand?" I gave a sad chuckle and shook my head a bit. "I understand perfectly, Mari. I was there. I almost died because of her. Not that you'd understand. You weren't living in the house anymore so you didn't have to face that godawful day."

There was a knock on the door. "Bluebell!" Mrs. Hudson called through. "Are you all right, dear? I thought I heard a thump. Is your family fine?"

I swallowed and shouted back, "I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson. We're fine. I just had a fall is all. Pure accident!"

"Well, okay then. Try and be more careful."

Once Mrs. Hudson's footsteps were gone Mari said, "Come on. It's time we leave anyway. We actually have lives to attend to unlike Bluebell."

"How the bloody hell do you do it?" I whispered.

I heard my two other sisters rise to their feet as well as Richard. I kept my hands against my eyes even when they walked past. The door opened, but the footsteps stopped as Mari asked, "Do what?"

"Have a family when you're so cruel and violent. You're going to turn them into monsters just like our family was."

Footsteps then sounded out the door and down the steps, but only three pairs. The fourth stayed where she was. "I'm not going to turn them into monsters, Blu. My boys are smart. They make good decisions. I love them and help them along so they can even make better decisions. I act cruel and violent to you, though, because it seems that in our little family of 'monsters', you're the only one who isn't making the correct decisions to have a life. You don't seem to understand, Bluebell. You go off running around with a detective just because you love him. You're twenty-four, Blu. It's time to grow up. Live a real life and stop acting like a pathetic and lovesick idiot."

"I do live a real life," I hissed. "I save lives and I intend to do that alongside Sherlock Holmes until the day I die. I don't do it because I love him. I do it because I can. I don't want other people to end up like our family has become. Broken and scarred!"

"You still don't get it, do you?! Leave the damn past alone and move on with your bloody life!" Mari then gave an irritated sigh. "Goodbye, Bluebell. We will be back to discuss this some more another time. Hopefully next time you will actually listen to us and do as we tell you."

"I doubt that," I muttered once she was gone. "I really, really doubt that."

When Sherlock came in roughly ten minutes later, I was on the couch curled up in a ball staring at my laptop screen as music came forth from it. I had already cleaned up the blood I got on the floor and had put my glasses back on my face. I barely gave Sherlock a glance when he walked into the room, but I had to give a double take when I saw the pink suitcase he held. I stared at his backside with wide eyes as he entered the kitchen and placed it down onto a chair. Even after he took off his coat and scarf and had put them away followed by his black jacket that he placed down on the table, I stared at the brightly pink case.

After a few moments, I brought my attention up to him and slowly sat up. I turned off the music and closed the lid of my laptop. I sat back with my backside against the couch as he came over to me and the sofa. He sat down with his feet at one end and then moved so his bum was in my lap. I brought my hands in the air as he leaned his backside against the pillows and then brought them back down once he was comfortable. I put one down on his chest and the other on his leg where I clenched the material of his black trousers.

"How did your talk with your sisters go?" he casually asked as he closed his eyes. I blinked down at him in surprise. He placed his hands in a prayer position under his chin. He was thinking. "I could smell their perfume the moment I entered the flat. A bit of cologne too so I'm guessing that a husband was here as well."

"It went...fine. Same as always," I admitted. "Mari slapped me, but it could've gone much worse, I guess."

He sighed and cracked open one eye. "She slapped you?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"And you didn't get her back?"

I shrugged and gripped the fabric of his trousers tighter. "Wasn't in the mood to today. I just wanted them to leave so I could be alone. If I'd have slapped back, they'd still be here and one of us would be at the hospital right now. Not much use to the case I am if I would be the one who was put in a hospital."

Sherlock nodded and closed his eye again. "I need to borrow your phone, Blu."

"Well, that would depend. Are you going to get up anytime soon?"

"No. Not at the moment anyway."

"Then I guess I can't help you."

"Why not?" he asked annoyed.

One of his eyes cracked open again and I nodded over towards the floor. He turned his head a bit to stare at where my phone was in the kitchen. "Fell out I guess when I got knocked to the floor. Skidded all the way under the table. Didn't quite realize that she hit me so forcibly. Hope it's not too damaged."

Sherlock frowned. I jumped when he suddenly shouted, "Mrs. Hudson!" No instant reply. She must have gone out. If she heard me when I thudded with the floor and not Sherlock yelling at the top of his lungs, she's either out or something is really wrong with her. "Mrs. Hudson! Phone!"

"Why do you need a phone anyway?" I asked him.

He ignored me. "Reach into my pocket and text John." I rolled my eyes but awkwardly reached into his trouser pocket. It took me a few seconds, since he was pressed up against me, but I was able to get it out. The detective's eye closed as I looked down at him in wait. "These words, Blu. 'Baker Street. Come at once if convenient.'"

I typed the words in as quick as I could and finished it off with his signature SH that he always put at the end of any text. Not sure why he did it since his name would be listed in our phone's contact information as Sherlock Holmes, but he did it anyway. It was almost as if he was proving to us that that was him and not an impostor. I pressed the send button and we waited for the doctor to answer back.

I then realized that, not to my knowledge, Sherlock never got John's number from the man. Instead of asking, though, how he knew, I just shook my head at him. It's his business how he got the number. For all I know, he could've memorized the man's number when he borrowed John's phone yesterday at the hospital. Not going to ask.

"You better hope we aren't bothering John, Sherlock," I murmured as the seconds ticked by and he still hadn't responded back yet.

"I need his phone," he answered. "Now text him, 'If convenient, come anyway.'"

"He hasn't answered yet to the first one."

"Just do it, Blu."

I rolled my eyes and moved my hands and the phone onto his chest as I texted John again what Sherlock told me. "You're so lazy," I muttered at him once I pressed send.

"You always say that, Bluebell, and yet you always seem to do things for me."

I pulled up the internet on his phone as I gave a roll of my eyes. I went onto my email and looked to see if I had any new ones. Just a few from some websites I like to go on but that was it. Nothing really exciting. I exited out of it and went back to waiting for John's text reply.

"One day I won't be there to do whatever it is that comes from your mouth," I told him. "I'm not your pet, you know. I don't always listen or come when called. I do it because I want to and because I care about you."

This time both his eyes opened. He blinked a few times before peering up at me. His mouth turned into a frown. "I never said you were, Blu."

I sighed. "I know, I know."

His frown deepened more in concern. "Were you talking with Donovan again?"

"No...maybe. More like arguing," I murmured. "Almost had a fight with her too." I gave another sigh. "It's been such an eventful day. Dealing with my aunt, moving out, Donovan, the dead pink lady, and then my sisters. What's worse is the day isn't over yet. Anything else you want me to text John?"

"Yes. Tell him. 'Could be dangerous'."

I did what Sherlock asked and placed his phone back into his pocket once I finished. I then leaned my head back and closed my eyes. My fingers went back to gripping his trousers, but they were more relaxed this time as I slowed down my breathing.

I think I must've fallen asleep because when my eyes opened again, John was just opening the door and stepping inside. I rubbed at my eyes to get the tiredness out of them before giving the doctor a wide smile. Sherlock was still on me and the couch. His eyes were wide open and his face looked relaxed. In front of my face was one of his balled fists. My gaze moved down to the arm that was connected to the fist and saw three round patches that were stuck to his skin. I frowned, but didn't say anything. He must have gotten them when I fell asleep. The hand connected to the arm with the patches turned from a balled fist to a relaxed position, really indicating that they were now working on him. His other hand fell back from the patches and moved to his chest.

I didn't mind when he would lay on me, whether just because he wanted to or because he was thinking, but I hated it when he did it with the patches. I didn't approve of any type of drugs or cigarettes or his patches. He knew that too, but I guess the case was so bad that he didn't really care, not that he ever did. He did have on three of them. I could be in the middle of typing up an email and he'd move the device out of my hand just to lay down on me and the couch so he could think. We had such a complex relationship. I wonder if this is what friends really do with one another...

I'd have to ask Jim when I got the chance.

"What are you doing?" John asked, shutting the door. He eyed us carefully, seeing the position we were in, but more Sherlock in particular and his patches.

Sherlock continued to stare at the ceiling as he calmly replied, "Nicotine patch." He brought the sleeve covering the arm higher up so John could see them all clearly. "Helps me think. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work," Sherlock added on, pronouncing the 'k' in work with a click.

"It's good news for breathing," John responded.

I pointed at the doctor and gave him a thumbs up. "I agree wholeheartedly, John!"

"Uh, breathing! Breathing's boring," the detective told us.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm so sorry that you're alive, Sherlock. I didn't realize that it was such a burden for you. Let me just go and buy your gravestone for you and then help put you out of your misery."

John moved closer towards us, his eyes narrowed a bit and his eyebrows scrunched together. He carefully eyed Sherlock's arm. "Is that three patches?"

Sherlock moved his hands together into his prayer position beneath his chin. "It's a three-patch problem."

Sherlock sighed softly and closed his eyes. I rolled my own and shook my head. John continued to stare down at him before giving the window a quick glance. I tilted my head a bit and raised an eyebrow in confusion just as he looked back over at us.

"Well?" he asked Sherlock. He waited for the man to answer, but he didn't. "You asked me to come. I'm assuming it's important.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open. He slightly glanced at John out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?"

"Sorry," I instantly told John.

John looked up at the blank wall above Sherlock's and my head. He appeared a little irritated as well as confused. He looked back down at the detective after a moment. "My phone?"

Sherlock gazed back up at the ceiling. "Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognized. It's on the website."

"Mrs Hudson's got a phone..."

"Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear."

"Blu's got a phone," he tried again, this time a bit angry.

"It was on the floor in the kitchen and I didn't want to pick it up," he told him.

"Sorry!" I said again. I bit my lip when I saw how angry John was getting.

"I was the other side of London."

"There was no hurry," Sherlock replied.

John glared at him and shook his head just slightly. After a few moments of him just staring down at Sherlock, probably trying to contemplate whether it was worth his time to hurt the man or not, he dug his phone out of his jacket pocket.

"Here," the man told Sherlock.

John put out his phone for the detective to take from him. Without opening his eyes, Sherlock put up a hand with the palm near his face. John's frown deepened when Sherlock made no other move to grab it from. He angrily stepped forward and slapped the phone into the detective's hand. As he started to turn and walk away, Sherlock put the phone between his hands. He brought his hands back up into a prayer position beneath his chin, except this time with the phone held tightly in the middle.

"So what's this about – the case?" John asked.

"Her case," Sherlock replied softly.

John turned around to stare at him again. "Her case?"

Sherlock opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. "Her suitcase, yes, obviously." He sounded annoyed that John wasn't quite getting it. "The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake."

"Okay, he took her case. So?"

Under his breath, Sherlock replied, "It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." His voice got louder as he said to John, "On my desk there's a number. I want you to send a text."

John stared at Sherlock as the man grabbed the phone between his hands and held it up for the doctor to take back. John gave a tight-lipped smile. "You brought me here...to send a text?"

"Sorry," I whispered for the third time.

"Text, yes. The number on my desk."

I stared at John as he glowered down at Sherlock. Sherlock appeared oblivious to the look the doctor was currently giving him as he continued to hold the phone out for him. After a few moments of John just glaring at Sherlock, he eventually stomped across the room and snatched the phone from Sherlock's outstretched hand. Sherlock instantly brought his hands back together and placed them under his chin again in the prayer position.

John turned, about to go towards Sherlock's desk and his number, but brought his attention back over to the window. He looked a bit distracted. He gazed at it for a few seconds before deciding to walk over to it. John leaned close to the glass and peered out of it into the street below. Sherlock's eyes opened and glanced towards where John was now standing.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked.

Without looking away from the window, he said, "Just met a friend of yours."

"A friend?" Sherlock asked confused. He glanced at me and I gave a shrug.

"An enemy."

Sherlock relaxed a bit. "Oh. Which one?"

John finally turned his head to stare at Sherlock. "Your archenemy, according to him. Do people have archenemies?"

I groaned. "Not him again!"

Sherlock looked back at John again. His eyes narrowed somewhat suspiciously. "Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

John looked confused. "No."

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time," he told John. "You and Blu really."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Excuse me for punching the man in the face. He was offering me money to spy on my only friend."

John blinked. "You punched him in the face for asking you to spy on Sherlock?"

I shook my head. "I punched him in the face for wanting me to spy on Sherlock and for bringing my family into the conversation as well as the word blackmail. Obviously he learned his lesson this time when it came to you." John gave a small smile, probably imagining me trying to punch the man. I gave him a wink. "I might not look it, John, but I've got quite a punch when angry enough."

"Who is he?" John asked us.

I went to answer, but Sherlock cut me off by softly saying, "The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now." I shook my head at him. His voice grew more loudly. "On my desk, the number."

John gave Sherlock another irritated glance before walking over towards the man's desk. He picked up the piece of paper that sat there and read it aloud, "Jennifer Wilson?" He blinked and eyed the paper more closely. "That was... Hang on." He stared over at us. "Wasn't that the dead woman?"

Sherlock kept his eyes closed. "Yes. That's not important. Just enter the number." John and I in unison shook our heads at him. The doctor went back to putting in the number. "Are you doing it?"

John gave Sherlock a quick look before returning his attention to his phone screen. "Yes."

"Have you done it?" Sherlock asked impatiently. I glared at the detective.

"Ye... hang on!" John exclaimed, glaring over at Sherlock.

After another few seconds, Sherlock told him, "These words exactly: 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out.'" John gave Sherlock a small brief glance as he started to text what the detective was saying to him. He appeared a bit concerned. "'Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.'"

John started to text more of what was said to him, but he looked over at Sherlock again with a confused frown at his words. "You blacked out?"

Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts. "What? No. No!" Sherlock flipped his legs off of the couch and rose to his feet. I frowned as he just casually walked onto the table, dirtying the papers that were there, and moving onto the other side. At least he didn't step on my laptop...again. He went over towards the kitchen. "Type and send it. Quickly."

Now that he was off of me, I stood to my feet as well and cracked my muscles. Sherlock really was heavy when he wished to be. I wonder how much he weighed? Never really thought to ask before. I just always seemed to accept him getting on top of me like it was nothing. Sometimes I did it to him too, but only when he wasn't in the middle of a case. Usually I'd only just rest my head on his shoulder or against his backside, like I had done earlier on today.

Sherlock grabbed the pink suitcase from the kitchen and brought it back over to us. "Have you sent it?"

"What's the address?" John asked as Sherlock pulled over a chair.

I found a spot on the floor between the two chairs that surrounded the fireplace. I brought my legs together and sat Indian Style as I watched Sherlock and John. It was so interesting to watch the two interact. They talked and bickered like an old married couple.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street," Sherlock told him impatiently. He placed the chair down in front of the black chair by the fireplace. He took a seat in the black chair and placed the suitcase on the other chair before him. "Hurry up!"

As John finished the message, he glanced over just as Sherlock unzipped the bag and opened it. I scooted closer and glanced inside. I stuck out my tongue at the sight of even more pink clothes in the bag. My nose scrunched up. Did this woman have a pink obsession or something? There were a few things that weren't pink, but they of course weren't clothes. Every single article of clothing this woman had in her bag was pink.

John blinked and fully turned to stare at us and the bag. Sherlock intertwined his fingers together and stared intently at the contents of the suitcase. "That's...that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case," John pointed out.

"Yes, obviously," Sherlock told him. I gave a grin as John continued to stare at the bag and gave Sherlock a few brief glances every couple moments. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, perhaps I should mention: I didn't kill her," Sherlock said as he looked up at John. "I nor Bluebell for that matter."

"I never said either of you did."

"Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact I that have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption."

John blinked a few times. "Do people usually assume you're the murderer?"

I laughed loudly as Sherlock smirked up at him. "Now and then, yes."

"Him more so than me," I told John as Sherlock placed his hands on the armrests of the seat and lifted his body up. He brought his feet under his body and crouched on the chair. His hands clasped together again and he pressed them up against his mouth as he went back to staring at the suitcase. "Some don't think I'm really capable of doing it and would only be an accomplice if at all."

"Okay...," John said. He moved over to the chair across from Sherlock and dropped heavily into it. "How did you get this?"

I glanced up at Sherlock. "Yeah. Where did you get this? You weren't here when I got back home earlier and I never really did get the chance to ask."

"By looking."

"Where?" we asked him.

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case," he pointed down at the case with his two index fingers, "without drawing attention to themselves – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip."

"Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?" John asked whilst looking at him.

"Well, it had to be pink, obviously," Sherlock answered.

"Why didn't I think of that?" John said to himself sarcastically.

"Because you're an idiot." John brought his attention up to stare at Sherlock in surprise. Sherlock made a placatory gesture with one hand at him. "No, no, no, don't look like that. Practically everyone is." I gave Sherlock an irritated look. Sherlock ignored me and brought his hands together again. He pointed once more at the case with both index fingers. "Now, look. Do you see what's missing?"

"From the case? How could we?" John asked.

"Her phone," I instantly said, earning a startled look from John. I glanced at him and blinked. "What? Is it not obvious? You just texted her phone, did you not?"

Sherlock seemed to smirk a bit. "Maybe you're not all idiots." I grinned back and sat up straighter from the compliment. It's not every day he gives one. It feels like such an accomplishment when he does. "As Blu pointed out, John, her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case. We know she had one – that's her number there; you just texted it." He indicated John's phone which sat on one of his armrests.

John gave us both a look. "Maybe she left it at home."

Sherlock put his hands on the armrests again to lift him up once more. This time he brought his feet down so they touched the floor and he was sitting in the chair properly. "She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home."

"Er..." John looked at down at his phone. "Why did I just send that text?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

Sherlock brought his hands together again under his chin. "Well, the question is: where is her phone now?"

"She could have lost it," John said.

"Yes, or...?"

John glanced away as a thought hit him. Slowly he said, "The murderer... You think the murderer has the phone?"

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone."

"Sorry," John began, getting confused again. He started to shake his head, "what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer? What good will that do?"

At that exact moment, his phone rang. All of our eyes moved onto the phone. John grabbed the device and scanned the screen, but he didn't pick up on the person calling him. The doctor looked over at Sherlock as it continued to ring.

"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her," Sherlock told him. "If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer..." Sherlock paused dramatically as the phone stopped ringing, "would panic." I jumped as the detective suddenly flipped the lid of the suitcase closed. I then quickly scrambled after him when he rose up to his feet. He grabbed his jacket and started to pull it on to him.

"Have you talked to the police?" John asked, looking up at us.

"Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police," Sherlock told him, buttoning up the jacket.

I rolled my eyes. "Sherlock, we can't just do that. We'll probably just regret it later. Besides, Lestrade will have our heads for it."

Sherlock waved me off. I frowned at him and crossed my arms. I gave an irritated huff. I hated when he just waved my words off like that like they weren't important.

"So why are you talking to me?" John demanded.

"Mrs Hudson took my skull," he told the doctor.

"Did she?" I spun around and stared over at the fireplace. I grinned at the sight of the missing thing and laughed a bit. "I love that woman so much!"

Sherlock this time narrowed his eyes at me and gave a hard frown. "What's wrong with my skull?"

I shrugged casually and stared down at my nails, pretending to study them in order to avoid the question. He loved that skull too much for his own good. I think he and it needed some good time apart from the other.

"So I'm basically filling in for your skull?" John asked, eyeing where the skull usually sat as well.

"More or less," I told him

As Sherlock put on his black coat he added, "Relax, you're doing fine." When John stayed put and didn't move he asked, "Well?"

"Well what?" John asked back confused and annoyed.

"Well, you could just sit there and watch telly." I gave a grin when he said the word telly. He made it seem like it was something bad and stupid.

"What, you want me to come with you?" John looked back at us.

"I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud," Sherlock said as he put on his scarf. "The skull just attracts attention, so..."

John looked away with a small smile as I smacked the detective on the arm. "Hey! I always go out with you!"

"Yes, and you tend to ignore me a lot by putting in your headphones," he countered.

I opened my mouth to reply to that, but closed it after a moment. Yeah...he was right. I did like to drown him out with music when he talked way too much. I could only take in so much of his chatter before my brain felt like exploding.

After a moment I just rolled my eyes and said, "You just want John along so you can sound smart compared to him."

He frowned. "Do not."

"Do to!"

"Is this how you two always behave?" John asked us, pointing at the two of us. He moved his finger from Sherlock to me.

I nodded. "A good majority of the time."

He sighed. "You act like brother and sister."

I shrugged. "Well, I do think of him as my brother at times. Never had one so it's oddly fitting, I guess."

"I thought you said you were friends?"

"You can be friends with a sibling," I pointed out.

John started to smile again and shake his head a bit. Sherlock looked at him curiously. "Problem?"

"Yeah, Sergeant Donovan."

I groaned. "Don't mention that woman!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but only I noticed. "What about her?"

"She said, you get off on this. You enjoy it," he told him. He then nodded in my direction. "And remember, Blu, how she said you always follow him around and do what he says because you apparently love him."

Luckily Sherlock couldn't see me, since I was behind him, when I stiffened up. As I swallowed, John gave me a strange look. One of his eyebrows went up a little.

"Course I love him," I forced out. "I love him like a brother."

Sherlock still didn't seem to notice anything wrong with me as he told John, "And I said dangerous...and here you are."

I shook my head a bit as Sherlock turned and walked out of the room. I hurried after him and behind us we both heard John exclaim, "Damn it!" His footsteps then quickly followed after us as I laughed at the poor man.

Okay. Earlier update than usual because I was forced to get up for something stupid that never even happened. Quite unhappy so I'll probably go to back to bed after I finish this up. Didn't really skim through and edit like usual, so sorry if there are any mistakes. I'll read through this chapter later when I'm actually awake and can understand what I was trying to say.

Well, Blu's sisters…and that's only three of them. Which, speaking of them, at first I wasn't even going to make Mari be cruel…but I changed my mind since obviously Blu and her family have gone through something traumatic in their past and I wanted to show how much it really affected some of them (we've already seen Bluebell's reactions a couple times). It is kind of sad, though, since Mari is the eldest in the family and Blu (which I'm mentioning now) is technically the youngest. I think when I wrote down the sisters' ages there is roughly a twelve year difference between those two.

Also, notice all of their names yet? Bluebell, Marigold, Violet, Mrytle, and then Aunt Lily (plus there are more sisters and aunts). And then there's the fact that we know, at least, Blu's a nature expert. There are reasons, I promise. Everything has a reason in this story. I've really got this thing planned out.

Other than that, we're kind of getting more hints with what happened…sort of. It's only the fourth chapter, though. I've got to be mysterious, haha. Plus being mysterious is fun.

Anywho, anyone like my two small parts I put in about Blu?

The first with Sherlock somehow always just casually sitting on her/lying on her when he wants to or just to think. It was too good to pass up. They've been together for five years which means they're at least comfortable around another. I figured that he would just do this without really thinking about it instead of asking for her to move. I don't know. My thoughts, I guess. Something I can see him doing.

The other is my absolute favorite part that I just added in casually but thought hysterical. The part of Bluebell once punching Sherlock's archenemy in the face. This is the part that being the reader is great. You already know that the archenemy is Mycroft Holmes where John just thinks it's some random man. Makes it funnier, right?

So, once I get more sleep, I'll probably post links on my profile under the one on Bluebell to give you an idea of who I am basing these sisters off of and Richard.

Also, I forgot to mention this last chapter, the small bit on the poem that Blu quotes from is called 'The Pink Coat' by Alyssa Ray. If you want to read the entire thing, just type it in Google. Took me forever just to find something to work with that scene.

Anywho, comments are greatly appreciated. Let me know your thoughts, please and thank-a you. Off to bed!