Amelia took a moment to calm her heartbeat before exiting the car. She knew that Mycroft would see her anxiety immediately and assume it was connected with his plans. After everything, he is no longer the threat I thought he was. Looking at Holmes Manor, Amelia was amused by Mycroft's attempts to connect her back to the family. She saw the curtain in the living room move to the side. "Jesus, Mycroft, have another slice of cake and chill out."
No longer able to postpone the inevitable, Amelia got out of the car, squared her shoulders, and walked into her childhood home. Not much has changed: some new furniture in the formal living room, the depressing paintings on the walls have been replaced with lighter watercolors, and most noticeable, the heavy drapes were drawn, causing light to pour into the old house. However, instead of making the rooms look brighter, the sunshine drew Amelia's attention to all of the cobwebs and dust that had accumulated. The sound of high heels on the hardwood caught Amelia's attention; Anthea walked up to her and smiled. "I hate to hurry you through the walk down memory lane, but everyone is waiting for you in the kitchen."
The two women walked briskly down the hall, towards the back of the house. Like meeting at the manor, Amelia knew that setting up in the kitchen, her once-loved sanctuary, was a deliberate move. Amelia opened the door to the kitchen and was surprised at the large group sitting at the breakfast bar. Mycroft sat at the far end with Anthea on his right side. Naturally. The detective with salt and pepper hair sat to Anthea's left. What was his name again? Lestrade? I should make sure he calls Molly, she seemed really interested in him. Sherlock sat directly across from Lestrade and next to John. Oh hell, what is he doing here? John looked uncomfortable, choosing to stare at his hands. Amelia figured he was only here to make sure that Sherlock behaved himself and quickly decided to pretend that he didn't exist. Imagine that he is a black hole. A hobbit-sized black hole, wearing flannel. A flannel-clad, hobbit-sized black hole. That is an amazing kisser. Get your shit together, Amelia.
Amelia sat opposite of Mycroft, between Sherlock and Lestrade. Pretending to fix her hair, she exclaimed "Had I known to expect a party, I would have dressed up a little."
A small corner of Mycroft's mouth twitched-an equivalent of a belly laugh for a normal person. "Perhaps I should have let you do your own packing, was there a ball gown in your closet?"
"Actually, there are three. A girl can never be too prepared." Amelia shifted in her chair. All of these people staring at her was beginning to make her feel itchy. "Are you folks just going to sit there and stare at the witty banter between myself and Mycroft? Who is hungry?"
Lestrade, John, and Anthea looked perplexed. Sherlock scowled and said "don't worry about cooking, I can take you out after this."
"Now Sherlock, if our sister wants to make us something, who are you to turn it down?"
Sherlock's scowl deepened. "I just don't want to encourage this ridiculous gathering to take longer than it needs to. We don't need her help and we don't need food."
Amelia walked by John to get to the refrigerator. John stood up "Allow me to help." Before Amelia could snap at him to sit down, he leaned in close to her ear. "Please make something, I'm starved and Sherlock hasn't eaten since he brought you back" he muttered.
John finally looked her in the eye and Amelia was struck by all the emotions that were showing on his face. I can't think about this right now. He is a black hole. Amelia nodded and turned to see what she could make. "We have bacon and bread for toast. Anyone opposed to scrambled eggs? It's easier for bulk cooking." When no one spoke up, Amelia continued "Alright then, and just to be clear, everyone is eating." Amelia threw a hard look at Sherlock, who glared back. "Mycroft, please get started. One of my many genetic gifts is being able to cook and talk at the same time."
Clearing his throat, Mycroft addressed the group. "I'm sure we are all painfully aware of the long search for James Moriarty. My informant has told me that Moriarty has changed his tactics. Instead of pursuing Sherlock, he is now obsessed with finding Amelia. Now, we were quick enough to bring Amelia back before his men found her but now…."
"No."
Everyone turned to look at Sherlock. Mycroft sighed "Sherlock, we have already been through this. Moriarty will be able to spot any of my men and evade us like he has been doing for years."
"I can do this on my own again. I already weakened his connections and I assumed by doing this, you could finish the job. Your men are incompetent, Mycroft, but I am not letting Amelia get involved."
Amelia slammed down the mixing bowl that was in her hands. "I'm already involved, Sherlock. Moriarty found me. He never stopped looking for me. All the people that I have met and cared about were killed. By him." She took a deep breath. "This all started with me. It should be me ending it."
With that, she began to crack eggs in the bowl and quickly followed with some milk, salt, and pepper. "I don't understand why you guys thought that you were adequate protection for me. All you did was piss him off. The botched bomb hit on you, Sherlock, resulted in my boss being blown up in his own car. The cab driver? My house burned down. When he found out that you survived the fall, he killed my boyfriend. So all of you just shut the hell up." Amelia poured the egg mixture into the pan and turned the bacon. She then pointed at Lestrade. "Make yourself useful and toast that bread. And someone set the plates ready."
Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but Amelia cut him off. "I don't even want to hear what you have to say, asshole. The only reason why I showed up was just to tell you that I would help, but I am not playing whatever charade you have concocted. I am doing this on my own. I. Got. This."
Everyone watched as Amelia sat down, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "Are we done discussing this?"
Mycroft cleared his throat. "That is all we needed to talk about as a group. You and I shall speak later."
"Nope. Not happening." Amelia opened her eyes and smiled. "Everyone, please get started before the food gets cold. Thank you, Lestrade, for making the toast."
Suffice to say, everyone promptly ate in silence. As soon as their last bites were taken, Lestrade and John found reasons to leave almost immediately. Anthea walked out of the kitchen without a word, just typing away at her Blackberry. Amelia watched her departure before turning to Mycroft. "You should really get her some flowers or a day off."
"Is this where you tell me that I have a very devoted PA and that I should reward my staff for doing an adequate job?"
"Nope, her mother is in the hospital. They just found a lump near her armpit and they are waiting on a biopsy to determine if it is lymphoma."
Mycroft swallowed hard. "I retract my previous statement. Now, may we please discuss how to approach the situation?"
Amelia almost threw her hands up in exasperation. "I already told you, Mycroft, I have this. Do not get involved more than you are."
"I cannot let you do this on your own, Amelia, if you let me, you can have any resource that you could ever need."
"That's enough, Mycroft" Sherlock started. "Amelia is not going to help if she has to do it on your terms. We've already bungled this up more than we realized." I'm so sorry, Amelia, I did not know that he was taking his losses out on you.
Standing, Sherlock gently took Amelia's arm. "Come on, I think we're done here. Let me drive you back to Baker Street."
Amelia acquiesced and they walked to Sherlock's car. "Wait, when did you get a car?"
Sherlock grinned. "Who said it was my car? Now hurry up before Mycroft catches on what we are doing."
Holding back a laugh, Amelia jumped into the car. It's like the Christmas when I was 14. Father and Mother insisted on holding that dull party and required Sherlock and I attend. We tried, we honestly did, but after an hour, we were ready to start shooting the wall….or the guests. I retreated to the library and was looking for my copy of The Social Animal that father keeps telling me is 'far too advanced' when Sherlock burst in. "They will find you in a second if you stay here. I have a much better idea." His eyes were practically glowing with mischief. We snuck out of the window and Sherlock produced a set of car keys. "I found the nicest car of the bunch, let's go to London."
Sherlock must have been remembering the same party because he ran his hand along the dashboard and said "I can't believe that I thought a Jaguar was the swankiest car ever, D'you think Mycroft will miss his Maserati?"
"At this point, I hope he loves this car so much that he polishes it with a diaper every evening and reads it bedtime stories." Amelia looked in the glove compartment. "Damn it."
Sherlock eased the car onto the main road. "Did Mycroft put a tracker on his car?"
"Nope" Amelia held up the wrapped gift with her name on it. "We were busted before we even got in."
Opening the card, Amelia read "Welcome back, sister. Please enjoy the gift and I will pick the car up at 221B Baker Street this evening. Please tell Sherlock to take it easy on the clutch, it is quite sensitive. He has gotten more spry in his advanced years."
Making sure he stomped on the clutch, Sherlock smirked. "I think he is trying to ensure that you won't run off again."
A tense silence fell over the car. Amelia tried to turn the radio on, but Mycroft had a personalized system installed and she could not figure out how to switch it over from the Bluetooth setting. Sitting back, Amelia looked at Sherlock. He appeared to be driving comfortably, but the whiteness of his knuckles and deepened crow's feet around his eyes suggested otherwise. "Well, since I can't figure out our distraction, should we talk about this?"
Sherlock remained silent for the better part of a mile. "I suppose we should." Turning quickly, he asked "Why did you leave?"
Amelia chose her next words carefully. "It was getting worse. There were the daily phone calls and strange men were watching me at school. He would not let up and, just like he is doing now, whenever you tried to get involved, it got worse. You got worse, Lock."
"How could I not get involved? You were the only family I cared about and you were in danger! If you hadn't run off, we could have solved this."
"Sherlock, I saw the track marks."
Sherlock slammed on the brakes and skidded over to the side of the road. Throwing on the brake, he turned in his seat. "How could you possibly know about that?"
"I'm not an idiot. You stopped eating for longer periods. You were constantly fidgeting and scratching and you wore long sleeves in hot weather. Even if I missed all of that, I might have caught on when I came over to visit you and you were passed out with a needle still in your arm. I thought you were dead, that he killed you. I called an ambulance and packed my bags."
Sherlock gaped at Amelia. "That was you? It was an overdose. I tried to stop for about a month, but then you said that one of the thugs tried to take you and it was too much for me to take. But leaving like that" Sherlock trailed off and bowed his head in shame.
"He knew, Sherlock. He called me that night and said that he wouldn't just watch you overdose anymore. If you would have relapsed one more time, he was going to kill you. That was his plan the whole time, torture me to weaken you. Weaken and kill you to isolate me before taking me." Amelia closed her eyes and shuddered at the thought of being under his thumb so young.
Sherlock sat in his seat, thinking. Suddenly, he unbuckled his seatbelt, moved closer to Amelia, and held out his arms. "Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?"
"It's called a hug. I hear siblings do this to comfort each other."
"Sherlock?"
"Yes?"
"Knock it the fuck off."
"No. Time for a hug."
"You really are going to sit there until I join in on an embrace?"
"Yes."
"Fine." Amelia wrapped her arms around Sherlock, who did the same and tried to pat her back. "John did this to me once, it actually did help."
"Um, yeah, ok, I feel better. Can we stop now? I feel like you are trying to burp me."
"On one condition."
"Always a catch with you, what?"
"Please don't ever leave me like that again. I promise to stay clean, no matter what. I just can't bear the thought of you going."
Amelia pulled away and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Okay."
Sherlock and Amelia pulled onto Baker Street and entered the flat. Amelia felt fatigued and went upstairs to finally sleep. Though Sherlock would never admit it out loud, he felt lighter and more happy knowing that he finally had his little sister back.
John returned home after a last minute shift at the clinic. Although he would like nothing better than to crawl into bed with a book, he decided to shower and go see Mary. Maybe I should talk to Amelia first. John shook his head; Amelia would be able to tell what his true intentions were. Her words kept ringing in his mind. There are parts of me that will scare and disgust you. What could she have possibly done that would make her think that? But then again, she said that Moriarty killed her boyfriend. She could just be protecting me from him, like she is doing with Sherlock and Mycroft. Yes, I should definitely talk to her. John was about to pull out his mobile when he heard Sherlock yell incoherently upstairs. Remembering that Amelia would have been staying up there, John's heart sank as he ran up to his room.
He found Sherlock sitting in the corner of the room, rocking back and forth, his knees tucked against his chest. "Sherlock, what's wrong? Is it Amelia? Where is she?"
Sherlock lifted his hand up; he had been clutching a sealed letter. "I can't read it, please don't make me read it."
John opened the envelope and took out the piece of paper. Sitting next to Sherlock, he began to read.
I have to do this on my own.
I don't know what Moriarty would do if he found out that you were helping.
I meant it when I promised you that I would never leave you. I will return.
And I will return, alive.
Amelia.
Special note to Jess-I hear that you like a cliffhanger end to the chapters. Muahahaha.
