Exactly three minutes after Mycroft left, Charlene heard footsteps outside the door. She looked up just as John burst into the room, then stopped dead.
He came in to see Charlene standing by a microscope on the table in the middle, slightly bent over. She was turned around to look at him, eyebrows raised. He stopped dead as he realised this was the exact same situation in which he had met her brother, years ago. From this angle, the resemblance was striking, despite her hair colour and clothing. It was eerie, to say the least.
Charlene quirked an eyebrow. "You okay?"
"Um, yeah, just…never mind. Um, so how'd it go?"
She smiled. "Well, apparently I am a Holmes."
He nodded. "Good to know."
"Yeah." A pause. "Did you come here for a specific reason?"
"Mycroft's car came and picked me up. I think I'm supposed to collect you. That is, if you don't mind."
"Of course not." Charlene pushed the microscope away and stepped back from the table. "So where are we going?"
"I'm pretty sure we're supposed to go back to Baker Street, if that's okay with you."
A small smile tugged at the side of her mouth. "Sure. Let's go."
John held the door open for Charlene, then cast one last wistful gaze upon the scene in the lab before closing the door firmly behind him.
o0o0o
Halfway across London, John spoke. "So what did you and Mycroft talk about?"
"Oh, you know. This and that. We had about thirty years' worth of gossip to catch up on, you know."
He smiled slightly, then abruptly grew serious. "Look, Charlene, I'm guessing you don't have anywhere in London to stay, right?"
"I've got the hotel I've been staying at," she said, playing along.
"Yes, but…you know. Somewhere fixed. I presume you will be staying?"
"For as long as I can, yes."
"Well, while you're here, I was wondering if…if you'd like to stay at my flat. 221B. With me. That is, if you don't mind."
Charlene was trying very hard not to smile as she watched John get flustered. "Sure, I'd like to. If you're sure, that is."
"Of course. I mean, yes."
She allowed herself a small smile. "That's settled then."
"Yes." He relaxed visibly, and she looked out the window, grinning to herself.
o0o0o
When they got back to Baker Street, John and Charlene first popped in to see Mrs Hudson to inform her of the tenant change, then headed upstairs. When they got to the landing outside the flat, John stopped, and Charlene bumped into him from behind. "What's up?"
"Did you bring a suitcase?"
"No, you know I didn't. What's up?"
"It appears someone did." John pointed, and Charlene peered over his shoulder at a small, brown suitcase lying on the ground.
"Oh! That's mine. I wonder how it got here?"
He turned around. "Are you certain it's yours?"
Charlene nodded. "Absolutely." She pointed at it. "You see that stain there? That's from when I had it next to me in a restaurant a few years ago, and some pillock spilled red wine on it. The cut in the corner there? Got a little too close to a lawnmower. And there should be a tartan ribbon on the far handle, from some woman who gave it to me randomly in the street. I think she was a bit mad, but I didn't have the heart to throw it away, so I put it there."
"And you couldn't just have used a name-tag like most people?"
"It fell off. Like I said, I got a little too close to a lawnmower."
John blinked. "Okay then. So how d'you think it got here?"
"Most likely Mycroft or one of his assistants dropped it over while we were out, which was nice of them, I suppose."
"Of course. What else. Anyway, I'm going to sit down. You can take that up to Sherlock's room if you want." He paused. "Your room. I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "It's okay, I understand." She smiled at him and lifted the bag, taking it slowly up to her new bedroom. John smiled and walked into the living room. He leaned his stick against the sofa, and was about to sit down in his chair when he heard a cry from above. "John?!"
John immediately dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Charlene? What's wrong?"
He found her standing at her bedroom door, staring at the bed. "Did you put them there?"
He looked, and saw a pile of clothes lying on the duvet, nicely folded. "No, I didn't. I've never seen them before."
They stepped closer, and Charlene picked up the top item. It was a black shirt, exactly her size.
"Do you think Mycroft's men did this as well?"
"I don't know. Probably." She noticed a small, black wallet lying beside the clothes, and picked it up curiously. She looked inside, and found three credit cards, along with debit cards for a couple of banks.
"What is it?" John asked.
Charlene pulled out a card. It had her name on it, and when she turned it over, she found her signature copied exactly. There was a note inside the wallet. 'My dear Charlene. I apologise for getting off on the wrong foot, as it were. I hope you will accept this as a token, and as a welcome back into the Holmes family.
"It appears my brother has been very generous," she said thickly. "No one's ever done something like this for me before. Ever. And I only met him this morning…"
John sneaked a peek at the note. "How on Earth did he do this so quickly?" he asked incredulously.
She shook her head, wiping her eyes fiercely. "Goodness only knows. But I am so grateful. It appears I can now properly pay for the rent on this flat, as well."
"Good on Mycroft then. And I never thought I'd be saying that, I can tell you."
She smiled briefly. "You can go back, if you want. I'll be down in a minute."
"Okay." He patted her arm on the way out, and she looked back at him before collapsing forwards onto the bed. This day had been even more full-on than the last, and it wasn't even over yet. At least now she had a place to stay, with a nice person. John was kind, she reflected, and not too bad-looking either.
She frowned. No, she didn't need to think about that now.
She rolled over and looked more closely at the pile of clothes from Mycroft. It was mostly plain shirts and trousers, in plain, innocuous colours. Just her style. At the bottom, however, there was a long, grey overcoat.
She stood up and tried it on. It fitted her perfectly, of course, and looked somehow familiar. She shrugged and put it back on the bed, finding a squashed hat right at the bottom.
She held it up and grinned. It was a deerstalker.
Charlene put it on and glanced in the mirror, grinning madly, then went out the room and closed the door. Time to show John her gift.