Half an hour later, Mrs Hudson stood at the front door, holding it open. "Hurry up, dears!" she called up the stairs. "We don't want to be late!"
John emerged first, wearing a black shirt and tie. He joined his landlady at the front door. "You may as well get into the cab, I think she'll be a couple more minutes."
Mrs Hudson thanked him and hurried out to the cab waiting in the street. John stood at the door and called up to Charlene again.
She appeared at the top of the stairs a moment later, and stopped a moment to fix her shoe before hurrying downstairs. "Sorry I took so long," she said when she reached John at the door, "these blasted shoes hindered me somewhat."
"Wow," he said, looking her up and down. She was wearing a tight-fitting purple shirt and a black skirt, with black heels and a handbag. She wore natural make-up, and if anyone had asked John at that moment, he'd have had to say she looked beautiful.
Charlene smirked. "Eyes front, soldier," she remarked, before heading out to the waiting cab, apologising to Mrs Hudson for keeping her waiting.
John shook his head slightly and locked the door, before hurrying to the cab and getting in. "That's all of us, you can go now. Thanks for waiting."
"No problem," the cabbie replied, and pulled out from the curve.
John turned to Charlene. "I, uh, I like your outfit," he remarked, trying to be casual.
She blushed slightly. "Um, thanks."
Mrs Hudson shook her head at them and looked out the window instead.
The trip to the restaurant took fifteen minutes, with John making small talk with his new flatmate, and Mrs Hudson tactfully pretending not to be there. Eventually they arrived, and Charlene helped Mrs Hudson out of the cab while John paid the driver.
They stepped into the small, cosy restaurant and were immediately greeted by a grey-haired man with a large smile. "Ah, Dr Watson, you have brought a friend!"
"Hello, Angelo. Actually, Charlene's my new flatmate. And do you know Mrs Hudson?" The appropriate introductions were made, and Angelo directed the trio to a table by the window. John sat with his back to the window, while Charlene got a seat that overlooked the street while not being immediately noticeable from outside. Mrs Hudson sat closest to the door.
After five minutes or so, another cab drew up outside and a young woman stepped out. She had long brown hair which was done up at the back, and wore a pretty black dress and a tad too much lipstick. She came inside the restaurant, and John stood up as she came over to them.
"Hello, everyone."
"Molly. Good to see you. How've you been?" John asked, sitting down and indicating the seat opposite him. Molly sat down carefully, trying not to crease her dress.
"I'm good. How are you doing?"
"Yeah, good, I think."
"That's good." Suddenly Molly noticed Charlene quietly sitting there, watching the exchange.
Charlene extended her hand. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I've had the pleasure."
The other woman shook it uncertainly. "I'm Molly Hooper. A…friend…of Sherlock's. Did you know him?"
"Sort of. You see, I'm Charlene Holmes. I was his sister."
Molly gasped slightly. "Sister? He never mentioned a sister."
"I'm actually his twin. It's a long story."
Molly bit her lip, frowning. "Go on."
"Before you do that, I think we should order our food, or we'll be waiting here all night," John interjected. There was a general sense of agreement, and everybody ordered, before settling back to watch Charlene.
She told them the story of how she had fallen off a roof after an accident while playing Pirates, and about her life in America since then. Molly and Mrs Hudson, who had never heard this before, listened with interest. When Charlene ended with how she arrived at Baker Street and promptly fainted into John's arms, they all laughed. At that moment, the starters for their meals arrived, and they were distracted for a few minutes with that.
Molly swallowed a bite of salad and asked, "But one thing you didn't explain was how you survived falling off that roof in Cardiff. Why didn't you die, if you don't mind me asking?"
Charlene sighed. "I didn't tell you because I don't know myself. I honestly don't remember. My memory skips straight from knowing I was about to die, to being on a ship on the way to America. I wish I did know, though. I've been asking myself the same question ever since I remembered, three months ago."
"Exactly the time that Sherlock fell," Mrs Hudson added, giving a little shiver. "How did that happen, I wonder?"
"As do I," Charlene replied with a sigh.
John changed the subject, and they got onto talking about Sherlock. By the time the starters were cleared away and the main courses arrived, they were going around the table, sharing a memory of Sherlock.
Molly mentioned the time Sherlock met her new boyfriend, Jim, and instantly knew that he was gay (or pretending to be, anyway). He had turned out to be Moriarty, of course, but nobody mentioned that.
Mrs Hudson remembered the time that a young man turned up on her doorstep for the first time since they had last met in America, asking to look at a flat for him and a stranger the next day. "It seems that Holmeses are always hasty in their flat-sharing decisions," she joked, and Charlene giggled.
Next it was John's turn. He told a story of a dark time, when Sherlock had been through a traumatising experience. He didn't say what it had been, but everybody could guess. He told of Sherlock's unfortunate way of coping, and his slow recovery with John's help. The story, while true and appreciated, cast a shadow on the table.
Charlene lightened the mood considerably with her tale. She described in great detail a time when Mycroft had been doing a particularly tricky Latin assignment, while she and Sherlock were playing at being pirates. They had snuck into his room via the ivy outside his window (the door had a silent alarm that Mycroft himself had rigged up), and tied him up as their captive. They only let him go after their mother told them to, and even then after Mycroft had promised to give them the key to the pantry.
John looked at Charlene as she spoke. She was sure of herself and her story, and spoke confidently, smiling at the memory of her brother. She finished her story and took a bite of pasta, before noticing John staring at her. "What?" she asked.
"Nothing," John said quickly, looking away. "So, Molly, how are things at the morgue?"
"Well, we're busy, which is good. I mean, it's not good in that people are dying, but it's good in that we get work to do. Which isn't really that good at all, I suppose."
Everybody smiled. "So which morgue do you work at? The one in St Bart's?"
"Yes. Wait. I didn't...how did you…you know, you're a lot like Sherlock."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. And I've only been here for a couple of days."
"How long have you been in England, dear?" That was Mrs Hudson.
"Four days, I believe. I was staying at a hotel, but now I've moved into Baker Street."
"So you're John's new flatmate? He did mention having found someone," Molly asked.
"Yup, that's me."
At that moment, Angelo came over with the dessert menus. "Excuse me, but I couldn't help listening in on your conversation. Did you say you were Sherlock's sister?"
"I am indeed."
"Funny, he never mentioned you."
"That'd be because I was dead."
Angelo stared at her, startled, before dropping the menus on the table and hurrying away. John and Charlene burst out laughing, and Molly giggled. Even Mrs Hudson smiled.
They ordered dessert, and made light conversation for the rest of the meal. Mrs Hudson sat quietly and watched John and Charlene talking together, laughing together. She noticed the way Charlene put her hand on John's shoulder when she laughed, and the way John seemed to lean towards Charlene. The wise old landlady noticed all this, and quietly smiled to herself. It's about time, she thought.
Eventually, the last crumb was eaten, the last drop of coffee drunk. The four of them split the bill, then looked outside at a sudden downpour of rain. "I'll phone for a taxi," John said then disappeared towards the back of the shop.
The three women were left standing alone. Molly turned to Mrs Hudson. "Is he all right?"
She sighed. "I think so. He's certainly better than he was a few days ago."
"Seriously? But how? What's changed…oh, I see," she said, looking sideways at Charlene.
"What?" she asked innocently.
Mrs Hudson turned to her and gently said, "Dear, you must understand that before you came, John was…he was not good. Sherlock's death affected him in a big way. He lost his best friend, remember. And now you've come…I think he's realised a lot of things. Like there are other things to be worrying about. And you've cheered him up, no end, especially going to live with him like this. So thank you, dear."
Charlene covered her mouth. "I had no idea."
"And he never would have said anything," Molly added. "I think you can help him, though. Heal him."
She nodded resolutely. "I'll do my best."
Mrs Hudson patted her arm. "I'm sure you will, dear."
John came back at that moment, and they all stopped talking very suddenly. "Cab's on its way," he said. "It'll be here soon."
A/N: If you were wondering what John's memory of Sherlock was all about, that will be coming in a future story, which I am currently writing. I will let you know when it is up. Thanks for reading!