ᴛʜᴜʀsᴅᴀʏ 11:06 ᴘᴍ
"I have a headache,"
Sherlock shot a disapproving look in Margaret's direction. She clutched a glass of water as she was sprawled out on his couch, drifting in and out of sleep. John had left for bed an hour ago and the thought to turn in for the night had piqued his interest, but his mind was too active thus he wasn't tired. In the meantime Sherlock busied himself with going over the killer's profile given to him by Giles. He had already examined it nine times; he didn't think the profile was very reliable as no new evidence had been found — albeit the killer was careful, not leaving any DNA or slip ups at the crime scenes that could tie back to him.
"Sherlock would you mind getting me more water?" Margaret's tired voice pierced through his concentration. He set his jaw, annoyance prickling underneath his skin.
Mildly, he answered, "The faucet is a short walk away." She groaned, but didn't protest and dragged herself to her feet. While she filled up her glass, he turned back to his work.
It was quiet, until Margaret spoke, "So what have you been up to?"
"Can't you see I'm trying to work?"
She attempted a smile. Margaret was used to Sherlock's standoffish behavior but she would enjoy a simple conversation right now. Sadly a 'simple conversation' with Sherlock was impossible. She wanted to know how he'd been, of course she could always ask John but it wouldn't be the same. So again she tried, "Yes, but it's late. And," She paused, taking on a lighter tone. "I've been gone for a bit, why don't we catch up?"
Sherlock's eyes snapped upwards, as if an idea suddenly came to him. He set down the papers in his hands and rounded on her. "Yes you have been gone for quite a while. Milan, was it? Mother and Father were worried when you didn't call for five years."
At his words Margaret retreated in on herself, her mouth drifting open and close silently, her once warm gaze grew uncomfortable and she began fidgeting with her cup, shifting it in her grasp every few seconds. Sherlock noticed her familiar tells, his sister had a secret.
Her lips pressed into a frown. "I'm terribly sorry about not contacting everyone for such a long time. I was in Milan, then an opportunity came when I was able to go to Naples. I had to find a new flat and — it was a very long process that I didn't enjoy, moving I mean." Her lips twisted upwards into a smile. "I think I just got caught up in everything that was going on."
Sherlock stared at Margaret in silence.
Moments later he inclined his head. "Of course."
Margaret suddenly yawned, stretched, and made her way back to the couch laying down. "I think I'll head to bed."
He nodded, observing his sister and her apparent fatigued self. "Yes, I think I'll do the same."
Sherlock began to head towards his bedroom when Margaret called out, "Goodnight!"
He paused, not turning back to look at her, muttering, "Goodnight."
When Sherlock had entered the confines of his room and secured the door, he pulled out his phone, navigating to the text messaging app. He sent only one text, although urgent.
Call me ASAP - Sherlock