Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock
Molly took her free hand and patted Sherlock's to give him a bit of comfort. "That's a lovely name. I'm sure we'll adore her as much as we do you." Sherlock's mouth twitched upwards at the thought. "You might find her more pleasing than I. She has mastered social skills far beyond myself. She's been known to pass as a human being more than Mycroft and myself." Mary and John chortled at Sherlock being cheeky. They all could tell that he was fighting to keep his emotions at bay, which was still shocking John that he was expressing emotion at all, much less than having such intense ones.
John broke the tension by chiming in, "So, where are we headed to first? Pool, Bart's or your empty grave? It is empty right?" He said to Sherlock, who then looked to his pathologist. "I was not made aware of all the details of my burial." Molly looked a bit embarrassed and flashed a bit of red as she took her hands away from him, "Well, let's just say that Sherlock's headstone is memorializing the remains of that Tuesday's roast pork special." Sherlock gaped at her, quite insulted. "You used ashes from the canteen incinerator in place of my body. It's nice to be considered your friend." Molly giggled, "Oi, it was trickier than you'd think, I was almost caught by that canteen worker who eyes you anytime she suspects you taking more than one pudding."
Sherlock gave a look of absolution, "Well, as long as you suffered some…" He pulled out his mobile started shooting off text messages to his homeless network. "As to your question, John, we will go to the pool. That was the first place we encountered Moriarty as his true self. This taunt will be nothing but nostalgic." John nodded, "Right. Mary, keep out of trouble." He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "Will do, dear. I'll keep it to one national crisis a day. Both of you come back in one piece."
Sherlock strode across the room to put on his Belstaff and scarf, he was already back in his thoughts and did not notice John in front of him saying his name. "Sherlock! The girls asked a question. When are we returning? Your sister is due to arrive now in three hours." Sherlock was already down the stairs with an annoyed John on his heels. Mary and Molly then heard the door to the flat open again, with the head of Sherlock poking though, "I plan on returning before Adelaide arrives. England could be taken in a week with three of you alone in a room together. And Molly?" She perked up at her name. "No jokes." The door shut on the women and they burst into laughter. Molly stifled her laughs, "Is it terrible that the last five minutes have been the best ones I've had in such a long while and it's due to a psychopath trying to terrorize the country?" Mary sighed with a smile, "Molly, if we didn't laugh just because it was due to some lunatic trying to ruin our lives, when will we find the time?" They both smiled at her remark.
Molly took in a deep breath, "So, a Holmes sister, who could have called that?" "Pft, I could have. That haircut comes from someone who doted on him and it surely wasn't Mycroft, but let me prepare myself before we start deducing what a sister in that family must be like. I've been waiting to use the loo since before Mycroft left and this kid is bouncing on my bladder like a trampoline." Mary headed off for the toilet while Molly made arrangements for a lengthy speculatory conversation on this new bit of information about Sherlock.
Sherlock hadn't said anything since he came down the second time from 221B. John didn't mind it, he was far from used to his best friend shutting him out while he thought. Sherlock's brain was probably going a thousand miles an hour, thinking about this Moriarty scare. 'Did you miss me?' It was ridiculous to John. Even with the man deader than a door nail, he was still finding ways to jostle his life. After the incident at Appledore, John had forgiven Sherlock for his transgression, even if it had made him a murderer, something that Sherlock had fought time and time again. John was not one to judge a killer, since he had done the same for Sherlock during their first case when Sherlock was so caught up in solving the puzzle that he was going to risk his life for the answer. Sherlock had been grateful for John's protection of him and so the ex-solider decided to accept Sherlock's. Really, John wasn't upset about Sherlock's actions, only that they lead him to being sent to the four winds as punishment. This morning, even though they had said farewell in a fashion that reflected a return trip, he could not ignore the painful probability that his friend would be gone for good.
In the past few weeks since Christmas, he had been contemplating about his life without Sherlock and it had upset a deep part of his core. He had just reconciled with Mary and he knows there will be bumpy moments ahead with a baby amplifying any problem they'll have like any normal non-assassin couple would have. He needed Sherlock to give him a proper analysis of his life, it would be annoying at first but John would see the necessity of it in the long run. Sherlock proved himself to be the greatest friend he ever needed by making him see that his life, (albeit very unconventional) suited him and it was everything it is because he made it that way. Sherlock might be lacking in proper social manners, but he did see things John couldn't.
John started thinking about the new facts he learned today about his friend. Adelaide Holmes? Well, at least it fits with the mix of Sherlock and Mycroft, he still needed to get a story from their parents as to why they blessed this earth with those names. Knowing where Sherlock came from reminded John to give a bit more patience when dealing with his unusual friend. Sherlock had hid many things about his previous activities before he met John but nothing like his family. During their early days, he thought maybe he had a difficult home with a lack of parental care, but now in retrospect, he understood the true concern Mycroft had for his brother. Upon meeting their adoring parents, it was obvious that the oddity that is Sherlock had to have come from a very loving and supportive childhood. Sherlock certainly had challenges with other children, but he had family who nurtured his idiosyncrasies along with his intelligence. Now, after finally spending time with the elder Holmes couple, he got the impression that Sherlock and Mycroft were more embarrassed that they were babied so much by their family; Mr. and Mrs. Holmes just failed to treat them the same way most people did when they reacted to encountering the usually intimidating men.
John was just getting to know Sherlock's development into the world's only consulting detective and this sister business was just another log on the fire of the baffling things Sherlock had thrown at him this past year. Ever since he came back, his behaviour has been noticeably different. He was needy for affection from his close friends. John was happily surprised how well he and Mary had got on. Molly says she's noticed the same; that he has been keeping company with her with genuine companionship and not just when he wants access to the lab at Bart's. John suspects that his time away from his friends had changed him greatly. Sherlock was trying to be a good friend to them…well 'good' in his own special way. Less insults from unfiltered, unwanted deductions. He appreciated the change, but he wondered what his friend went through to get to this point.
Sherlock had been thinking of the Moriarty situation since Mycroft ordered his plane to return, going through the room in his mind that had been dedicated to the network of thieves, murderers and general thugs he had taken down over the two years he was gone. He was sure of where to look, even it had grown so massive and overwhelming. He often passed by this room, always shutting the door, but it crept open during his sleep when his mind was left unsupervised and wandering.
He reached the back wall of the room where the memory was caged up. Contained securely so it wouldn't wriggle free and make it into the other corners of his mind. The memory was ragged and struggling to breathe, it was coughing up blood and there was a large growing spot on its chest with a gaping hole was spewing scarlet. It managed to suck in enough air for a final, ultimate threat. "I will have his memory be a constant fear for all of them." Sherlock yelled at the remembrance and threw a chair at the cage as it sputtered out air trapped in its blood.
Sherlock screamed again, the one small window in the room caught his eye. There was a bright sunbeam passing through it, spotlighting a picture a woman that was framed on the table where the chair was. The loose end that was constantly threatening and dying in the cage had been eating at him since he had returned to London. That's when he had an awful idea. He smiled mischievously at the one person who could help him tie that loose end off. Yes, that would work. She would be the key to locking this room forever. He had been waiting for something big enough, something his brother would be desperate enough to give him anything he wants and here it was.
That is when Sherlock had made the first move to his plan: extort Mycroft into giving into his demands. If he was a more empathetic man, he might have felt guilt for using this moment to get what he wants. But ever the efficient Holmes, he wanted his cake and eat it too. He truly wanted to solve this case, but this case would solve his problems too. Why not have both? He did feel a moment of shame earlier for letting his emotions get away from him when Mycroft revealed their sister's location. It had been truly unexpected, why had she been moved months ago? He needed more data and he did need to put that away in order to keep focus on this Moriarty case. He went to his room he held for Adelaide, it was open already from this morning's emotional events. He didn't want to get stuck in the room for now, so he dropped the file just inside the door, the yellow sunshine that enveloped the room felt warm and he smiled before he exited to close the door. He almost closed it until it latched, but decided to keep it open a crack, letting the light stream into the hallway.
The cab stopped outside the indoor pool and Sherlock came back to the real world where John was paying the cabbie and standing on the pavement waiting for him to exit the vehicle. He straightened his scarf and popped his coat collar when he stood up from his seat. John gave him a smirk and shake of his head. "What?" Sherlock said defensively. John chuckled, "Nothing, mate. I'm just glad you're here is all."
They entered the pool and marched alongside the changing booths to settle at the midpoint of the water. Sherlock started scanning the room. They had renovated the last time they had been there, nothing much just a disabled ramp leading to an exit, other than that little had changed. He made his eyes focus where he first saw Moriarty in his true form. John looked that way as well and had the same thought as he fought back a chill on his back from the memory of a bomb strapped to him. There is where Sherlock saw it. A small smudge of yellow paint, just like the paint from their case with the Chinese "Circus". Sherlock strode to the blemish and peeled back a sign asking pool-goers to refrain from doing anything halfway fun, to reveal a cypher. It was similar to what they had seen before but it wasn't in the same language. John looked at Sherlock, "Ancient Greek? What does it say exactly though?" Sherlock was rifling though his mind but answered timely, "It's not words. It is a cypher, but it's using the Greek number system instead. We just have to find out what base source they are using."
Sherlock took out his small magnifying glass to take a closer look at the paint before delving back into his brain for ideas to decoding the puzzle. He closed his eyes and started to ruminate in his thoughts about what would be the correct book to use for this code. He was striding down the hallway where he kept his thoughts on that early case with John when the light from Adelaide's room caught the glint of his magnifying glass. It was so distracting and he didn't know why. That's when he found himself in her room. She was there on her bed, aged thirteen in their childhood home.
Eight year old Sherlock was looking for his sister to play pirates in the garden like she usually did when she came home from school. He found Adelaide deep in thought staring at that book with their dog, Redbeard, laying dutifully at the foot of her bed on a thick green rug. Sherlock clambered onto the covers and plopped unceremoniously next to her, looking at boring pictures of broken vases and dusty floors. Sherlock couldn't see why she would think it was interesting. It was nothing like the adventures that his favourite pirates did on the high seas. Adelaide gave a quick glance at the disturbance to her studies. She had been completely engrossed in her beautiful book on archaeology her father had brought home from London two days ago. It had beautiful full color pictures of famous dig sites and she was observing a few of them with a small magnifying glass she had nicked from an old chemistry set.
Sherlock had enough of his sister ignoring him over a book so he exasperatedly asked, "Why do you like archaeology so much, Addy? It looks boring. It's all old things from dead people," Sherlock ended with a slight sneer and crinkle of his nose. Adelaide gave him a discontented shake of her head, but she quickly thought of a way to explain her passion to him as she usually did for the ever questioning boy. "Because, little one, it's solving a mystery. You have to sort out what a person did thousands of years ago based only on the things they left behind. You can see what they ate, how they worked and what their family life was by just looking at ruins of their home. It's even better when you can find the actual person's remains. Dead people or not, they can give archeologists and anthropologist so many clues and each person tells a different story. It's like when Inspector Morse finds murders and criminals by just looking at the things they mistakenly left behind at the crime scene."
Sherlock took the magnifier from Adelaide and started twiddling with it, shutting and opening the small case. Sherlock thought about finding clues about people to deduce facts about them and concluding that it was less boring than he thought before. Adelaide continued, "And who knows, maybe one day, thousands of years from now, some future archeologist might find the remnants of Sherlock Holmes and she'll figure out how much he loved snooping in his siblings' rooms because none of his possessions were actually his" She gave him an affectionate nudge. Sherlock looked guilty still opening and shutting the glass. "I don't snoop in your room. I don't need to. You actually like me in here." Adelaide smiled, "Well my boundaries are different and you tend to find all my things boring and dull. Mycroft's things are the ones Mummy finds in your toy chest. You know that Myc hates having his geology collection 'plundered'."
The guilt ridden face of her little brother trudged on, "You do know that Mycroft looks for clues just like an archeologist does. Looking at dig site evidence is not too different than when he can tell when you have been in his room. You leave evidence behind and your behaviour reflects your actions." She scolded a little and Sherlock perked up, "But I have gotten better! He hasn't noticed the last three times I've been in there!" He smiled up at her, beaming at his accomplishments. "Yes, because I told you that you were tracking in dirt and leaving it all over his floor. Now, you take off your shoes before rummaging through his things. Mycroft is very smart, but you don't have to outsmart him—you just have to be smarter than he thinks you are. He doesn't expect you can plan ahead and take your muddy shoes off because you clearly enjoy spreading dirt and mud all around the house." Sherlock giggled at this. "Mummy keeps telling me to take them off at the door if they are dirty. Now I can keep doing it to fool Mycroft!" She gave him a smirk and squeezed him affectionately. "Well, she would appreciate it if you did stop leaving a dirt trail everywhere you go and after a while, Myc will figure out what you're doing. Then he'll expect more of you and then you'll absolutely have to stop being such a mess."
Sherlock gave frown at his hands. Disappointed that his plan wouldn't work forever. He still hadn't stopped with the magnifying glass and Adelaide felt bad for bursting his bubble of cleverness. Mycroft was the one who usually did that, not her. "Sherlock, do you really like that magnifier?" He looked up at her with adorable eyes that she could never seem to deny anything to and he nodded. "Then why don't you keep that. You can use it to find your own clues. Solve mysteries." His eyes got even bigger than before, "Really, Addy? You'd let me keep it?!" "Sure, little one. I bet you would make a fine detective one day. You can start with the 'Case of the Missing Biscuits that Mummy Only Bought Yesterday.'" Sherlock broke into a fit of giggles, "I don't need to go looking for clues to solve that. I ate them when I was waiting for you to come play in the garden!" Adelaide ruffled his curly hair and tickled her little brother until he couldn't take it anymore and Redbeard started barking at their commotion. They both made large sighs and they relaxed back to their previous sitting position and their dog settled back to sleep on the rug. Adelaide leaned over and put her arm round Sherlock, letting him snuggle in and look closer at the photos with his new possession. They continued to read her archaeology book together with Sherlock asking questions on almost every page until Mummy called them down for supper.
"Sherlock?" John was calling him back from his memory. He had spent too long in his mind and all without ever looking for what he needed. Sentiment was distracting but he felt better now. He was less stressed about the case than he was before. "Yes, John?" He added a bit of false annoyance to his response. "Well, did you come up with anything in that great massive head of yours?" John shook his hand towards the curly mass of dark hair. Now Sherlock's annoyance was less false. "Need more data. We should go the next location." Sherlock was already heading towards the door with John irritated with another one of Sherlock's hasty exits.
When they were in another cab heading towards Bart's, Sherlock still had his magnifying glass in his hands. He was in a train of thought again, something more case related, when John placed his hand on Sherlock's fidgeting ones and stopped its incessant opening and closing of the small case. "You know, you were doing that at the pool." Sherlock looked startled. He didn't recall the action at that moment in time. He looked down at the glass and his face softened. "Adelaide gave this to me. A long time ago when I was very young, she told me about how fascinating finding clues were."
John was surprised at the admission, it was so personal and unlike Sherlock to reveal anything of the sort. "She was nice to you? Adelaide?" The side of Sherlock's mouth went up a tick like he was recalling something. "She was the kindest person I ever had the honor of knowing, much less growing up with."
The cab made it out of traffic and sped towards the hospital where Sherlock ended the life as he knew it almost three years ago.
A/N: It's so fluffy i'm going to die! I had that cute moment written out a while ago and I thought it would be a good introduction to Adelaide. She's going to go through some stuff, obviously, but it's nice to see those two unmarred by harsh events. PLEASE let me know how you like it or if you have questions. I went though and started making the cypher for real, I might find a way to post it if it looks good enough. Sorry if Sherlock seems distracted or anything out of character. I just think that in his head he is more emotive and open than he is in his outward projection. See y'all soon!