John and Mrs. Hudson were out. The house was quiet. Sherlock sat silently in his chair, staring across at the floral wallpaper that covered the room and the yellow, spray-painted smiley face that decorated it. He longed for a case, a challenging one, anyway - Lestrade had only come in with a few unsolved murders, all with only a single killer with their own motives. All of those he solved within the space of time between lunch and dinner.

This was when Sherlock heard a knock on the door.

"Watson? John?" he called, momentarily lost in his thoughts, forgetting the absence of his colleague. Then, with all details remembered, he sighed and placed the violin that had been sitting on his lap on the coffee table. Another knock came.

"Be patient, will you?" he barked. The wooden stairs creaked as he walked, the old material bending slightly under his weight. Another knock.

"Oh, just be quiet! I'm almost there!" As the locks were unlatched with his slim hands and the door was opened, a rare spectacle was observed by the visitor - Sherlock's eyebrows were raised and he gasped in surprise.

"Hey, Sher." the girl at the door mumbled. Then she collapsed into his arms.

"Ow," Her head hurt like hell. She had no idea where she was, and her memory was a blur. "What-where am I?" she questioned, hoping for an answer from thin air. She appeared to be on a bed, in a room not her own.

Oh, shit. she thought. Did I get drunk last night? That would explain the headache. Whose bedroom is this? Questions were answered when a tall, dark-haired figure walked into the room holding a steaming mug.

"Addi? You're awake, good." the concern in his voice barely showed through, and it was obvious that he hid his emotions well. But she analysed things for a part-time job.

"Where am I?"

"You're in London. My flat, my bedroom. You knocked on my door last night, remember?" He placed the mug on the bedside table, and carefully felt the girl's forehead with his hand. She was burning up, so he stood from his crouch and grabbed a washcloth from the cupboard.

"W-wait. Sh-Sherlock?" she stuttered as he ran some cold water over the cloth, then paced back over and laid it, folded up, on her head.

"Yeah. Addi, try to remember what happened. I have a guess, but you should tell me so I know." He was being gentle, and not too harsh.

So unlike Sherlock, she thought. Hey, I'm remembering things!

"Sherlock?" A voice called from downstairs. Adeline had no idea who it was, and even less of what happened the night before.

"Sherlock? Whose coat is this? It looks like a woman's-" He stopped as he looked in the room. He was short, blond and had hazel eyes. He had obviously just gone out of town for a funeral, as he was wearing a very formal black suit, and some dog fur was on the shins of his trousers - long and white so he probably stayed with someone who owned a shi tzu. Sherlock looked up, then back at the girl.

"Who is that? Sherlock? Did you bring someone-"

"John. Outside. Now." he commanded, pointing at the man, who slowly slipped his head back behind the door.

"I'll be back in a second. I just have to explain you to him." he informed Adeline. He stood up, but not before turning the washcloth over and smiling gently at her.

Once the door closed, Adeline could vaguely hear their conversation, but she listened anyway while drinking the tea Sherlock had made for her.

"Who is that? And is she sick? I'm gone for one day and you manage to find some random person-"

"She's my sister."

"Well, of course she's your- Wait, what? You have a sister? And you never told me?"

"Calm down, John. She just came in last night, and once I opened the door she collapsed on me. She's been attacked."

"By who? Why would someone-"

"Oh, just be quiet, Watson! We'll do that later. For now, she needs to meet you."

The door opened up again.

"Addi, this is Mr. John Watson, my colleague. John, this is my sister, Adeline Holmes."

Of course! How could I forget about John Watson? He's how I keep tabs on Sherlock, with all his blogging. She reminded herself.

"Uh, hi, nice to meet you, Adeline. I'm John."

"I know. Please, call me Addi." she croaked as they shook hands.

"Okay, then."

"So I was attacked?" The question was aimed at Sherlock.

"Yes. Rather clumsily."

"Go on."

"Well. First off, there's a few rug burns on your arms. So you got shoved in a sack, and by the smell of your clothes it was burlap." he explained. He came off as mostly intrigued and calculating, but Adeline could see the worry in his eyes and hear the extremely slight waver in his voice.

"They obviously put you on a plane, because you were in America. A cargo plane, transporting animals - you looked like food. They brought you over here to use you to get a ransom, for either Mycroft or I. They let you out, which was a mistake - you have become a black belt in multiple martial arts as well as boxing and kickboxing - and you escaped, but not before they managed to get you drugged and they hit you on the back of the head with a pipe."

As he said it, pieces started fitting together in Adeline's mind - little flashbacks of darkness speckled with transparent light, a tunnel lit with flaming oil barrels, people with plague masks - and suddenly she remembered everything.

"Oh, ow, my head."she moaned. A painful headache came with the memories.

"You should rest, Addi." Sherlock moved quickly to her side, and threw the washcloth at John.

"Get a new one."

"Be nice, Sherlock." she whispered as she drifted off.

'ELLO! I hope you like this story. It's my first time writing not only on , but also in third person. I generally write in first, on Wattpad.

Anyway, please, uh, like? And comment? And follow? And keep reading? I have no idea how to use this website, I've only just joined. Oh well. Do whatever, but please don't copy. I will be sad.

But most importantly...

ENJOY!

~RisorialParaph