"Mycroft has been bothering me," Clare told Sherlock when he saw her walk into the restaurant where he and John were. He had called her earlier in the evening, insisting that she come for dinner with he and his new flatmate and she had no idea as to why he had been so persistent. Persistency equalling seven texts messages in the same hour. Sherlock moved along in his seat, allowing his sister to grab another chair and pull it up to the table, settling into it as she pushed her coat from her shoulders.
"He wants to know about John," Sherlock muttered, his eyes looking out the window intently as Clare watched him and she raised a brow whilst the doctor placed a hand onto his own chest.
"Me?" he wondered. "Who is Mycroft?"
"Our brother," Clare simply spoke, offering her hand out to the middle aged man. "Clare Holmes."
"Sherlock's sister, I presume," John said, taking her hand and gently shaking it as she smirked, glancing over to her brother who was still looking out the window.
"Unfortunately," she drawled, wondering if Sherlock was intending to pay attention to the two of them.
"I did hear that," Sherlock spoke to her, resting his arm onto the table and placing his chin into his hand.
"So why am I here?" Clare pondered. "What is so urgent that you sent me seven text messages?"
"I need you to be look out for me. I'm on a case." Sherlock curtly said and Clare rolled her eyes, sitting back and crossing her legs before picking up the menu, looking into it and wondering what to order. Sherlock noted her actions and he moved his head to the side, watching her with narrowed eyes and a face of confusion.
"What are you doing?" he asked her. "That's not keeping lookout."
"When you invite people out for dinner then they don't eat beforehand, Sherlock," Clare spoke shortly to him. "They come out and expect dinner hence why I am ordering food and a drink. Do you want anything?"
"Don't be absurd," Sherlock snorted, taking the menu from her hands and laying it on his side of the table as John did nothing but sit and watch the sibling, wondering what type of upbringing they had.
"I forgot," Clare muttered, "you don't eat when you're on a case. You do know how unhealthy that is, don't you?"
"You keep reminding me every time I have a case," Sherlock mumbled. "Dear sister," the sarcasm at the end was evident. "And besides, I know what you will want to eat. You'll have a lasagne like you normally do."
"I might have something different to prove you wrong."
"I dare you."
"Do you want anything Doctor Watson?" Clare finally spoke back to John as he simply looked at her, coughing once and shaking his head as he did so.
"I'm fine," he assured her.
"Please do not feel the need to not eat simply because Sherlock isn't," Clare informed him. "He's always been an odd one."
"Oh the love," Sherlock muttered. "I thought you might have brought Charles with you."
Sherlock remained staring out of the window, his eyes smirking with amusement and his eyebrows rose on his forehead.
"Charles is busy at home working on people's accounts." Clare spoke, sounding slightly bored and Sherlock picked up on it. He knew his sister was a young and spirited thing. She was twenty one and already engaged to a twenty seven year old accountant who took his job extremely seriously. She pretended she liked the role of a stay at home fiancée but Sherlock knew better. He knew she got bored. He knew she was like him. Maybe not as sociopathic but heading that way.
"Boring you, is he?" Sherlock mumbled and she rolled her eyes.
"Good try, Sherlock," she spoke ironically. "I know I made the right choice to leave university and be with Charles so do not talk like you just did. So Doctor Watson, why did you agree to move in with my sociopathic brother?"
"Um," John stammered for a second, looking at Sherlock as he looked back at him; waiting for an answer. "I don't really know to be honest."
"Neither do I," Clare mumbled back as Sherlock stood up quickly, grabbing his coat.
"He's here," Sherlock declared, looking outside.
"Who is?"
"The killer."
"I am not going after a killer!" Clare snapped back at Sherlock as her brother bent down and kissed the top of her head in glee.
"Then keep John company."
Sherlock stormed from the restaurant, shrugging into his coat as he did and moving with haste as he did. John looked at Clare for a moment and then stood up as she did the same thing. They ran outside in time to see Sherlock rush over a car bonnet.
"Sherlock!" Clare snapped at him. "Don't you remember mother saying never play in traffic?"
The car which Sherlock had been following rushed out of sight and Sherlock shook his head, his hands moving either side of his head as he thought about things in his head.
"Road closure!" he yelled out, running hastily to a building as John followed him and the pair of them scaled the length of it. Clare remained at the bottom, looking up and not fancying the climb in her heels as she thought about where the diversion would take the cab. Staying on flat ground was much more preferable to her. She shook her head, allowing Sherlock to continue on his little escapade around London as she walked onto the main street, hailing a cab before climbing into it.
"Baker Street," she said, deciding to meet Sherlock back at his flat. She heard the locking of the doors and instantly wondered what the hell was going on. "Did you just lock these doors?"
"I certainly did, Miss Holmes," he assured her and she leaned forward in the seat, her eyes focused on the driver.
"Who the hell are you?" Clare snapped.
"It doesn't matter who I am. It only matters who you are, Miss Holmes."