Charlotte woke hours later in her bed. Outside, it was a clear young day and the sun was beginning to warm the world. She slowly sat up, wondering if the night before had been a dream; perhaps that lulling melody had been her mind looking for comfort. She stood and grabbed a small bathroom kit and a simple outfit for the day before heading out of her room.
The flat was quiet, and the traffic of the city hadn't quiet begun in the early hours. John sat in his armchair, dressed and drinking coffee while reading the paper. Sherlock was still in his sleeping wear and robe, hair tousled and face tired. He was slumped in his own chair, fingertips pressed together, and eyes closed in some sort of meditative state.
Charlotte knew the polite thing would be to greet them, but she didn't feel like being polite at such an hour, so she trailed quietly into the bathroom to freshen up. Moments later, she came back out into the living space and cleared her throat.
"Someone left their toes in the bathtub," She squeaked.
It took only a moment for John to process what she had said before he jumped to his feet.
"Sherlock!" He cried. "For God's sake!"
Sherlock looked indifferent, but he stood and left for the bathroom, grumbling all the way. John ran a hand through his greying hair and sighed. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. He just loves his experiments."
Charlotte wasn't sure she'd ever get the image of the things out of her head but replied in her kindest tone. "I understand. He must be researching something important. I just wonder where he got the toes…"
"From the morgue, I'm sure."
"The morgue?" Charlotte inquired curiously. "He has easy access to it then?"
"You could say that," John replied, sitting back down. Charlotte sat in Sherlock's chair to face John.
"What kind of work is it, exactly?" She questioned.
"Well, I'm a doctor. He calls himself a "consulting detective"," John said trying not to scoff.
"That makes sense…" It didn't really. "How often do you go?"
John quirked an eyebrow. "Whenever they need us for a case. Why?"
"Oh, no reason, it's just rather fascinating. I mean, that's not a usual thing, you know. Working in a morgue, let alone bringing home souvenirs."
"Well, that's Sherlock for you. Completely unusual."
"And that's why you love him," Charlotte said with a nod and a genuine smile. She was pleasantly surprised to see John flush ever so slightly and clear his throat.
"I wouldn't exactly say-"
"The toes have been extracted." Sherlock walked into the front room, making a beeline for his chair, but stopping when he found Charlotte there. She looked up at him and found him looking slightly irritated.
"Oh, sorry." She jumped up when she realized why he had been glaring. He plopped down into the chair and resumed his odd and thoughtful state.
She trekked back to the bathroom and cleaned herself up. After showering and drying, she brushed out her curls and dressed into her white top and black dress. Charlotte liked dressing in a way that made her feel rather smart and sophisticated. She gazed in the grimy mirror and sighed at the state of the messy room. This will not do. She decided she'd have to tidy things up soon. She slipped on her black headband and retreated to the sitting room to sit with Sherlock and John.
Sherlock was now texting furiously and John typing away at his laptop. They looked like two teenage boys obsessed with their screens and Charlotte smiled to herself at the thought.
"Who are you texting, Sherlock?" Charlotte asked, sitting on a chair beside the table. She leaned against the table and propped her head up with a hand as Sherlock replied with looking up.
"Who says I'm texting? Why not tweeting or blogging, hm?"
"Don't be so defiant, Sherlock. It's obvious."
"Explain your deduction, little girl."
"It's not deduction, it's common sense."
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
"Enough, you two," John grumbled.
There was a quiet pause and Charlotte watched her dangling feet swing back and forth.
"Besides," She said quietly this time. "I didn't really do anything smart or figure out a puzzle. I can see your screen."
Sherlock put down the phone and turned to give her a look of irritation.
"M?" She continued. "Is that Mycroft, then?"
"Yes," Sherlock replied curtly. "Do you always pester and pry like this?"
Charlotte was taught by her father to never snoop or pry, but her mother taught her to always be curious and ask questions. "Yes," She decided. "I do."
She was surprised to Sherlock smile, and as unsettling as it was, it looked real to her. "Good."
The day went on. Charlotte mostly kept to her room, practicing and playing the cello until her hands were sore. Sherlock stumbled around the flat, flipping through papers, looking through at experiments, and reading. He was obviously bored to tears as he searched around for something to keep him preoccupied. John obviously grew tired of this Sherlock as he decided to go out and buy groceries for the home.
Around that time, Charlotte made her way to the kitchen where Sherlock sat inspecting something through his microscope. She sat across from him, legs dangling, and face supported up by her cupped hands.
"Sherlock?"
"I'm rather busy at the moment."
"Sherlock, why don't I know you?"
"Excuse me?" He looked up and looked at her with a furrowed brow.
"I'm not trying to be mean. I just don't understand. My mother talked of how wonderful and clever you were, but it was like she was talking about someone who had died. I've never met you until now. Perhaps, they got things wrong? Maybe my godfather died and they just confused you with him."
"Mm, very unlikely."
"Then why don't I know you, Sherlock? Why did we never visit you?"
"Your parents visited my family often, Charlotte."
"But why not me?"
Sherlock sighed, and she noticed how tired he looked.
"What can I say? I'm bad with human relationships. Keeping in contact wasn't in my interests after I grew up."
She stared right through him. "Don't lie to me."
He narrowed his eyes. "What kind of game are you trying to play, little one?"
"Are you even sad about my parents? Do you even care?" Charlotte asked. She was still quiet as ever, and gentle as a cloud, but still pressing.
"Would it be so wrong if I didn't?" Sherlock spat, and it cut Charlotte.
She bit her lip and stood. "I know you do care. You can't hide everything behind your mask of indifference."
Charlotte turned and left.