Johanna has finally arrived and what does this mean for our two favourite Baker St. residents? Let me know what you think, guys!

Obviously, I do not own the world of Sherlock Holmes and I owe everything I know to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Guy Ritchie and some amazing performances by RDJ and Jude Law.

Enjoy!

Johanna Barton's imminent arrival had everybody in 221B Baker St on their toes. Mrs. Hudson hadn't been told quite the whole truth- I'm still not sure of the specifics. She was made aware that some form of relation was visiting but I hardly think she would have ever guessed at the girl's true identity.

It seems wrong to refer to her as "the girl" because Johanna came to be so much more than that, for both Holmes and myself, but a good story must be told in order and I don't think even he could have predicted the way in which things would play out. The day she arrived it was raining and I will always remember that; it was almost a metaphor for what was about to befall us all. Yes, we were about to be thrust into the figurative thunderstorm of the most personal and frustrating case of our lives but, like the rain, this too, would pass. But, for now, I will stick to the events immediately preceding and caused by Johanna's arrival.

To both Mrs. Hudson's and my horror, Holmes absolutely refused to clean up or even organise anything in his room. "If she can't accept me for who I am," announced, sitting in the middle of his little cave of organised chaos, "Then I'm afraid we can't continue this relationship any further." I rolled my eyes and went back to pacing up and down the room, as I had been previously.

I don't know why I was so nervous; Holmes was showing no sign of any such uneasiness. In fact, he had stayed virtually silent all day. I really hadn't the faintest idea what to expect of Johanna Barton and was worried about Holmes behaviour- he rarely took to new people well or even grew found of them in time, especially where women were concerned. Ever since the arrival of her letter, I had been trying to picture what she would look like I my mind but couldn't seem to get past a ridiculous image of Holmes in a dress with long flowing hair.

"That will be her, unless I am much mistaken," my companion said, as I heard the sound of a cab carriage coming to a stop. I stopped pacing like a madman and dusted off my jacket- a reflex action. Holmes, on the other hand, did nothing, refraining from even standing up.

"I'll just get that, shall I?" I asked sarcastically, as a sharp knock sounded upon the door. Not even waiting for a response, I strode over turned the knob, suddenly aware that I was revealing to both of us the woman who had preoccupied both our thoughts for the past week, if not longer in Holmes' case.

And suddenly there she was, our eyes meeting for the very first time. Of course, I couldn't help but look for the resemblance between Holmes and her right away but was surprised when I found very little. There was something reminiscent of my friend, obviously- the eyes and the dark features perhaps- but there something completely different as well, a sense of warmth that was apparent to me immediately.

"Doctor Watson, I presume?" she said and I had to admit that perhaps there was more of a similarity than I had originally thought.

"How did you know?" I asked, becoming aware that I had probably been standing there staring for longer than was polite.

Her mouth turned up into half a smile. "When I found out about Mr. Holmes, I read almost everything about his work that I could. Your name is often right next to his, you know."

"Oh," I replied, realising how stupid I had been, "Of course." The sound of Holmes clearing his throat brought me crashing back to Earth. "Please," I implored, finally stepping aside, "Come in."

Turning around, I realised Holmes was now out of his chair and standing to attention. Seeing the two, father and daughter, standing face-to-face, was really something.

"Well," the young woman began, placing her two suitcases down either side of her, "Here I am, at last." If it weren't for the obvious family characteristics between the two, she would have almost looked out of place in our somewhat shabby residence, wearing a powder blue dress that appeared to have been tailored to her specifically. Hanging from her neck was a large gold locket on a long chain.

Holmes was endeavouring to hold himself together but I, who possibly knew him better than anyone, could see he was overwhelmed. Displays of emotion from him were such a rarity that I had been worried that seeing Johanna for the first time would cause him a mental breakdown, or at least prompt him to flee from the situation. However, the thing about Sherlock Holmes was that he never ceased to surprise me. He extended his hand in greeting to the young beauty.

"Johanna," he said decidedly, as if confirming to himself that her existence was indeed legitimate. "It's a pleasure to meet you." His mouth was smiling but his eyes showed hints of fear he was clearly trying to suppress. "Sit down, my dear; we have much to talk about."

It occurred to me then that this was well and truly a family gathering. A father sitting down to converse with his daughter hardly seemed like the sort of thing I should interrupt so, I remained exactly where I was. I was seconds away from turning around to leave the room, when Holmes added, "You sit down too, Watson." Perhaps he did not want to be alone, after all.

"Yes...alright," I responded, quickly making my way to the only available chair. I could hardly refuse my dearest friend in what was his hour of need.

Miss Barton sat in a way that benefited the excellent upbringing that she had, no doubt, been provided with. Straight-backed and alert, with her hands resting delicately in her lap, she faced Holmes with eager eyes. Despite this, she said nothing, instead, waiting for him to speak.

It seemed Holmes had no interest in making the first move in the conversation either. I believe it was out of desperation at the poor girl's, to him, unjustified interest that he said. "Well, Johanna, you should start by telling us everything we ought to know about you." Why I had been dragged into this, as if I had some right to know the explicit details of the lady's life, I was not sure.

Johanna's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Evidently, this was not the welcome she had been expecting. One could hardly blame her though; any other childless man would have probably welcomed his long-lost offspring with open arms. "There isn't much to tell, Sir," she explained, "Besides what I have already told you in my letter. My life was positively dull before my sister's illness and subsequent confession." Holding her hands out, palms up, as if she had nothing more to offer, she said, "Everything you think you know about yourself isn't really true once you've had your identity called into question." Her eyes flickered back down to her lap momentarily. "I'd much rather hear about you, if that's an option."

Holmes looked as though he was considering this, when she quickly added, "Not that I'm turning my back on my parents, of course. They have raised me to the best of their ability and I love them dearly."

"Do they know you are here?" my companion asked. Whether he truly wanted to know this or was just dodging having to present any information about his own life, I was not sure. During the time I had known him he had revealed hardly anything about his life prior to our meeting.

"No," she admitted, but with no trace of guilt, "In London yes, but as to my specific location, no." It seemed a dangerous lie to have to tell, in my opinion. "They think I am staying with an aunt. It was necessary, Mr Holmes. They do not know about you and even if they did, my father would fret at the idea of me so much as walking in London without the adequate supervision of a family member."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," I offered, feeling I might as well contribute something. If I had a daughter, particularly one so beautiful, and had read about the nature of crime in London, I would have similar fears.

"In all truth, Doctor," replied she, "I am the reason. I see that know."

Embarrassed, I offered nothing else and allowed Holmes to dominate once more.

"What of your aunt though? Is she still expecting you?"

"No," the young lady explained, "I wrote to her yesterday saying I would be unable to make it, a detail I chose not to share with my parents."

"What if she chooses to write back to you?"

"In the letter, I said I would be occupied for some time and would have little to no chance to read or write. I will be passing a similar message on to my parents tomorrow, lest they should try to contact me at my aunt's home."

"Well," said he, clearly somewhat surprised, "That seems to be in order. If you have nothing else to say, I cannot force you."

The young woman then, rather bravely in my opinion, piped up, "I'd still much rather hear more about you, Mr. Holmes."

In the moment it took Holmes to formulate a reply, I couldn't help but feel the tables had turned, or at least, tilted slightly. She was almost his perfect match and if it hadn't been for the sense of kindness I had perceived in her at the door, I would daresay she would make one hell of a criminal.

"I am afraid, Miss Barton," Holmes shot back, but still in a most friendly manner, "That we are much in the same boat. Truthfully, there is not much to tell of interest that you would not have been able to read already and the only recent development in it has been, well...," he gestured across towards her, "You."

The lady that she was, Johanna couldn't help but smile at this. "You are very kind to say so." Looking around the room, she added, "Although, I am sure we will find more to ask each other throughout my stay."

"I promise we shall never run out of conversation topics from this moment on," Holmes declared. He immediately turned to me, "Watson- why don't we hear about you now?"

I was taken off-guard. How could he really think it was fair to reveal nothing about himself to his own daughter but to have me recount my life story step-by-step?

"No, no!" I declined, waving the suggestion off. "It hardly seems appropriate."

"Nonsense!" my friend exclaimed, "You live here too. Besides," he added, much to my embarrassment, "Decorated war hero turned medical extraordinaire; I'm sure young ladies love that sort of thing."

I could feel my face turning red, even if I couldn't see it. "There will be time later, I'm sure."

"Actually," Holmes rebutted, pulling out his pocket-watch, "There's really no time like the present. It would certainly fill in the little time we have before dinner."

"Oh please, Doctor!" the lady joined in, turning those eager eyes upon me.

It appeared I had been backed into a corner. "Alright," I relented, "But it really isn't as interesting as he's making out."

"Oh please," my friend scoffed, looking between me and the girl who now had one arm up upon the side of the chair and her head resting in her hand, looking straight at me, "You're fascinating."

A/N: Hope no one's disappointed! I sort of wanted to make this chapter longer, kind of blending in what I'm going to start Chapter 3 with but, looking back, I think this is the best place to break. Just a word of warning, Holmes will be taking a short leave of absence in the next chapter but don't worry, he'll be right back in time for things to get dramatic. It will just give Johanna and Watson some time to get to know each other, that's all ;)

Keep reading and reviewing like you have been :) You guys are so sweet.