*SPOILERS FOR THE ABOMINABLE BRIDE!*

I'll help you pack up in your flat. - KW

I lay on my bed, my head resting against the pillow propped up against the headboard. John and I were just making plans for Saturday, the day when the move happened.

The day when my big brother was one step closer to the best day of his life.

What, so you can gawp at Sherlock all day? ;) - JW

I smiled sadly. That was only half the reason.

That and… I just want to spend some quality time with my big brother before he moves on and forgets me. That too much to ask? - KW

Kodi… you know you'll still be my little sister, don't you? I won't ever forget you. You know that right? - JW

I smiled a proper smile.

I do now. I love you, big bro. - KW

I love you too, lil' sis. - JW

It pained me to realise that none of this involved Harry. Harry stayed over at Clara's so much that I hardly ever saw her anymore. I hadn't even talked to her in just under a month.

I haven't seen Harry in ages. - KW

I didn't know what John would say to that. They were far too distant from each other to really care. I wouldn't say they hated each other, it was just that neither of them were as close with the other as I was with each of them.

Don't think she really cares, tbh. - JW

I found myself frowning.

Cut her some slack, John. You know she's had hard times since… years ago, actually. - KW

I could hear John sigh and his voice break in his next text.

Yeah, I know what you mean. It's just that… we were pretty much distant since we were teenagers. I never saw much of her. And then… she went and started drinking. And me being the naïve little kid that I was, I drank every word up from those drug lessons we had in school… and it never really went away. Not even now. So when I realised that those people in the pictures they showed us could be my older sister, I tried really hard to steer her away from that specific direction. It didn't work, and I got mad. So I resented her. I resented her for not listening to me. For not being the older sister she should have been. And then she resented me for continuing to bug her. And… we've never really been as close as you are with us for that reason. - JW

Seconds later, another text pinged up.

Deep down, I probably still care for her. I probably love her as much as I love you, Mum and Dad. But on the surface… I can't bring myself to give a damn anymore. I can't bring up the feeling of love for my older sister. That's really bad, I know. - JW

I figured we were gonna have to stop texting. I dialled his number, waiting.

'Don't you dare say that you don't give a damn,' I said, even before he could say hello.

He heaved a sigh. 'I know it's terrible that I feel like that… but I have a heart of stone when it comes to her.'

'What if she died? Would you be able to prevent yourself from breaking down at her funeral?' I asked sharply.

There was a long, heavy silence. I could tell John was thinking about what I said. 'John?' My voice had softened; I started to feel bad.

'Now that you mention it like that… I doubt it. I doubt I could stop myself having a mental breakdown. Harry did have some good points, actually.'

I smiled. 'Yeah, like the time you won the Best Mathematician Award in primary school and Harry was the one who took you out for McDonalds afterwards. Remember that one?'

John laughed. 'Yeah. She was only twelve then, I think.'

'And then I lashed out because I wasn't allowed to go with you.'

'Yeah, because you weren't the best mathematician, were you?'

'It was the school's fault. They axed the award before I was in year six. I never got the chance to be nominated. I was pretty good at maths though.'

And just like that, we were spending hours just talking about the good things that happened in our childhood.

It was only when John said that Sherlock was complaining about our long conversation that we finally ended the call.

'Where'd you want your shirts to go?' I asked John, as I took out his multiple shirts from his wardrobe.

John looked up from looking under his bed. 'Fold them nicely into that blue suitcase I have stashed in Sherlock's room.' He resumed rummaging under the bed.

'Why's it in Sherlock's room?' I asked as I started folding the shirts up.

'Technically, it's Sherlock's but I used it when Molly and I went over to France that other year. He said I was free to use it whenever I needed to, if I promised to keep it in his room.'

I laughed. 'OK… That's a little weird if you ask me, but whatever floats his boat.'

'I'll go get it after I've finished here.'

I abandoned the shirts as I walk round in front of John.

'Jeez, do you never use the vacuum cleaner under your bed?' There was so much fluff and dust that he'd brushed out.

'Sherlock likes the dust to build up so he can analyse it. Believe me, I tried to talk him out of it, or at least let me clean my own room but no.'

In that split second, I started making a list in my head.

Mental List for 221b Baker Street (specifically if I move in).

1) Huge clean up

2) New rules

I went back to folding John's shirts. After I'd finished, I said, 'I'll go find that suitcase.'

'OK,' John replied.

I walked out of John's room and over to Sherlock's. His door was closed so I put my ear to the door listening. No sound coming from inside.

I knocked (just in case, you know?) and then opened the door. The room was empty. I searched quickly with my eyes but the suitcase was nowhere obvious. I couldn't meddle around in Sherlock's room without his permission so I decide to go and get him.

I saw him at the living room window, just staring.

'Sherlock?' I asked. He didn't reply.

I walked over to him. He didn't seem to register my presence. I softly put my hand on his shoulder. 'You OK?' I asked softly.

He suddenly shook his head and looked at me. 'What? Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?'

'You seemed really distant for a minute,' I explained.

'I was thinking,' he responded.

'About?' I asked, genuinely curious.

'Emelia Ricoletti.'

I frowned. 'Who's she?'

'A bride who committed suicide in 1895,' he said dismissively.

'Why're you thinking about it now?'

'She could lead us to Moriarty.'

'Really?'

'Yes.'

'How come?' I let my hand rest next to his on the windowsill.

'She blew her brains out in front of a crowd and then supposedly 'came back from the dead' to murder her husband, just like Moriarty. Almost.'

I scowled lightly. 'Jeez. And you're trying to solve her case?'

'Mm,' he replied, his eyes following back up into the street.

'Right.' I turned to leave, and then remembered why I was there in the first place. 'Oh, I nearly forgot. John said something about a blue suitcase, somewhere in your room?'

Sherlock smirked. 'You didn't want to pry in my room, did you?' he asked lightly.

I matched his smirk. 'Oh, no. That would have been extremely rude of me.'

'Come on. I'll show you.'

I followed Sherlock into his room. He closed the door and offered me a seat on his bed.

I watched him pull out a small stool from under his bed (surprisingly free of dust), put it by his wardrobe and stand on it. He reached atop the wardrobe and took a small bag between his fingers. Without looking back, he tossed it onto the bed behind him, merely missing me by millimetres.

'Don't touch anything,' he instructed.

'I wasn't planning on it,' I replied.

He flung most of the junk he store on top of the wardrobe on the floor, and finally, he pulled a blue suitcase from the very back. 'Here you go.'

'Took you long enough,' I smirked.

He laughed. 'Don't tell me you didn't like what you saw.'

I stopped. Really? 'Oh, I liked it, alright,' I said, hoping my crimson wasn't showing through in my voice.

'Then I deduce you weren't disappointed by the fact that I have so many things on top of my wardrobe.' He propped the case up and took a seat on the bed by the pillow.

I burst into laughter at that point. 'OK, OK,' I said once the laughter wore off. 'Fine, you have me cornered.'

'I thought so,' he chuckled. 'Now, I believe you have a brother waiting in his room for you to pack his shirts up.'

'Oh yeah.' I stood up from the bed. I walked over to the door after holding the handle of the suitcase and looked back. 'See you later, Sherlock.'

He simply smiled.

I walked back into John's room and when he saw the suitcase behind me, he gave me a look of disbelief. 'I don't know how you do it, Kodi,' he muttered.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. 'Do what?'

'Lighten Sherlock's mood enough to make him joke around with you. I've never been able to do that.'

'I don't know,' I shrugged, heaving the suitcase onto the bed. 'I thought he was like that with you as well since you're his closest friend and all.'

John shook his head, stifling a laugh. 'Never. Well, on a minimalist level, yes.'

'Oh.' I stopped filling the suitcase while I thought. 'John?'

'Hmm?' He looked at me quizzically.

'Do you ever… do you ever get the feeling like something life changing is gonna happen to you soon?' I asked.

'Well, yeah, since Molly and I are going to get married soon.'

'Yeah, I guess so.' I shook my head.

'Anything going on?' he asked, concerned.

'Just a bad feeling. Nothing to stress about.' My reply was calmer sounding than I felt.

'Sure?' he asked.

'Yeah.' I resumed putting in all the shirts.

'I'm here if you decide you need to stress about it,' he grinned.

I matched his smile. 'I'll hold you to your word,' I replied.

We finished packing all the things in John's room. All his clothes were put in suitcases. His bedroom was pretty much staying the same apart from that (and a few of his memoirs and souvenirs being packed away as well), as Sherlock would need a new flatmate soon and that flatmate would need a place to stay.

We both dragged the suitcase downstairs (John pulled the suitcase, I followed behind) and now we were sifting through the papers in his and Sherlock's filing cabinets, to see if there was anything of importance he had to take with him.

Suddenly John's phone rang and from the smile on his face, I knew it had to be Molly. He excused himself back up to his room and I was alone with Sherlock once again.

'So,' I said as I pulled open a bottom drawer. 'How did Moriarty die?'

Sherlock looked up from the ring binder he was looking at. 'Oh, on the roof of Bart's. He shot himself through the mouth, just like Ricoletti.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Are you still thinking about that woman?' I asked.

'I told you, Mrs Ricoletti's case could lead us back to why every screen in England showed Moriarty's face and him saying, 'did you miss me?'.' His voice conveyed a note of irritation.

'Oh. That. Yeah, I guess so.' I shrugged, returning my focus to the drawer that I held open.

'Kodi…?' Sherlock said suddenly, after around five more minutes of silence.

'Yeah?' I kept my attention trained on the papers in front of me.

'When… actually, never mind.' Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him run a slender hand through his black curls.

Why did witnessing that send a shiver through my spine?

'Sure?' I asked.

'Yes, yes. Please, do carry on with whatever it is you're doing.' He motioned around with his hand.

I looked back at the papers before John came back into the room.

'Hey guys,' he said, smiling like a maniac. He joined me on the floor and picked up an envelope.

'Nice convo?' I asked slyly.

'What?' John looked at me, giving me a weird look. 'Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, it was good.'

John opened the envelope slowly and his smile widened as he realised what it was.

'What is it?' I asked.

'The first ever letter Henry sent me. Before he had my number.' The grin was still there.

'How'd he have your address before he had your number?'

'I'm Sherlock Holmes' blogger,' he chuckled. 'Not hard to deduce where I live, is it?'

I laughed. 'No, I guess not. What did he say?'

'Private, see? I know you're my sister and all, Kodes… but some things are only meant for one pair of eyes.'

'OK. Whatever you say. You might wanna take it with you, though. Before I open it and have a read.'

'Oh, I will, don't you worry.' My brother turned to Sherlock. 'You OK, there, Sherlock? You've been rather ominously quiet…'

The paper that Sherlock had been clutching at fell to the floor. 'Yes…' he replied slowly, standing up. 'I'm fine.'

'Where're you going?' John and I both asked at the same time after Sherlock reached the living room door.

'Just need to run an errand,' he responded absentmindedly as he reached for his coat and scarf.

The toned body disappeared as he slipped into the outer garments. No… my mind groaned. I paid it no mind, concentrating as Sherlock descended the staircase.

When he had disappeared, I looked back at John. I gave him a look that said, does Sherlock run errands?

John looked at me as if I was mad. No, he mouthed slowly, shaking his head.

I shrugged, continuing (after what seemed like the hundredth distraction) to sort through the documents in front of me.

But I couldn't fully focus. Sherlock didn't run errands.

Something was up.

Hey, everyone! How did you like this chappie, eh? I know I enjoyed writing it! I'm looking forward to writing the next chapter too, as it's… no, you know what? I'm going to shut up. You can all find out next time.

I'd love it if you left a review, they're always welcome! Thank you for checking out my story, hope you enjoyed it! Bye!