Allie stood behind a tree, watching as the people her brother had accumulated over the years gathered to mourn his tragic passing. "What the hell?" she said to herself. "They can't seriously believe that he's actually dead!" A small voice in the back of her head reminded her that ordinary people didn't pick up on stuff like that quite as quickly.
"But… He isn't dead. Obviously," she argued with herself. "Yes, of course it's obvious, or you wouldn't have noticed it," replied the little voice in her head. "I'm not an idiot," Allie told herself. "Sherlock didn't believe that," the voice said. "Doesn't," corrected Allie. "He's not dead."
She hushed herself and retreated further under the shadows of the willow tree she stood under. John was walking by with a tall, frizzy-haired blonde that Allie could only guess was John's sister.
She watched as not only the Watsons but also the crying landlady, the smoking police inspector, and the pale pathologist walked by. From her research, Allie knew that the pathologist was deeply in love with her brother. She also knew that typically, when people were in love, they would show some signs of grief, anger, anything when the victim of their affections brutally killed himself.
"Sorry, did I say victim?" Allie muttered softly to herself, staring at the brunette's receding back. "I meant…" her voice died out as the last person faded into the distance. She turned back towards the grave that presumably marked her brother's burial location. Mycroft was the only one left standing there.
Allie slipped her handy-dandy binoculars out of her pocket and peered through them towards where her brother stood. "Talking to himself?" she wondered aloud. A moment later a branch near Mycroft rustled; out stepped Sherlock. "Typical," Allie snorted. "Only Sherlock would eavesdrop on his own funeral."
Allie pressed herself against the trunk of the tree as her brothers walked by. Every bone in her body longed to go meet them, to speak to them, but her mind was insistent. She would not break the silence.
After college, Allie had left in rather a hurry. As in, the day she graduated. Her friends had been shocked to learn that she was graduating two years earlier than the others her age, but her family had only considered it normal. Below average, even.
Angry that, once again, Allie was considered average compared to her perfect brothers, she packed her bags and left. It wasn't hard for her to get a job in London, and sooner or later she stopped trying to hide from her family.
To her surprise, however, they weren't looking for her. Nowhere. There was no sign of any inquiries made for the twenty-year old with the icy blue eyes who had run away from home, and on the rare occasions she saw them on the street, Allie melted into the shadows.
Right now was no different. Allie could barely breathe as the men who had ruined her life walked only a few feet away from her. Allie so desperately wanted to run to them, to fling herself into their arms, but she knew she couldn't - so instead she went to her first line of defense.
Usually Allie's Mind Palace was warm and bright and cosy, but after having seen her brothers it was cold and dreary and dreadful.
"Hello," she said to the Mind Palace version of herself - the annoying, depressive version that couldn't help but argue. "Long time no see," she said, again trying to start a conversation. "Not as long as it's been since you've seen your brothers," replied Alaya coldly. "How long has it been, seven, eight years?" "Five," said Allie quietly. She hated when she was in moods like this because Mind Palace Alaya - or just Alaya, which Allie found more fitting for the Holmes version of herself - always attacked her.
"Ah," said Alaya with a nasty smile, and she sat down on a leather chair that appeared from nowhere and pressed her fingers together. "I suppose you can't conjure one up for me?" asked Allie, looking at the comfortable furniture her 'evil twin' was sitting on. "Your Mind Palace," shrugged Alaya.
Allie glared at her. Another chair appeared, this one behind Allie. She went to sit down on it, but right as she shifted her weight the chair disappeared. "Hey!" Allie cried, looking at Alaya from where she sat on the ground.
"I thought you might break it," said Alaya. "I wanted to save it from having to hold your fat butt." With as much dignity as she could muster, Allie rose from the ground. "I can't deal with you when you're like this," she announced. Alaya grinned at her. "Likewise," she replied. Allie firmly planted her feet in the ground and crossed her arms.
Right before she exited, she heard Alaya say in her normal voice, "Sherlock's leaving the country to chase down a killer - you might never see him again."
Allie quickly re-entered her mind. "What do you mean?" she demanded of herself. Alaya laughed bitterly. "What," she said. "Didn't you notice? Look at the clues, Allie." She spat on her name. Allie glanced around, wondering what clues she meant. As though on command, files and files worth of information started flying towards her."
"Sherlock Holmes - internet phenomenon, has a funny hat. Total genius," she said. "So far, so good," said Alaya. "You might want to actually think, though." Allie ignored her.
"He has a game plan for everything. Knows just how it'll all work out." "Naturally," added Alaya. "Big bad wolf comes to town," Allie muttered. Alaya let out a short laugh. "I'm assuming you mean Richard Brook?" she asked. "No, I mean James Moriarty," replied Allie haughtily. "Very good," said Alaya with a smile.
"James Moriarty. A liar. He told people Sherlock hired him - but why?" "Oh, Allie," Alaya said. "Why don't you just think a little?" Allie hit her forehead with an open palm. "Of course!" she exclaimed a moment later. "James Moriarty, a total criminal mastermind! He can do anything! Calls himself a 'consulting criminal'! He's a genius who started hanging around Sherlock! He convinced Sherlock to fake his own death for some reason, I'd bet my life on it!"
"Not that that's saying too much," added Alaya. "But why?" asked Allie. "Why bother going through all that trouble when he knows how smart my brother is?" "Allie," said Alaya. "Think."
Allie closed her eyes for a moment. They popped open, and she grinned. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "He's bored!" Alaya clapped slowly. "Give the girl a prize," she said sarcastically. Allie spun to face her. "Bye, Alaya!" she said.
"Wait!" cried Alaya. "Where are you going?" Allie gave her a smile. Even as she stood there, the gray of the Mind Palace faded, leaving the place a glowing, flawless white. Alaya observed this. She knew how well the appearance of the Mind Palace reflected Allie's mood. "My brother is chasing down the world's only consulting criminal," Allie said. "And the only man in the world who's just as smart as the Holmes."
"Yes," said Alaya. "I know that." "But do you know what's better than a fair fight between two geniuses?" asked Allie. Alaya considered this. "No," she admitted. Allie nodded. "I'm feeling energised, so I'll tell you," she said. "It's an uneven fight between three geniuses - Sherlock, Moriarty, and, of course, myself!"