As John fidgeted on whether letting his sister into the flat or not, Sherlock took the decision for him, crossing the room in long steps and swinging the door open. His brain seemed to be unusually interested in this sister whom John almost never mentioned and even now, wanted to avoid. With over exagerated actions and red cheeks, the woman stepped into the little living room without much elegance and stormed right in front of John.
"Now, what do you say to a sister whom you haven’t seen in years, Hamish?" She said with a loud, reproaching tone. To Sherlock’s surprise, John made no comment when she used his middle name, the one the doctor happened to hate.
"Hello, Harry." Only two, dry words. Under the soft lights, she appeared to have a strong yet reckless personality. A second-hand blue three-piece outfit made from cheap materials, accesorized by a black imitation leather handbag, bought at some outlet and overworn throught the years, showed the struggle in finances. Must have been the reason for her to resort to drinking, leaving a drunk Harry who was prone to start fights with her ex-wife and probably John. There was nothing surprising, out of the normal or even remotely amusing about her person. Now that all observations had been made, Sherlock noted how uncomfortable John seemed in her presence. As he kept looking at the floor, avoiding eye-contact, Sherlock saw a chance to interrupt a pointless conversation.
"Why show up now? After all the struggle John has been through trying to keep away from you, why now?"
"Am I wrong? Isn’t this what you have been doing all this time?"
"Considering the late of the hour and your heavily alcoholized breath, you are not thinking clearly and this is obviously a compulsive act. What could have possibly happened…"
An enraged John, whose clenched fists shaked violently at his sides, stared without blinking at Harry. Even Sherlock had jumped slightly, shocked by the volume of this angry little man. He had never seen him this mad, not even when he returned from the dead and happened to interrupt the marriage proposal. A light sob was heard, as he turned his head back and saw a shaken Harry. She cluched her handbag with fear, completely lossing the stern persona portrayed before.
"What. Are. You. Doing. Here." His gaze never breaking contact, John almost commanded an answer from his sibling.
Harriet flinched at the sound of his low but imposing tone, the alcohol lowered all the walls she’d learnt to put up in order to survive the crude society. With a trembling hand, she opened her handbag and took out a yellow folder.
"Mu-Mum…she’s alive." She cried, the folder falling to the floor, spilling the papers inside. In that exact moment, Sherlock’s phone buzzed, drawing all the attention. The message was one expected, after the riot caused in London, but not in this manner, not in this ocassion.
'I will give her back, if Sherly agrees to play. JM'