Chapter Text
Thursday 15th of May.
Dear Diary
Today I stood on the steps of 221B Baker Street, feeling a sense of trepidation wash over me. I had always been hesitant to accept help from anyone, let alone my brother, Sherlock. But this case had me strung along like a puppet, and wherever I felt closer to the answer, it slipped away like shadows into shade.
I expected one of three people to answer the door: Sherlock, his landlady, Mrs. Hudson, or his new flatmate, Dr. John Watson. It had been a month since I'd last seen my brother at his home, despite our agreement to meet every Thursday at 4 pm. Instead, we'd only met at Edith's, where I was currently staying until I figured something else out.
I hadn't been to 221B Baker Street for about a month, and this meant that I hadn't never seen Dr. Watson and Sherlock interacted. As far as I knew, Sherlock hadn't driven the doctor away yet. But we never talked about Sherlock's life when we were together. It was usually me, Tewksbury, my views on politics, how terrible of a brother Mycroft was, the weather, my new cases, or anything else that came up.
As I stood on the doorstep, a sudden sense of dread came over me. I had been a terrible sister. I always talked about my life and never once asked how he was, what cases he had been on, or his opinion on politics. It was then on that doorstep that I decided I would become a better sister to Sherlock.
Mrs. Hudson answered the door and greeted me warmly, leading me inside and offering me a cup of tea. I sat nervously in the living room, tapping my foot as I waited for Sherlock and Watson to return. Mrs. Hudson made a passing remark that I didn't quite understand at the time, but looking back, it was a big clue to what was going to happen. I heard the sound of laughter and two voices approaching the front door, and I quickly stood up and moved behind the edge of a wall, peeking out to see my brother and Dr. John Watson returning from a case. They were still riding the high of adrenaline, and I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows as I watched them embrace and kiss in the hallway.
I asked myself, outloud, "Did you see this coming?"
Sherlock broke away from the kiss and called out, "Who's there?"
John suggested it might be Mrs. Hudson, but Sherlock shook his head and crept toward where I was hiding. When he finally saw me, he let out a sigh of relief mixed with annoyance.
"Enola," he said, his voice tight.
"Is that your sister?" John asked, smiling and shaking my hand. "Wonderful to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you!"
I smiled back, feeling a sense of relief that I had picked someone so friendly for Sherlock. I gave my brother a smug grin, enjoying the way he squirmed under my gaze.
"Oh, don't be like that," John said. "I don't mind her knowing."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and headed up the stairs, followed by John and me.
"I've only heard of you through reading the papers," I said. "But then, I don't speak to my brother too often about you or, well, anything about his life."
There it was again, a sudden sense of dread blanketing me.
"Yes, why exactly are you here?" Sherlock asked, looking annoyed.
"I need help with a case," I replied, turning to my brother.
Now it was Sherlock who looked smug.
As I explained the reason for my visit, it was only interrupted briefly by John's offer to make tea.
"I'll make you a cup of tea, just speak up so I don't miss anything," John said, heading to the kitchen to boil the kettle.
I took the opportunity to compliment my brother, Sherlock.
"You know brother mine, he's quite a catch, isn't he?"
Sherlock bristled at my remark. He was still annoyed and uncomfortable with me knowing about his personal life. He replied calmly, "That finishing school still has a vacancy. I can send you back anytime."
But I insisted I wasn't mocking him. "He seriously seems lovely," I said, trying to sound sincere.
"What happened next?" Watson called from the kitchen.
As I finished explaining the case, the three of us made plans to investigate.
"I'd better get my revolver, just in case," Watson said, winking at Sherlock, who couldn't suppress a grin.
Finally, Sherlock softened to the idea of me knowing about his personal life. While Watson went to get his revolver, Sherlock told me, "Yes, he is quite the catch."
I smiled at my brother, feeling a sense of pride and admiration for him despite our differences. I was grateful for his help and knew that no matter what happened, I could count on him to be there for me.