SHERLOCK STRANGE IMAGINE

YOUR LAST NAME, MISS..[S.H]

It seems strange to be back home. I have been gone for almost 20 years now. I was forced to leave England for the United States. My parents were less then thrilled sending their youngest child across the ocean, especially since I was 4 at the time. My uncle convinced them that it was for the better when Eurus started her mischief.

While in the U.S., I grew up with my uncle in northern Indiana. My parents, mostly mum, would call me everyday, then it turned into weeks, and weeks into months. By the time I was in middle school, they stopped calling all together. This truly upset me because those were the best phone calls, knowing what my brothers were doing and how successful they've been. These cheered me up when I would come home from a hard day at school. I was bullied, constantly. I wasn't smart like my brothers, but I was smart enough to get Salutatorian of my class. This was partially because it was a small school and my classmates really didn't try. Once I graduated, I moved out of my uncle's house and got an apartment. The teasing and brutal words didn't stop after high school.

When I would by things from the store and had to sign my name and then Holmes, the clerks would ask if I were any relations to the famous detective. "I'm a big fan of his blog. Could you, perhaps, do a deduction." My answer would always be the same, "Sorry, but I am unable to do that." They would frown and say, "Your right. You must be a fraud or something. Besides, he never mentions a sister." Secretly this would break your heart knowing that your brothers never thought about you anymore, did they think about Euros then?

I walk around London a bit more, but nothing really brings any memories. I try to remember where Mum and Dad lived, but I couldn't and decided to seek out my famous brother Sherlock. His address was easy to remember because of the posting on the blog for clients. "221B Baker Street." I hail a taxi and tell him the address.

I look at the black door with 221B on it. I pace a little bit debating if this was a good idea or not. I lift my hand to knock when an older lady opens it. "Oh! Are you a client?" Not fulling understanding the question, I look at her red hair and then back down. I must have gotten the wrong address somehow. She didn't seem to notice, "Are you here to see the detective?" She asks a little bit slower. "Yes."She gives a happy laugh and claps her hands a little bit. "You look like you have a very interesting story." She leads me up the stair case, and I jump a mile high when you hear a gunshot. "Ooh. He's shootin at the walls again." She stops in front of a door and slowly peeks her head in, "I brought up a client." She smiles and a short man in a green plaid shirt with graying hair walks in front of the door. 'He must be the doctor who helps Sherlock on his cases. What was his name? Jim, Joe, no, it'll come to me.' He beckons you in and turns a chair to face the fireplace. There are two chairs facing each other, Sherlock sits in the black leather one and the doctor the other. "What's your name?" 'John! That's his name!' I look over at him, "(Y/N)" He nods and writes it down on a pad of paper, "And do you have a last name?" I look down at my feet wondering if now would be the time I say it, but Sherlock says,"Of course she has a last name." I look at Sherlock,'Does he remember me? Is he as good as everyone claims?' Sherlock stares at me. "You have a last name. You're to terrified to say. Which means you are probably running away. No! You're looking for someone, but who? A person who shares the same last name as you." He stops and takes a breath. He looks me over again, but this time circling me.

You look at him wondering what he is reading, "Interesting." You look up at him. Not quite sure what he means by that, 'Is he remembering something?' John looks at him too, "What, what is interesting?" I smile a little hearing their British accents, "Our client is from the States. Why come all the way here to look for someone?" He sits in his chair with his fingers under his chin and he was looking down. Suddenly he jumps up, "I'll take it!" John looks surprised. 'What is he taking? Has he figured it out?' John snaps me out my thoughts, "What? You're taking her case? Why?" I turn to look at Sherlock who soon gets really close to my face. "She's curious. I can't seem to deduct anything else then what I have already said." John shoots me a shocked look. I give my voice, "Really?" Sherlock goes to the window and stares out of it. John still in shock asks again, "What is your last name (Y/N)?" I look at John, now he seems a bit agitated, "it'll be easier to help you find whoever you are looking for." I turn my head and see Sherlock hasn't moved, "I may help by telling you who I am looking for." John shakes his head, "If you know who you're looking for, why do you need help." I give a sigh, "Because it has been over 20 years since I've been in London. I don't remember their address and they did not give me it." Sherlock gives a smirk, but continues to stare out the window while saying, "Yes. But what is your last name?" I get up from the seat and take a breath. I can tell when someone was irritated, "I tried to tell you it." Sherlock groans and turns around. "Stop being stubborn. I really want to know. What is your name?" I take a deep breath and prepare for the worst that could come out of their reactions. I look at my brother, "Holmes, My last name is Holmes."