How Sage Became a Holmes//book the first (A Sherlock BBC Fanfiction)

Sage's Freedom

One fine spring morning, I awoke on the couch of 221b like I did on so many mornings. The sun was streaming through the windows, and there was a faint hum emitting from the kitchen; the tea kettle.
"Ah, Sage. You're awake." I heard Sherlock say. I turned to look at him. He was standing in the kitchen doorway in his best dressing gown, a mug of tea in hand.
"Mm. Morning." I mumbled. I suddenly bolted upright.
"Sherlock." He raised an eyebrow. "It's Sunday."
"Yep." I ripped the covers off the couch and hopped to my feet, throwing my arms in the air. "I'M EIGHTEEN TODAY!" I shrieked, proceeding to frolic about the flat. Sherlock watched me, a mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. John came out of the bathroom just then, still in his pajamas. He smiled at the sight of me, also in my pajamas, dancing around.
"Hm, could something important be happening today?" I waltzed over to him, grabbing him by the hands and spinning around.
"Oh nothing much. I'm just turning eighteen, which only means that I'm FREE!" I shrieked the last word and ran back to the living room. John was laughing and shaking his head, and Sherlock sipped his tea.
"You know what this means?" I asked them.
"You can drink alcohol?" Said John.
"You're officially an adult?" Said Sherlock.
"Both. But-" I stopped, reaching for my phone. I punched in a number and hit send, my phone dialing the number.
"Yes?"
"Mycroft! Good morning."
"Sage, it's only seven o'clock in the morning..."
"Oh, I know. But tell me, Mycroft, what day is it?" Silence.
"Ah yes, happy birthday, I suppose." I smirked.
"Indeed. Thank you. You shall see me soon, I'm stopping by to pack up my things." More silence. "I can imagine we'll be there around 1:00." Still silence.
"We?" He said finally, sounding irritated.
"Yes. John is helping me." No response. "Bye." I rolled my eyes and hung up. "Well." I said, turning to John and Sherlock. "You two officially have a new flat mate."
The day was eventful, to say the least. John insisted on taking me out to breakfast (Sherlock wasn't interested. Go figure.) and we then went to Mycroft's house to collect my things. There were only three boxes; I really didn't have or need much. I wasn't one for sentimentally attaching myself to objects. We went back to the flat; where I-you guessed it-spent and hour or so tidying since we had people coming over for a party. I wasn't that comfortable with birthday parties, but it was more of a "flat warming party" if you will. Because on that glorious day, I was free of everything that tied me down. I was an adult, no longer in the custody of Mycroft Holmes. So naturally, I moved in with his brother and his flat mate.
Mind you, it was cramped. It was not a flat meant for three people, but we managed. Mrs. Hudson offered me 221c on a discount, but it wasn't the same somehow...I don't know. Maybe I lied when I said I don't form sentimental attachment to objects or things.

The day flew by in a whirlwind of events. I felt warm and fuzzy all day, being surrounded by the people I love celebrating with me, believe it or not. And it wasn't a just a day commemorating me being one year closer to death; (how I often view birthdays) it was a day that I spent with my family, celebrating adulthood and my freedom.
Oh, and I had my first legal alcoholic beverage, curtesy of John.
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The day after my birthday I spent actually moving my things in. I had my very own dresser that sat in the living room right next to the couch, which contained all my possessions (other than some clothing that I stole some of Sherlock's closet space for).
Mrs. Hudson surprised me with a birthday present that had to be hauled up stairs by John and I; a new couch. To be specific, a couch that pulled out into a bed. I had grown to love the old sofa, but the new one was certainly welcome.
Over tea, after all the unpacking had been done, John and Sherlock gave me their presents. The package from John was cube shaped and immensely heavy. Tearing away the packaging, I revealed a complete set of Shakespeare's works.
"YES!" I squealed and hopped up from my seat, throwing my arms around his neck. "Thank you!" He laughed and squeezed me back, before saying:
"It's from Sherlock, too." I turned around to attack Sherlock. He was already standing right behind me, arm outstretched with another small box in his hand. I looked at him inquisitively.
"Well?" He said impatiently.
I took the box and pulled off the paper to reveal shiny wooden box with a latch. I opened it to see a small, glistening hand gun. My eyes lit up, and I looked up at Sherlock.
"Oh, great. Really, Sherlock?" John exclaimed when he saw what I'd just been given. I ignored him, and attacked Sherlock in a long, mostly unwanted hug.
John snatched the gun from my grasp, and walked over to the bookshelf where he hides his and Sherlock's.
"Right, this is only for emergency purposes, Sage." I released Sherlock to face John.
"Ok."
"You can't fire it until you've been properly taught by someone, preferably other than Sherlock."
"Technically he's already shown me how-"
"Third," John continued. "Remember it's not a toy, so don't go shooting the walls whenever you feel like it or anything." I saluted. "We're clear?"
"Yes, mum." He rolled his eyes.

That evening while absorbed in "Hamlet", there was a knock at the door. Sherlock was at the kitchen table looking into his microscope, and John was upstairs, so I answered it. There was nobody there. Instead, a single stalk of blooming sage lay on the floor at my feet, with a note attached to it. I picked it up and flipped the card over.
Happy Birthday
-JM x
He was back.
Sure, this was creepy.
Sure, he's a stalker.
But he was also back.
This was the start of the fall.