harry, the brother.

meeting again

the same taste of alcohol ran down her throat as she groaned. it burned; it really did. but she couldn't seem to stop, meanwhile, john was having the time of his life in london. she'd miss him, well, it was her brother. "another shot, please!" she slurred to the waiter that passed by, which nodded in response. the waiter swiftly dodged and snaked through the people, delivering her drink. because she went to that bar frequently they knew what she meant when she said 'another shot'. she downed the bottle of whiskey, gulping quickly as the liquid scorched her throat.

finally, she stood up with wobbly knees and a bad stomach and headed for the door; side-effects to three bottles of whiskey. an ample hand pressed her stomach, making her stop. "what?" she asked impatiently. the large man at the door rubbed his fingers together and mimicked taking a shot. she stumbled to the table and slapped a fifty dollar bill on it.

she stepped outside just as a brilliant but life-turning idea popped into her head. i should visit john. of course she was intoxicated but it has been years since she'd seen him. the woman hailed a taxi, waving her hand in the air.

"can- can you drive to 221B baker street? please?" her voice seemed forced as she asked the driver, getting bored quickly, she mumbled to the song the radio was playing.

"sure dear." the driver responded, fixing his rearview mirror.

when the driver pulled over in front of the small apartment it was already four in the morning. family problems shouldn't wait! she thought.

she threw another fifty dollar bill through the man's window and waved at him once again as he drove away. she stumbled once again to the door and grabbed the doorknocker. the girl knocked unevenly a few times before a woman about sixty years old answered. "its four in the morn-"

"does a john watson live here?" she asked hiccuping quietly with her cheeks glossy from the freshly shed tears.

"yes, yes, come in." the woman ushered her in as the girl staggered into the building. they walked up stairs and she sat in a little chair in the middle of a living room. as the hours seemed to be decreasing in speed, her eyelids sealed and her head bobbed down.

"MRS. HUDSON WHY IS THERE A WOMAN SLEEPING IN THE LIVING ROOM?!" a male voice boomed through her sore ears and woke her up, startled. the man stood in front of her with his hand resting below his chin and nose and the other one supporting it.

"blonde, brown eyes, short, bisexual, alcoholic, recently divorced, drunk; ah, hello there harry. i'm sherlock holmes." he babbled rapidly. she sat there staring confused at what the man, sherlock, had just said and why her stomach felt weird every time she looked at him.

"what the bloody hell are you doing here?" john's voice popped through the threshold as he stood with a snarl on his face.

"john! i came from- i found where- i'm glad you're okay." she mumbled and slurred, turning in the same spot to look at him. as she looked up at the curly haired man once again her stomach fluttered violently. before she knew it last night's dinner and whiskey was splattered across the floor.

"for god's sake harry. look at me." john grabbed her face with both hands before inspecting everything. her face was pale, her honey brown eyes were duller than ever before and her blonde hair was dry as straw. he sighed tracing his fingers under her eyes and above her brows. "what have you been doing to yourself?" he whispered.

"she has been drinking to a sickening degree and has not attended to herself."

"sherlock, that was a rhetorical question."

"i hate rhetorical questions." sherlock huffed.

then a unladylike snort was heard from harry's corner as she chuckled at sherlock's joke. suddenly, sherlock snapped his head towards the girl. he eyed her faint freckles, the fading scar on the bridge of her nose, and the different shades of brown that coloured her eyes. she turned her head catching sherlock staring at her. "mr. holmes it's not nice to stare. by the way, you guys should clean that up."

"how about you get your arse up and clean it yourself? because being drunk is not an excuse."

"what's got you in such a foul mood, john? i came here to see you! would it be important if i came here sober? to me it isn't."

"fuck this." her brother exclaimed throwing his arms in the air.

"john, language!" the elderly woman came back holding two cups of tea. "some tea, dear? helps with the upset stomach." she whispered the last sentence, a small smile streched across her aged lips. "i don't believe we met. i'm mrs. hudson." as they gently shook their hands mrs. hudson pushed harry aside. "would you like to take a bath?"

"i don't- sure? maybe?"

"come on john, we have a case to solve." sherlock said, sparing a last glance at the blonde girl. he walked out if the flat. john followed him, closing the door behind his back.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. — .* :☆ﾟ｡･ ───

it's short... i know, but i've had it in my drafts for a loooonggg time and i just wanted to get it out there lol. vote if you like it, i guess? thanks for spending your time on this :)