Supermerwholock One Shots

Sherlock One-Shot - Message in a Bottle

'19th December 2016
'My dearest brother Sherlock,
'Glad to see your name is as girly as ever! But that is not the reason for my annual, ignored letter. As I'm sure you remember, I am forbidden from leaving the manor, due to my constant ill health, else I would have visited you years ago.
'Last week, Mycroft visited me for the first time in five years. Outrageous, I know! He promised me every other year at least! Anyway, he was filling me in on London's news, including about you, dear older brother. He informed me of your new flatmate - and partner in crime-investigation - John Watson.
'I am guessing he was an army doctor. (What? I know you too well.) Is he from Afghanistan or Iraq? Anyway, onto the purpose of my letter. As I'm sure you've been trying to forget - silly brother - Christmas is nearing. So here I am, once again writing to you, to ask, neé beg you to come back to Land's End for Christmas Dinner with your lonely little sister. If you wish, this offer is easily extended to your John Watson.
'Please reply, dear brother, I so desperately wish to braid your curly hair as you used to let me, when we were younger.
'Hopefully, and with love,
'Your sister,
'Zoe-Elizabeth Holmes'
John turned over the envelope and laughed. Sherlock's sister had even put on a return-address, just in case.
Still holding the letter in his left hand, John walked over to his writing desk and sat down. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen. At that moment, Sherlock walked into the room. He immediately spotted the letter, covered in his little sister's handwriting.
"Hey!" he shouted, snatching the letter from the desk. "This wasn't addressed to you! It's from my sister!"
John turned to face Sherlock. "You never say you have a sister... And she writes every year to offer you someone to share Christmas Dinner with."
"Do you not like our arrangement?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject.
"A Chinese Takeaway is not a valid substitute," John replied, calmly. "Just..." he sighed. "Just read the goddamned letter, Sherlock."
However, Sherlock was one step ahead of John and was just reading the last paragraph. "Huh... Ignored letters indeed!" he huffed as he folded the letter along the original fold-line.
"Well, I'm going to write a reply, then we're packing our bags for the journey, Sherlock."
"Why?"
John paused. Sometimes he really couldn't understand the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes. "Because it's time you saw your sister again," he replied, turning back to his writing desk and starting to write.
'Zoe-Elizabeth Holmes,
'Sherlock thanks you for the letter, but is too high-and-mighty to reply himself, so I, Doctor John Watson, am writing this for him.
'As soon as I have finished this letter, we shall be packing our things, ready to travel to Land's End, to spend Christmas with you.
'In answer to your question, I was an Army Medic in Afghanistan. Ironically, that was the first - no, sorry, Sherlock is correcting me - second question that Sherlock ever asked me. If you are intrigued, the first was: "Can I borrow your phone?"
'I was sorry to hear that you've had a life of ill-health thus far and would like to say that I too was ill often as a child. Sherlock says I mustn't make a big deal out of it, though I will leave that entirely to you.
'Sincerely,
'Dr John Watson
'& your brother Sherlock
'P.S Zoe, I am not too "high-and-mighty" to write, I am just always busy solving cases.'
As soon as John had finished the letter and sent it - first-class - to the return-address, true to his word, he and Sherlock were packing suitcases for a trip to Land's End. John informed Mrs Hudson, who was quite happy to - finally - have a peaceful Christmas, where they were going and for how long, while Sherlock booked a taxi to the correct station, where Sherlock and John had free rail travel across the whole of England, after the case about the railway scandal... Though that is a tale for another time.
After an overnight journey and three taxi-cabs later, the two finally reached the Holmes Manor, at Land's End, on 22nd December.
Wearing five layers on her body to ward off the cold from outside, a girl of eighteen awaited them at the door. From under the five bobble hats, they could just see her chestnut-brown hair. The few parts of her skin they could see where paler than a brand-new, blank, sheet of paper. Her eyes were a pitch-black, black-hole kind of colour. John found that they also acted like black-holes, as he could completely forget what he was doing if he looked at them for too long. She was - discounting the layers of extra clothing - approximately 5'11" in height, a mere inch away from Sherlock's 6' stature, whereas John was merely 5'6" in height. Smaller, even, than the average fourteen year old girl.
When she saw her older brother hauling two suitcases from the boot of a taxi, the girl threw her arms into the air and shouted: "Sherlock! You're home again!" Leaving John to pay the driver and collect the suitcases, Sherlock raced towards his sister. When he reached her, he lifted her up effortlessly and spun her around in a circle.
When he put her down again, he said, quite composedly: "Thank you for your letter, dear sister, but - you see - I cannot attend Christmas Dinner this year, as I am aiding an injured ex-army doctor. The winter weather wreaks havoc with his war wounds." Then his face cracked into a grin.
"Nice to see you, too," she smiled. "Now go and help John with your bags, I'm getting cold." She stood on the tip of her toes and waved to John. "Hi, John! I'm Zoe!"
"Cold, huh?" Sherlock mocked, retreating towards John and the bags.
"Oh, come off it, Sherl! We all know your soul is cold!" she jested, teasing her older brother.
Barely audible over the low whistle of the wind, John whispered: "I don't think his soul is cold."
Zoe cackled and spun about in a circle (to keep some warmth) "That's a first! You should keep this one, Sherl!" Sherlock and John shared a look. Zoe - thankfully - did not see, else she'd never have stopped teasing the two of them. Before she could question what was going on, the two collected the bags and made their way into the manor.
As Sherlock and John had started carrying their bags, Zoe skipped into the house, away from the door. Once she was out of sight, Sherlock took John's bag from him, knowing that John's leg would start playing up soon.
John went to argue that he was fine. Sherlock gave him the look that he uses for when he sees Anderson. At the sight of this look, John knew better than to complain about Sherlock helping him.

This was going to be an interesting Christmas holiday, John thought.