The sister... [Recently edited]

Chapter 10 - And Craving Adventure [EDITED]

Mykala POV

I had been living with Mr and Mrs Holmes for two months.

Two whole months.

In those two months, I hadn't worked a single field case. Instead, I'd been buried under paperwork, reports, and endless research for Mycroft, working remotely from what was now apparently considered "home."

I had seen Sherlock exactly three times.

Three.

Christmas hadn't even gone to plan. He'd been called away on a case just before Christmas Eve, leaving me to spend the day with Mr Holmes, Mrs Holmes and Mycroft. We had eaten what was undoubtedly the most extravagant Christmas dinner I had ever seen.

Then we'd all sat in silence afterwards.

Not awkward silence.

Holmes silence.

The kind where everyone simply existed in the same room without feeling the need to speak.

I lasted twenty-three minutes before pretending I needed more tea just to escape.

I was officially going mad.

The house was always quiet.

Too quiet.

Mr Holmes spent most of his days reading newspapers or tinkering in the shed.

Mrs Holmes alternated between gardening, baking, and-I'm almost certain-reading the messages Sherlock sent me whenever I accidentally left my phone unattended.

Every time I returned, she'd smile at me just a little too knowingly.

I was beginning to suspect she was secretly rooting for us.

Which was both comforting and terrifying.

Most of all...

I missed Baker Street.

I missed the organised chaos.

I missed opening the fridge to find body parts next to the milk.

I missed chemical experiments taking over the kitchen.

I even missed arguing with Sherlock over whose turn it was to make tea.

I missed him.

Which was exactly why I found myself pacing my bedroom while talking to John on the phone.

"You can't move back to Baker Street, Kala."

I groaned dramatically.

"You didn't even think about that answer."

"I really didn't."

I flopped backwards onto the bed.

"Fine. I can't move back."

I sighed heavily.

"But can I at least visit? I miss my big brother."

There was a short pause.

"I'll allow visits," John replied, amusement clear in his voice.

"How generous of you."

"Only because you and Sherlock are... whatever it is you two are now."

I smiled to myself.

"We're still figuring that out."

"I know."

Another pause.

"He misses you, Mykala."

My heart skipped.

"He does?"

John lowered his voice to a whisper.

"He was actually considering getting a cat."

I sat bolt upright.

"You're joking."

"I'm absolutely not."

I laughed.

"No, this is serious."

Sherlock Holmes.

Wanting a cat.

That was practically a declaration of emotional collapse.

"I'd better come and check on him before he adopts an entire zoo."

John laughed loudly down the phone.

"I thought you might say that."

"I'll stay tonight and head back tomorrow evening."

"Sounds good."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

I slipped into my best Mycroft impression.

"Farewell, brother mine."

"Oh, don't you start."

I grinned and ended the call.

Within minutes I was stuffing clothes into an overnight bag.

Laptop.

Case files.

Paperwork.

Notebook.

Everything important.

Especially my work.

I still didn't entirely trust leaving confidential documents lying around.

Mrs Holmes was far too observant.

I wouldn't put it past her to accidentally-on-purpose read them.

Once everything was packed, I headed downstairs, slipping on my boots and coat before wrapping Sherlock's scarf around my neck.

I smiled instinctively.

It still smelled faintly of his cologne.

"Mrs Holmes?" I called.

"Mr Holmes?"

The couple appeared from the sitting room.

"I'm heading to William's. I won't be back until tomorrow evening, so don't wait up and don't cook dinner for me."

Mrs Holmes smiled warmly.

"Have a lovely time, dear."

She stepped forward and straightened Sherlock's scarf around my neck.

"And give our love to Sherlock."

"I will."

Mr Holmes looked up from his newspaper.

"Try to keep him out of trouble."

I couldn't help laughing.

"I'll certainly try."

Although, if history had taught me anything...

Sherlock Holmes and trouble were practically inseparable.

I waved goodbye before stepping outside.

Waiting on the drive was the car Mycroft had insisted on buying for me.

Apparently, having one of his employees relying on public transport was "inefficient."

I wasn't going to argue.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I started the engine.

As I pulled away from the Holmes residence, I couldn't stop smiling.

Baker Street.

Home.

And Sherlock.

I was finally coming back.