221c - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Allison

"No," I said, not turning to look at Greg.

"No what?"

"I'm not a female Sherlock."

"How did you-"

"I'm my own person." I stood and clapped my hands together. "Sher, got any ideas as to who killed this woman?"

"A few, seeing as everyone murdered has died of anaphylaxis. The murderer knows what the victims are allergic to."

"Ah, I see. That strongly suggests chef or relative."

"I wanna say chef, because none of the victims are relatives."

We were now walking briskly down the street to a nice little café that Sherlock said served excellent fish and chips, after informing Greg who to look for.

Once we were seated and had ordered, Sherlock gave me a playful smirk and said, "You allergic to anything?"

"Only idiocy."

Sherlock chuckled. "I can safely say, then, you will not die around me."

It was my turn to laugh. "You know?"

"Hm."

"I haven't seen much of John lately. Or Mary. I've never met Mary, and I should like too."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I should have them for dinner sometime."

"You mean we."

"Oh?" I was slightly taken aback

"Yeah, we."

"My place though."

"Why?"

"Your place needs a deep cleaning with antiseptic and a Hoover vacuum."

Sherlock cracked a smile. Our food came shortly, and we soon dug into some of the most delicious fish and chips I'd ever had.

Once I had properly gorged myself, we took a cab back to Baker Street. I collapsed on his sofa. "Remind me to never eat fish and chips again." I groaned.

"You did eat quite a lot." Sherlock perched on his chair, not bothering to take his coat off.

"You could take that off," I admonished, sitting upright.

"You're right, I could." he shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to."

I got up and sat in John's chair, across from Sherlock. I pulled out my phone, and started checking messages. "My brother Daniel texted again. He still wants to meet up."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Does next Friday, December 3rd work for you?"

"For lunch?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Alright, good then." I didn't say much more after that, and neither did Sherlock. We both just sort of sat in peaceful, pleasant silence.

I got up very early. I hadn't seen my brother in at least four years, and I was nervous to see him. The last time we had been together, we had fought viciously. Don't get me wrong, I love my siblings, we just don't get on well all the time.

I went out, on my way to get a coffee. I was, however, stopped short by a young woman in heels.

"Miss Cooper, if you could please get in the car," the young woman motioned to a black vehicle parked along the kerb.

"Erm..."

"Please." this was not a question, it was more of a demand. So, I did what any natural person would do. I got in the car.

"I'm Allison."

"I know that." she wouldn't even look up from her mobile. How rude.

"What's your name?"

"Erm...Anthea."

"Is that your real name?"

"No..."

"Okay then. Who am I going to see?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Miss."

"Call me Allison, or Ally. I like Ally. Sherlock calls me Ally sometimes." Oh God. I was babbling. I did it when I was uncomfortable and felt out of place. Was the only reason I like that nickname because Sherlock gave it to me? No, my mum and dad called me Ally, and so did Daniel, whom we called Danny or Dan, and Genevieve, whom we called Genny or Gen.

Geez, even my thoughts were babbling. I shook my head slightly as if to clear my mind.

She didn't reply. Of course not. Before long, we pulled up in front of a large building with the words Diogenes Club printed on the outside. Hm.

I was ushered inside, after being told by 'Anthea' not to say a word. I signed, using British Sign Language, that I wouldn't talk. She didn't seem to find this funny, and pushed me in ahead of her.

I greeted the man at the front desk by signing, Hello, how are you today?

I am good, thank you.

No problem. I haven't the slightest idea why I am here.

That is odd. Anthea walked in and the man nodded knowingly. I know why you are here.

Why am I here?

The man didn't answer me, and Anthea beckoned for me to follow her. We were shown up to a large private room.

"Hello, Allison. I've been wanting to meet you for sometime now." A voice came from a chair that had its back to me.

"Who are you?"

"A friend."

I gave a contemptuous snort. "I don't have any of those."

"Oh?"

"Well, not in the sense that you mean it, at least. I have people I care for, but not friends."

He swiveled around in his chair. Upon looking at him, I knew exactly who I was dealing with. Mycroft Holmes.

He was tall, and of average weight. He had light auburn hair, and blue eyes. The way he gazed down the length of his long, hawk like nose and his uppity demeanor game me the sense that he thought little of me.

"I should like to think contrarily."

"Mr. Holmes." I said blankly.

"Ah, yes. You know who I am."

" 'Course I know who you are."

"Well then, do you know why you are here?"

"You are probably going to offer me money to spy on Sherlock."

"Right."

"Well then, how much?"

He gave me a thin-lipped smile. "First, I should like to know just how much you know about my little brother." I stood awkwardly, and he motioned to another chair, facing his. "Please, sit." I sat. "Now, carry on."

"So, he claims to be a high-functioning sociopath, but the definition of a high-functioning sociopath doesn't quite fit him. I would, rather, place him somewhere on the Asperger's scale. However, I myself can relate to this. We work on cases together, and since I have known him I have not observed his drug habit."

"Very good. Now, do you think you could keep me informed about his whereabouts periodically throughout the week?"

"I don't see why not."

"Okay." He handed me a cheque. One-thousand pounds.

"That's quite a lot."

"Use it to buy the dress."

I gaped. How could he have known? I voiced my astonishment. "How did you know that he..."

"Lucky guess." he said, raising his eyebrows. Anthea came to retrieve me, and I was shortly back at Baker Street with a latte and £1,000.