Okay, this one runs a bit long, sorry. Disclaimer again: I do not own Sherlock! I only own Alice.

(Alice’s POV: )

I went home and went into my room, prepared to stay there until Sherlock contacted me. I had changed into shorts and a tank top and was lying on my bed staring absentmindedly at the T.V on my ceiling. Someone knocked and I sat up.

 “Jasmine!” My sister shouted.  I smiled excitedly and let her in; I rarely saw her.

 “Heeeeeeey!!” She said in a squeaky voice, engulfing me in a warm hug. I had to stand on my tip-toes 'cos she was taller than me.

 “Hey! What happened?” I asked, stepping away and brushing some hair behind my ear. She usually didn’t get a day off unless someone higher than her was sick.

 “I uh... just got the week off! I’m not sure why... I figured I would ask Mycroft tomorrow.”  She replied, coming in and taking off her suit coat. She noticed me grimace at the mention of the Holmes, but didn’t ask. She had dark brown wavy hair that went down to her waist. She had more tanned skin than me, as she cared about that kind of thing. Her skin was flawless. Her eyes were a darker green than mine and she had a flawless figure. When I was younger I was always jealous of her. She wore her standard work clothes; a white blouse under a tailored suit coat and an a-line skirt. Sometimes a pencil skirt and a coloured shirt to change it up.

 “That’s brilliant! I just got back from Venice.” I said, plopping back down on my bed and switching the telly off.

“What’d you do now?” She asked knowingly, rummaging through my closet for a shirt she liked.

 “Nothing!” I said as innocently as I could. “Just disposed of some information for the government...” I told. She changed into a nighty with some black leggings, both of mine, and sat on my bed cross-legged, looking at me accusingly.

 “There’s something else. Who helped you?” She asked mischievously. I hesitated.

 “Sherlock Holmes and John Watson...” I said slowly. Her eyes narrowed.

 “Mycroft’s brother?” She asked.

 “No, the maid’s boyfriend. Of course Mycroft brother. How many ‘Sherlock’s are there?” I said sarcastically. She smiled.

 “So you finally got the stuff to go see him, eh?” She asked, looking at me suggestively. I sat up and faced her with my hands up defensively.

 “Hey, no. It’s not like that. I only liked him when I was little. I wouldn’t resort to that. He’s brilliant but I don’t think we’re compatible.” I rambled.

 “Oh? How come you’re gonna go help him on his next case?” She asked, holding up my mobile.

 “Oy! No snooping! That’s cheating!” I cried out, snatching it from her. She laughed.

 “It’s 'cos he... begged me.” I said, wincing. She laughed for a good couple minutes with me sitting there, sulking.

 “He-he begged you!?” She gasped. I scowled.

 “Yes. It’s true! The exact thing he said was,

‘You aren’t boring.’ And then, ‘You aren’t boring. John is. Nothing ever happens to him. I want you to come back when I get a case.’ And I refused but he said that he would text me when he got the next one and I couldn’t really argue.” I explained.

 “Ooooh he liiiikes yooou!” She said teasingly, making her voice squeaky. I looked horrified, at least tried to.

 “He is famously asexual. He is... yeah...” I argued pitifully.

 “I know. You’re right. I was joking.” She said seriously. I blew out a breath, unhappy that she was messing with me. She laughed and lay down on my left pillow. I sighed and lay down next to her. She grabbed my hand and smiled at me. “Hey.” She said.

 “Hey.” I replied, grinning back.

 “I missed you.” She said sincerely.

 “I missed you to.” I said quietly. She grabbed my mobile back from me and started going through my pictures and texts. She found a picture of John and Sherlock sitting together in 221b and smiled.

 “When did you take this?” She asked.

 “Today.” I replied quietly. She sat up and looked at me intently.

 “Okay, tell me everything!” She commanded eagerly. I told her, not sparing any detail, including the drunken John. We finally fell asleep discussing Mycroft and Sherlock’s hair, and what their parents look like.

 In the morning, Jasmine was gone and so was my phone. I moaned and sat up, rubbing my forehead. I showered and went into the kitchen.

(I wore a white button-down and changed into black skinny jeans. I left my hair down again and wore no makeup.) 

My parents, Jasmine, Damien and Emma were all eating breakfast at our gigantic table. I sighed and sat by Damien with a piece of banana bread. He smiled kindly at me and continued eating. Emma looked at me knowingly and I looked down. Jasmine smirked at me.

 “Alice.” My father said sternly. I winced.

 “Dad, I am a full-grown woman. I can do what I please.” I said back, sighing angrily. He looked at me, confused.

 “Pardon?” He asked. I realized that he wasn’t going to scold me.

 “Eh... Nothing. Forget it.” I dismissed, finishing my bread.

 “That aside, your mother and I would like you to attend a celebration that Mr. Holmes has arranged for his and our families. You are permitted to bring a plus one if you dress properly.” He continued. I assumed I looked horrified.

 “With the Holmes’!?” I exclaimed. Everyone but Jasmine and Emma looked at me like I was mad.

 “Yes! Mycroft Holmes has helped our family for many years and he has invited us! All of us are attending!” He announced, his voice growing.

 “Is his brother going to be there?” I tested.

 “I would assume so.” He added.

 “Then no. I am not going.” I said stubbornly, folding my arms. Emma and Jasmine snickered.

 “You are going if we have to bring you in handcuffs!” Dad boomed, beginning so stand up. I glared at him and got up, taking my phone from Jasmine and storming out. He ranted to the rest of my family loudly as I ran up to my room. Lucy, the maid, saw me as I got to the top.

 “Miss? I will announce that you are sick so you don’t have to go... if you would like.” She said quietly. I smiled softly at her.

 “No. I don’t want you getting fired.” I said, going into my room.

 “Come to Baker Street! There was an explosion!” John had sent. It was ten minutes ago. My eyes bugged and I ran out, grabbing my weapon and flinging my coat on as I ran out the door. I didn’t bother getting a cab; it would be faster for me to run.

 I got there, seeing the apartments across the street had an explosion. I ran up to 221b and burst into Sherlock and his brother, glaring at each other, seemingly unaffected. The windows were boarded up. They looked up at me, Sherlock plucking at his violin. I noticed he was wearing a purple button-down. I pointed out the window.

 “John told me.” I said simply, dropping my arm.

 “Hello Alice.” Mycroft said pleasantly. I nodded at him and glared at Sherlock, who smirked at me. Mycroft looked between us and seemed pleased.  John burst in behind me, calling, “Sherlock. Sherlock!” as he came up the stairs.

 “John.” Sherlock acknowledged slowly.

 “I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?” John asked, looking at Sherlock.

 “Hmm? What?” Sherlock looked at him absently and then he looked around at the mess of broken glass and scattered paperwork as if he has forgotten it – which he probably had. “Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently.” He explained. He turned his attention back to Mycroft, who looked annoyed at the plucking on the violin.

“I can’t.” Sherlock said.

“’Can’t’?” Mycroft asked.

“The stuff I’ve got on is just too big. I can’t spare the time.” Sherlock insisted. John looked at them in disbelief.

“Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance.” Mycroft argued. Sherlock sulkily flicked his fingers across the strings.

 “How’s the diet?” He asked knowingly. Mycroft refused to reply to the implied insult and said, looking to John,

 “Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him, John.” John, who had walked nearer to the windows to investigate the damage after he greeted me, asked,

 “What?”

“I’m afraid my brother can be very intransigent.” Mycroft said.

“If you’re so keen, why don’t you investigate it?” Sherlock offered.

“No-no-no-no-no. I can’t possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so ...” Mycroft trailed off. John turned towards him in surprise and Sherlock raises his head from looking at his violin. I smirked, not just at the conversation, but at the comment Mycroft just let slip.

“Well, you don’t need to know about that, do you?” He smiled humorlessly in a clear message to forget what he just said. He didn’t seem to give me that look, so I stored that bit of information away.

 “Besides, a case like this – it requires...” He grimaced in distaste. “... Legwork.” Sherlock mis-plucked one of his strings, an irritated look on his face. He turned to John, who is absently rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and looking helplessly at me.

 “How’s Sarah, John? How was the lilo?” Sherlock asked, looking at his doctor. I smiled.

 Mycroft consulted his pocket watch, and not even looking at John, corrected,

 “Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa.” Sherlock and I briefly looked John up and down.

“Oh yes, of course.” I said. John looked at me incredulously and Sherlock looked at me angrily, upset that I had taken what he was going to say. Mycroft and I smiled.

 “How...? Oh, never mind.” John said, defeated. He sat down on the coffee table and Mycroft smiled across from him.

“Sherlock’s business seems to be booming since you and he became ... pals.”  He said knowingly, also glancing at me quickly. I scowled. Sherlock threw his brother a dark look.

“What’s he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine.” Mycroft asked John.

“I’m never bored.” John bargained. Mycroft smiled condescendingly.

“Good! That’s good, isn’t it?” He replied.

 Again, Sherlock glared at him. Mycroft stood up as Sherlock picked up his bow and whipped one end through the air in front of him. Picking up a folder which he had put on the table beside him, Mycroft stepped forward and offered the folder to his brother but Sherlock just looked back at him stubbornly. Grimacing and poking his tongue into the corner of his mouth, Mycroft turned and offered the folder to John instead. I moved behind John.

“Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends.” Mycroft started. John, looking startled, took the folder.

 “He was a civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in.” He continued.

“Jumped in front of a train?” John asked.

“Seems the logical assumption.” Mycroft shrugged. John quirked a quick smile.

“But...?”  He trailed.

 “’But’?” Mycroft said, cocking his head a bit.

“Well, you wouldn’t be here if it was just an accident.” John reasoned. Sherlock, who was now applying rosin to the bow with a small cloth, smirked noisily. I noticed and did the same, but Mycroft noticed.

“The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defense system – the Bruce-Partington Programme, it’s called.” He said while looking at Sherlock as John began flipping through the folder with me reading over his shoulder.

“The plans for it were on a memory stick.” Mycroft said. John sniggered quietly.

“That wasn’t very clever.” He chuckled. Sherlock and I smiled in agreement.

“It’s not the only copy.” Mycroft said to John, but looking at me.

“Oh.” John said quietly.

“But it is secret. And missing.” Mycroft added.

“Top secret?” John asked. I sighed. He was asking boring questions. The Holmes’ noticed my slight frustration.

“Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can’t possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands.” Mycroft said seriously, turning to Sherlock.

 “You’ve got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don’t make me order you.” Mycroft warned. Breathing in sharply through his nose, Sherlock raised his violin to his shoulder, ready to play. He looked calmly at his brother.

“I’d like to see you try.” Sherlock and I said at the same time. We were amused. Mycroft leaned down to his brother a little in an attempt to look more threatening. I was more amused.

 “Think it over.” He said. Sherlock stared back at him, unimpressed. Mycroft turned and walked over to John, offering him his hand to shake.

 “Goodbye, John.” He said.  Politely, John stood as he shook his hand. Mycroft smiled at him creepily.

“See you very soon.” He said mysteriously. John tried not to look nervous. As Mycroft headed back towards the chair to pick up his coat, Sherlock began to repeatedly play a short irritating sequence of notes. I smiled. John frowned across to him but Sherlock continued to play until Mycroft had left the room and was on the stairs. Grimacing in the direction of his brother’s back, Sherlock finished his playing and lowered the violin, still looking annoyed. John sat back down on the coffee table and waited until Mycroft had reached the ground floor and was out of earshot before he asked,

 “Why’d you lie?” Sherlock looked across to him as the front door banged shut. “You’ve got nothing on – not a single case. That’s why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?” John continued. I quickly took Mycroft’s seat and waited for John to realize what was going on. I folded my arms happily.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Sherlock shrugged, avoiding my eye.

“Oh!” John exclaimed sarcastically. He nodded. “Oh, I see.” Sherlock’s eyes drifted in his direction but he didn’t actually look at him.

“Sibling rivalry. Now we’re getting somewhere.” John concluded. I smiled. Sherlock turned and opened his mouth but before he could deny anything his mobile started to ring. He irritably whipped his bow down again, putting it on the seat beside him and fished his mobile out of his jacket pocket.

“Sherlock Holmes.” He answered. John smiled smugly at me and I nodded, smiling back at him. Sherlock glared at us but then began listening. He listened intently for a moment, and then his expression intensified. “Of course. How could I refuse?” He smiled, standing up and switching off the mobile as he put his violin onto the seat, he headed for the door. “Lestrade. I’ve been summoned. Coming?” He explained, looking and John and I. He smirked at me.

“If you want me to.” John said, still sitting down.

 “I have to…” I mumbled unhappily, standing up again and getting my coat.

 “Of course.” Sherlock started, picking up his coat and turning to John. “I’d be lost without my blogger.”