We were now outside of the college. The police were scattered everywhere, along with a few of paramedics. I was standing next to John, having a brief conversation about something along the lines of the taxi services these days. I glanced over to Sherlock, who was sitting on the back steps of an ambulance with an orange blanket around his shoulders as he spoke to Lestrade.

"Who do you think shot him if it wasn't Sherlock?" I asked, hands behind my back. John shrugged.

"Dunno'. I expect a man like that had a lot of enemies."

"True." I mumbled, agreeing with him. I learned that the irritating and bitchy woman I greatly disliked was called Sergeant Donovan, or so I was told. She explained to me and John the whole business with the two pills. We both stopped talking as we saw Sherlock approaching us, bundling the orange blanket up and tossing it through an open window of a police car. He ducked under the tape, walking the extra short distance towards us both.

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful." John started with a shake of his head. Sherlock looked at him for a moment.

"Good shot."

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window." John responded, trying to sound innocent and failing miserably, may I add. It was then I realised that John must have been the one who shot the killer. I widened my eyes slightly, shocked that it was him. I never expected that when I first met him, but the more you know. We couldn't all be Sherlock Holmes.

"Well, you'd know. Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case."

John cleared his throat and looked around nervously. I thought it'd be best to act like I didn't care about the matter, that John didn't do a bad thing because he didn't. The man John stopped was a murderer -- a serial killer, according to the others. "Are you okay?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Yes, of course I'm all right."

"Well, you have just killed a man." Sherlock pressed on, earning a small nod from John.

"Yes, I..." John trailed off, realising what he just said. Me and Sherlock looked at him carefully. "That's true... But he wasn't a very nice man."

"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?"

"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie."

That earned a light chortle from both me and Sherlock before we began to turn and walk away from the crime scene. Sherlock continued speaking: "That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!"

John and I giggled, and I quickly shook my head. "Guys, come on. Stop it! We can't giggle, it's a crime scene!"

Sherlock glanced at me with a warm smile, "And you and I have some catching up to do."

"We do." I nodded in agreement, "But about those two pills Donovan was telling us about..."

"Yes," John cut in, remembering what we were talking about. "You were gonna' take that damned pill, weren't you?"

"What?" I jump in, confused.

"Moments before I stopped the killer, Sherlock was about to take one of the pills."

I arch a brow, sending him a look of disapproval. "That's what was happening before I came into that room!"

"I wasn't going to take it, just biding my time. Knew you'd both turn up."

"No you didn't. It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever." John stated, a little in disbelief.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're an idiot."

Sherlock smiled. I was happy Sherlock was able to find a friend who understood him and didn't really care much about his energetic and blunt behaviour. Hopefully me and Sherlock will be able to stay friends, too. But a lot had happened over the eleven years we have been apart.

"Dinner?" He offered us, and I practically felt my stomach grumbling.

"I don't think I noticed how hungry I was until you mentioned that. I only had a few biscuits this morning, I'm starving." I said in response, all sorts of different foods floating around in my mind. Chicken, pasta, lasagna, Chinese. And those were only the main courses. Don't forget about chocolate cake.

"Same." John spoke up. Just as he did so, an expensive looking car pulled up and another tall figure got out with a brunette at his side. "Sherlock. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about." John spoke, and suddenly, I finally recognised who it was. I plastered a smile immediately. I suppose I was happy to see him after all these years, even though we were no where near as close as me and Sherlock. But I appreciate a good mind set, and that's something Mycroft definitely has.

"Mycroft!"

"Who?" John chirped in, confused to who the man was. But when I looked over at Sherlock his facial expression just proved to me that he was angry, especially as we walked closer to the older brother. I arched a brow up; the two never used to get on one-hundred percent -- what siblings did? But surely they would be getting along better now? Maybe something happened between them, I don't know. Or maybe they're still just being equally childish.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited... though that's never really your motivation, is it?" Mycroft began, his eyes darting to mine. "And I see you've found yourself another companion? You're making all kind of friends this week, Sherlock."

"Don't you remember me?" I questioned, to which he just raised his brows with curiosity.

"Am I supposed to?" He replied casually, as if it didn't matter to him. But I just shrugged, trying not to be so offended by it. I pretty much learned not to take anything to heart with what these boys did or said. And it had been years after all. Plus, he'd remember me soon enough. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he does. "But speaking of it, you do seem quite familiar. When did we last encounter?"

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked before I had a chance to respond to him.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you."

"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'."

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no!"

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer... and you know how it always upset Mummy."

John frowned when he said that, probably unsure if he heard correctly. It made sense that Sherlock hadn't mentioned him. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother, "I upset her? Me? It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft!"

"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?" John quizzed, staring at the two males with confusion.

"Mother – our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft."

John stares at the man in amazement, and I shift on my feet with a smirk pulling on my lips. "He's your brother?!"

"Of course he's my brother."

"So he's not..."

"Not what?"

"I dunno -- criminal mastermind?" John spoke quietly, shrugging in embarrassment. He grimaces from even suggesting it.

"Close enough." Sherlock said.

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"He is the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis."

Mycroft sighs, and I just roll my eyes. "Jesus, do you guys ever give yourself a break?"

"You speak as if you know us?"

"I do," I met Mycroft's eyes, slightly surprised he didn't notice earlier like Sherlock did. "It's Ella. As in Eleanor Parker."

Mycroft's eyes widened, before he looked to Sherlock and then back to me, blinking a couple of times in disbelief, "Eleanor?"

"Ah, there it is." I commented, glad he finally knew.

"When did you know of her return?" Mycroft asked directly at Sherlock, who just shrugged.

"Not that long ago, although I must put it out there that I figured out who she was straight away."

"Well..." I trailed off, ready to prove him wrong since it did take him some time to remember, but I thought it was probably better if I just didn't comment on it at all.

"Well of course you would, since you were the one that took such a big liking towards her."

At this, me and Sherlock's cheeks tinted with a light shade of pink and we looked away bashfully. I cleared my throat. "Yes, well we were close friends."

"Maybe a little closer than friends."

I was blushing furiously now. As always, embarrassing me and Sherlock gave Mycroft life. Sherlock stepped forward to quickly end the conversation. "Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic."

Sherlock walks past his brother without a goodbye, and I follow after him. I notice John is exchanging a few words with Mycroft, but I know it's nothing of importance so I carry on forward.

"So, Mycroft is still an ass then?"

"You don't know the half of it." He mumbled, putting his hands into his warm, coat pockets. John quickly catches up to us both, walking on the left side of Sherlock's.

"So: dim sum." John began, wondering if they were still planning on getting some food.

"Chinese?" I raise my brows.

"Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies." Sherlock claimed. I roll my eyes.

"No you can't."

"Almost can." He shrugged softly, then glanced at John, "You did get shot, though."

"Sorry?"

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound."

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder."

"Shoulder! I thought so." Sherlock beamed, a smile evident on his face.

"No you didn't."

"The left one."

"Lucky guess."

"I never guess."

"Yes you do." I chirped in, letting out a laugh. "Anyway, tonight has been fun and all. But I'm afraid I'll have to call it a night."

"What? Why?" Sherlock asked, seeming quite upset but he tried to hide it nonetheless. "You were pretty excited about getting food just a minute ago."

"Job hunting, apartment hunting, and then serial killer hunting. There's only so much a girl can handle. Plus I don't want to intrude." I explain. The thought of Chinese was making my mouth water, but then I remembered that I bought hardly enough money and that there's left over pizza in the fridge. "But we can meet tomorrow, if you're free?"

"Yes," Sherlock nodded, "I'm not busy. I'll write you a letter."

"No one writes letters any more, Sherlock."

"Oh, right." Sherlock paused shyly, "It's what we normally used to do, so I guess it just slipped my mind."

I gave him a sweet smile, "Just pass me your phone, I'll put my number in there."

Sherlock nodded, finally finding a solution we could both agree on. He passed me his unlocked blackberry and I quickly saved my number to his contacts before handing his phone back to him. "Okay, well... I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow." Sherlock repeated, meeting my eyes and holding the stare for a short moment. I smiled, and so did he, before I finally headed in the opposite direction away from the two men who went off to grab something to eat. It's safe to say I won't be catching a taxi home tonight.