It was six am: John's least favourite time. And he'd been woken up. Things could be about to get nasty...
"SHERLOCK?!" He yelled, pulling on his dressing gown and heading up to the living room.
"Oh, John, hi. Is something fun happening? I doubt it. Shame..." And with that, he picked up the blasted violin that had awoken John in the first place and began to play.
"Sherlock whatever-your-middle-name-is Holmes, will you stop that! IT IS SIX AM! Can you not just go to sleep?!" John shook his head furiously, storming to the top of the stairs, before turning around and walking back to the couch as the tune restarted. He sighed;there was no point fighting if Sherlock had won. Again. Would that man ever let him have his way just for once?
"Juliette needs picking up from the station at twelve-thirty." Sherlock said, not moving from his position facing the window. John put his head in his hands: "Okay, okay. Two things. One, who is Juliette? Two, are you actually asking me to go and pick her up? Ooh, one more question. What is your middle name?"
"As I am surprised you didn't guess, Juliette happens to be Mrs Hudson's granddaughter. And no, I wasn't asking you, I was telling you."
"Right. Well, in that case, I'm disobeying your 'orders'," He created the inverted commas with his hands, "oh, and you still haven't told me your middle name." Sherlock turned to face him.
"If you obey my orders, I shan't play my tunes before nine ever again. Now, as I was saying, Juliette needs picking up from the station at twelve-thirty. Oh, and I'll tell you my middle name when I think you need know it." John slapped down onto the cushions, beaten once again.
"Fine, fine. But if you dare break that deal, I swear I will never do anything for you again! And I mean that, Sherlock!" He shouted, watching, waiting, hoping for some sort of answer. But, of course, none came.
It was twelve twenty-seven when John pulled up to the station car park, his eyes searching for a 'Juliette Hudson'. Sherlock had told him some background information that he'd picked up; John could tell he just wanted to show off, however. Apparently, she was tall with dark hair, blue eyes and aged thirteen and he hadn't been told any of these things before, nor had he ever seen her in real life. Of course, he'd then insisted on explaining it, which was annoying, but John had expected it.
"So...are you going to tell me how you got that?" John asked.
"Well, Mrs Hudson was talking about her to me. She said 'Ooh, she looks just like her mother.' Her mother is Mrs Hudson's daughter, of whom there is a photograph. Juliette's mother has glossy, dark hair and bright blue eyes and her father also had brown hair and blue eyes, meaning she is highly likely to inherit them too, what with genetics probabilities and all. She's thirteen because last year, I saw Mrs Hudson when she was a witness for one of my cases. She was late for her court session because she was buying Juliette her twelfth birthday present. And, seeing as that was on the fifteenth of May and today is the twentieth of July, her thirteenth birthday will have passed."
"I think I've run out of words for this now." John said, shaking his head in wonder.
Anyway, John kept his eye out for the girl. Walking through the doors, he felt the breeze dissipate. A lonely coffee machine stood a few paces away, no-one ordering from it, no-one taking drinks away. The whole place felt a bit sad; who took a train at lunchtime anyway? Despite not even being thirsty or cold, John decided to purchase a coffee. Just to pass the time, he supposed.
Strolling casually to the machine, he let his mind wander. Of course, it landed on Sherlock, but, well, John was pretty used to that. It wasn't that he liked Sherlock, it was just that he was extremely unusual, making him an exciting topic to think about. Every day, it seemed, Sherlock surprised him again. Maybe he would make a kind comment on something and John would feel strangely proud inside, both from the compliment and from the fact that Sherlock was becoming ever more wonderfully human. Because, John had to face it, Sherlock had an unreal, almost-alien way of not caring about anything.
Ten minutes later, John gave up at the coffee machine, after screaming curses of the Devil at it when it switched off somehow. Technology was not John's passion, for this reason in particular. The only electronics he liked were TVs, laptops and phones; anything other that that and he was completely baffled by it.
He sat down on a cold bench, waiting, staring at the timings board. Finally, a skinny girl with thick dark hair and cool blue eyes passed the barriers. John stood up and walked over to her.
"You Juliette Hudson?" The girl looked up, slightly alarmed, then smiled in relief and nodded.
"Are you Sherlock Holmes?" She asked, innocently. John laughed: "No, love, I'm John Watson, his assistant. But I'm still here to collect you, so just follow me to the car." Juliette nodded again and, dragging a red suitcase behind her, followed John out into the car park.
"So, you're coming to stay with us?" John asked as they got in.
"Looks like it! Well, it's nice to meet you, John Watson." He grinned at her, admiring her confidence and people skills.
"Nice to meet you too, Juliette Hudson.