Calliah Mullen is the sister to Irene Adler and has always been called the ugly sibling. After hearing it for so long, Calliah believes it and cuts her self to relieve the pain. When see meets Sherlock and John, her views on the world, herself, and her sister change. Will it be for the better or worse?


6. Chapter 6

Thank you Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan on livejournal for the transcripts. They help so much.

You guys can find her transcripts at: .

Here is the next part of A Study in Pink

I own nothing, except Calliah

John and I get into the car and I see Mycroft's assistant. I smile at her as I sit. She smiles and goes back to her phone. She was always on her phone. John sits by me and smiles at the women. "Hello." John says softly.

Mycroft's assistant smiles brightly at him for a moment and then returns her attention to her phone. "Hi."

"What's your name, then?" he smiles.

"Er… Anthea." 'Anthea' says.

"Oh is it Anthea today?" I ask and she nods.

"So that isn't your real name." John guesses.

"No." She says and smiles.

John nods and looks out of the rear window briefly and then turns back. "I'm John."

"Yes. I know. And her name is Calliah." 'Anthea' says and smiles at me.

"Any point in asking where we're going?" John asks.

"None at all…" 'Anthea' asks. She turns and smiles at us and then goes back to her phone. "… John."

"Okay." John says and looks at me. I smile and pull out my phone.

Sometime later, the car pulls into an almost-empty warehouse. John and I get out of the car and see a man in a suit, standing in the center of the area and leaning nonchalantly on an umbrella. I knew who the man is but I know John wouldn't. I have known Mycroft since I moved out of Irene's house. He saved me off of the streets. I see a chair in front of him and Mycroft points at it with his umbrella. "Have a seat, John." He says.

John and I walk over. "You know, I've got a phone. And so does Calliah." He looks around the warehouse. "I mean, very clever and all that, but er… you could just phone me or Calliah. On our phones." John walks past the chair and stops a few paces away from Mycroft.

I run up to Mycroft and hug him. He freezes up. "Calliah. Back up." I pout and go by John. "When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place." The man says. He smiles softly at me and then looks stern and looks at John. "The leg must be hurting you. Sit down."

"I don't wanna sit down." John says.

"You don't seen very afraid." Mycroft says and looks at him curiously.

"You don't seen very frightening." John says. Mycroft and I chuckle.

"Ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think Calliah." Mycroft says and looks at John sternly. I nod. "What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

"I don't have one. I barely know him. I met him…" John looks away and looks surprised. "…yesterday."

"Mmm, and since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" Mycroft jokes. I laugh.

John glares at me and turns back to Mycroft. "Who are you?"

"An interested party." Mycroft says nonchalantly. I smirk at him.

"Interested in Sherlock? Why? I'm guessing you're not friends." John guesses.

"You've met him. How many 'friends' do you imagine he had? I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having." Mycroft says.

"And what's that?" John asks.

"An enemy." Mycroft says. I roll my eyes.

"An enemy?" John asks.

"In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic." Mycroft says and smirks.

"Well, thank God you're above all that." John says sarcastically and looks around the warehouse.

Mycroft frowns at him as John's phone trills a text alert. John takes out his phone and looks at it. He shows me. It says:

Baker Street.

Come at once

If convenient.


"I hope I'm not distracting you." Mycroft says.

"Not distracting me at all." John says casually. He takes his time looking up from the phone before he pockets it.

"Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?" Mycroft asks.

"I could be wrong… but I think that's none of your business." John says. I smirk. John had a backbone.

"It could be." Mycroft says ominously.

"It really couldn't." John says.

Mycroft takes a notebook out of his inside pocket, then opens it. He looks at it as he says, "If you do move into, um… two hundred and twenty-one B Baker street, I'd be happy to pay a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way." He closes the notebook and puts it away.

"Why?" John asks.

"Because you're not a wealthy man." Mycroft says.

"In exchange for what?" John asks.

"Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel… uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to." Mycroft offers.

"Why?" John asks.

"I worry about him. Constantly." Mycroft says. I smirk.

"That's nice of you." John says insincerely.

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a ... difficult relationship." Mycroft says. I laugh and Mycroft glares at me.

John's phone sounds another text alert. He gets his phone out and looks at it. He shows me his phone again. It says:

If inconvenient,

Come anyways.


I laugh. Only Sherlock would do that. "No." John says to Mycroft's offer.

"But I haven't mentioned a figure." Mycroft says and frowns.

"Don't bother." John says as he puts away his phone.

Mycroft laughs briefly. "You're very loyal, very quickly."

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested." John says.

Mycroft looks at John closely for a moment and then takes out his notebook and opens it. "'Trust issues,' it says here." He says and gestures to the notebook to make it clear that he was reading a note from the book. I notice that John was becoming unnerved.

"What's that?" John asked.

"Could it be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?" Mycroft asks, still looking at his book.

"Who says I trust him?" John asks.

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily." Mycroft says.

"Are we done?" John asks.

Mycroft raises his head and looks into John's eyes. "You tell me." John looks at him for a long moment, then turns his back and starts walking to the car. "I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen." Mycroft says to John.

John stops dead. His shoulders tense and drop and he angrily shakes his head a little. He is clearly furious as he turns back around to face the man. "My what?" John asks savagely and through his bared teeth.

"Show me." Mycroft asks calmly.

He has nodded towards John's left hand as he speaks, and now he plants the tip of his umbrella on the floor and leans casually on it like a man who is used to having his orders obeyed. John, however, is not going to be intimidated and deliberately shifts his feet under him as if digging in. He raises his left hand, bending it at the elbow, and stands still. His message is clear: if the man wants to look at his hand, he'll have to come to him. I laugh at Mycroft. I knew how he worked. Apparently unperturbed by this belligerence, the man strolls forward, hooking the handle of the umbrella over his arm as he reaches for John's hand. John instantly pulls his hand back a little.

"Don't." John says tensely.

Mycroft lowers his head and raises his eyebrows at John, almost as if saying, 'Did I mention trust issues?!' John very reluctantly lowers his hand, holding it out flat with the palm down. The man takes it in both of his own hands and looks at it closely.

"Remarkable." Mycroft says.

John takes back his hand. "What is?"

Mycroft turns and walks a few paces away. "Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield." He says and turns towards John again. "You've seen it already, haven't you?"

"What's wrong with my hand?" John asks.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand." Mycroft says. John nods his head. "Your therapist thinks it's post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service."

I see John almost flinching. His gaze is fixed ahead of him and a muscle in his cheek twitches repeated. "Who the hell are you? How do you know that?" John says angry and distressed.

"Fire her. She's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady." Mycroft says. "You're not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson ... you miss it." He leans in closer and John's eyes rise up to meet his. "Welcome back." He whispers. He turns and starts to walk away just as John's phone trills another text alert. "Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson." Mycroft says and casually twirling his umbrella as he goes.

I see Mycroft motioning me to follow him. I smile softly at John and follow. He gets into his car and I follow.

Hope you all liked the chapter. I will post the next one later today.


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