It always seemed to start with the same phrase when John Watson came to Sherlock Holmes, the same two words when he came looking for help or something else ridiculous. This time in particular, like any other occasion was no different, or so it seemed.

"Uhh, Sherlock?" John's voice sounded from the doorway.

Standing by the window with his back to the door, Sherlock's head immediately snapped up at the stuttered sentence, his eyes wide and emotionless. "What is it, John?" His deep baritone voice filling the cluttered living room.

"So uhh, my niece is coming to visit for the next week while she's out on school break, but Mary and I don't have any room at our flat." John explained.

"So?" Sherlock said bluntly as he continued to look out the window down to Baker Street. With his back turned he could almost literally feel John's stare burn holes in his back. It was silent for a moment however, causing Sherlock to turn and look at John, who seemed as though he were in a trance, staring into space. He was looking at Sherlock, but his eyes were glazed over. "John?" The consulting detective called to his friend.

John blinked, his body flinching as he came back to reality. Shaking his head, John rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah, sorry about that." Finally, looking up at Sherlock, he squinted his eyes. "I was just wondering if she could stay here with you, in my old room."

This made Sherlock look at John oddly, and it was silent in the room as the two men stared at each other, gauging the others reaction before the silence was broken. "Are you trying to set me up with your niece?"

At that question, John's face lit up in unbelievable shock. "No! Absolutely not! She's twenty-one for Christ's sake, Sherlock!" He sputtered in surprise. "I was just wondering if could sleep here while she visits."

"Oh." Sherlock said, taking a step back in realisation.

"Yeah." John nodded.

There were a couple beats of silence before Sherlock spoke. "What's she like?" He asked thoughtfully.

"She's quiet." John relented, putting his hands in his pockets as he stared at the floor.

"Right..." Sherlock sighed, looking up to the ceiling. It was quiet once again before the next question bubbled up. "Was she at the wedding?"

"Uhh, no." John admitted. "Harry didn't come, and Jenna had finals."

"Jenna?"

"Yeah, that's her name."

"Of course it is." Sherlock rolled his eyes. After much, but quick, deliberation, he came to a decision. "Fine. If she can stand living with someone such as myself for seven days and not get in the way, by all means." He said, picking up his violin and plucking at the strings. "Let her stay."

As Sherlock began to play his violin, John watched him peculiarly before shaking his head with a determined and confused look on his face. "Uhh, right then." His hands balled into fists for a moment before unfurling. "O-kay, I'm going to talk to Mrs. Hudson, check to see if it's alright." He announced, but still Sherlock did not reply. Turning on his heel, John left the room and made his way downstairs. "Good night, Sherlock!" He called on his way down.

It was hours later after the sun had set and John was long gone did Sherlock speak again. "When does she come to London, John?" He said, playing the last note on his violin. When he gained no reply, he looked up and around the room in confusion. "John?"

A/N: This is my first Sherlock fanfiction, but the second piece for the show that I've written. People I've talked to have liked this idea, so we'll see how this goes. Follow me or this story to get the updates, and I now have a Facebook page for my fanfiction account. There I'll be posting spoilers and such, so keep an eye on it if you're interested. Thanks for reading and please comment!