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Mary stayed sitting even though Frankie stood. She wasn’t as easily moved to physical reactions as her sister was. She suppressed the urge to speak over her, instead letting her finish. Mary shook her head, realization dawning on her and she covered her face with her hands.
“Oh Frankie,” her anger abruptly evaporated, leaving behind the ill feeling that she was getting all to used to experiencing lately. “John knew Sherlock. They were friends; they worked Sherlock’s cases together. John wrote the blog about Sherlock, surely you’ve heard of it?” She paused to let her words sink in to their full effect, “And now Sherlock is apparently back from the dead. John… isn’t taking the news well.”
Slowly, it dawned upon her. Of course, Frankie remembered when Sherlock Holmes had been in his prime all that time ago. On the front of every paper, singing his praises until the ‘suicide’ and, ultimately, the truth came to light. In the pictures beside him, there was always this little man that Frankie never properly looked at. But all these years later, she never would have guessed.
“God, Mary.” She sighed, shaking her head as though Mary had just done something monumentally stupid. “You married the blogger? Sherlock Holmes’ blogger?”
With that came a lesser aftershock. The way the papers printed it, ‘confirmed bachelor’, she thought that he had been .. less inclined towards women.