"I presume you can manage for a few days?" Mycroft Holmes asked the ginger woman who was currently distracted by the reports on his desk. "I must have misheard you; surely you weren't suggesting me staying with him?" Fiona snapped back to reality hoping she was mistaken. "You heard me quite clearly" Mycroft confirmed with a smug look on his face. "No no no we've been through this; we don't acknowledge each other's existence. I'll have to stay here, lock myself in the library or something." She refused profoundly at just the thought of such a thing. "Fiona Colette Holmes you will go and stay with Sherlock until you are fit to return to that little project of yours. Do I make myself clear?" he threatened tired with the dispute. "I'm a grown woman Mycroft and you are not my father." She yelled, her broad Scottish accent highlighting every word and she stormed off to collect her things. Mycroft sighed at the departing figure but his attention soon turned to another problem, how to break the news to Sherlock.
Fiona had packed up her single bag and was soon in a cab heading towards Baker Street. She hadn't bothered to contact Sherlock because he would neither read nor reply to her, instead she spent the time planning just exactly the quickest and most efficient means of ending her visit. By the time the cab pulled up on Baker Street Mycroft had already forwarded the address, facing 221b she sighed at the simplicity of the lock. She pulled out a small silver tool and made short work of the door before venturing silently inside. She climbed the stairs and entered a room covered with mess, on the mantelpiece sat Sherlock precious skull. Purely for her amusement Fiona moved the skull about a millimetre to the right and smiled, she could already see Sherlock searching the entire flat to try and find the adjustment. Looking at her watch Fiona decided to grab a shower before the residents returned.
It was 4:30 in the morning when Sherlock and John returned to 221b Baker Street, they tried to stay quiet for the sake of poor Mrs. Hudson but Fiona heard them coming up the stairs. Sherlock walked over to his laptop and rested his hand on top of it before surveying the flat. "There's something in our flat" he said gravely comparing the flat with a mental image of it before he had left. "Don't you mean someone?" John asked staying out of the detective's way. Suddenly he pounced on the skull and moved it back to its original position. "Seriously you were bothered because Mrs. Hudson moved your skull while she was dusting?" John said laughing again "It wasn't Mrs. Hudson it was a certain somebody from my past." Sherlock said picking up his gun. "Why do you need that?" John asked picking up his own weapon, "The composer is possibly the best thief in Britain, highly trained in hand to hand combat, firearms and many other methods of disabling a person. The composer is no idiot; on par with me I suppose..." he was cut off by a quiet laugh from the bathroom "and currently hiding in our shower". Fiona laughed again as she grabbed a towel and wrapped it round herself before opening the bathroom door to face the two men. "Morning Col!"
