Margo felt as if she were at an ultimate low.
A soft knock on her door.
"Yup?"
John entered her room cautiously.
"It's ok, I locked up the guard dogs. You can come in."
John sent her a tiny smile.
"Um. Marg—"
"I know, I know, you're 'sorry about that' and yadayada. I know, John."
She stands from her bed slowly, and makes her way towards him. He notes that she has changed into a thin t-shirt and no bra.
"Just another reason to kill him off, right?"
She gives him a toothy grin, showing off her set of slightly yellowing teeth. He can smell the faint musk of cigarettes and some perfume he was sure one of his ex's wore.
He chuckles softly.
She is standing very close to him.
"I feel like I came here thinking everything was going to get better."
"And it hasn't?"
She reaches out, grabbing her fingers around his wrist.
"Not in the slightest."
"Care for a drink?"
xxx
Even before entering, Sherlock knew they had company.
"—Right!? Exactly what I said! But she absolutely refused! "
John and Margo sat cozily on the couch. Sherlock noted their pink faces and loud speech immediately.
"Starting up on old habits, I see?"
Her face fell. In one swift movement, she had gotten herself up from the couch and was making her way across the room.
"Wait, Marg—"
But she wasn't leaving.
"Are you afraid of losing control, Mr. Holmes?"
He notes her wobbly legs, her hands gripped tightly onto a bottle of Fireball, and relatively see-through attire. He can see the faint outline of her breasts and the tiny mole that sits on her collarbone.
After a moment of not responding, she takes a step forward.
"I don't think you know how to have fun."
"I would not mistake self pity as fun."
She lets that comment sit for a moment.
"Let me work for you."
"No."
"Please. I'll do anything."
"No."
"Why not?"
"We've gone through this."
"If I screw this up, I'll move out."
Sherlock looks her over.
"Deal."