She re-enters 221 Baker Street hours later. She feels vaguely relieved; something about spending a lot of money brought a sense of serene bliss over her. She was aware of the repercussions of retail therapy, but at this moment in time, she needed to remove herself from…well, herself.
After entering the 221, she decides to show off to the boys her new look. She places her ear gently against Sherlock and John's apartment. Not a sound. Purely out of temptation, she fiddles with the handle. It's unlocked. Odd. She inhales briefly, and then enters.
Half-expecting Sherlock to spring out from behind the couch she stands in the doorway in silence, dropping her shopping bags and preparing her body into an odd imitation of what karate might look like.
"Hello?" She calls out, dropping the pose to tug gently at her new black toque that covered her new haircut. She enjoyed the feeling of her shaved undercut in her hands, especially outdoors. An exciting cool breeze was licking at her neck. She had never experienced this sensation with longer hair.
She realizes the apartment is officially empty. She also realizes she may appear to look crazy.
Her eyes take in the room. She feels a sense of guilt in her stomach. She tries to soothe these thoughts by recalling the amount of times John had burst into her room. Not to mention caught her jacking off her jill. For all she knew John very well entered her apartment daily to take a wank in her room. In fact, he could consider this payback. Right? Right.
She still cannot bring herself to move from the doorway. However, that silent urge daring her to take another step was growing stronger with every passing second. This was an opportunity to seek revenge. Not on John (though perhaps if he did masturbate in her room on the daily, now was the time), but on Sherlock! That is, if she chose to take this opportunity. If she could muster the strength to enter Sherlock's room and "look around" maybe, just maybe she co-
"You're not a very good burglar, are you?"
Margo nearly jumps out of her skin. She spins around at an unfamiliarly heightened speed, hand raised. Much to her surprise her hand strikes the face of the very Devil she spoke/thought of just moments ago.
"But I must admit, you do have fast reflexes." He brushes his fingers lightly against the faint pink colouring that was collecting on his face.
She realizes that this was perhaps the first compliment he had given to her since her arrival a few months ago. Of course he would compliment her on her ability to hit him in the face.
"Shit. I am…Jesus, I didn't even know I could do that. I'm sorry." She reaches forward to touch her work.
He swats her hand aside, and steps around her, making his way to sit on his favourite armchair.
"No need. You were simply reacting."
"Here, let me get you some ice."
"That will not be necess—"
"-Just shut up and let me be nice, will you?"
She strides over to the refrigerator, opening the door with enthusiasm and observing the inside. She shuts it and turns around to look over at the Detective.
"Why am I not even surprised?"
He gives her a look as If to say, "I warned you".
"I didn't realize you were partial to ears in your salad." She mocks benignly.
His mouth folds upwards into what might appear to be something strangely similar to a smile. Margo's world could have ended right then and there. The Sherlock Holmes was smiling at something she said. Something wasn't right. She questioned whether or not him and John shagged since she had left. Doubtful. John had better taste than that.
"Did you just…" She begins to formulate a sentence, in which quickly derails into her flushing.
John reenters the apartment, grocery bags in hand.
"What's with all the shopping bags?"
For a moment she has completely forgotten about her original intention for visiting her neighbours. With great excitement, Margo bounds out from the kitchen, throwing her hat off of her head and revealing her new haircut.
"Wow."
John's eyes are the size of saucers. He drops the grocery bags in shock. Margo can feel her stomach practically exploding with excitement; she begins to make jazz hands in a sad attempt to be humorous.
"It's so red!"
She grins in response.
"It's so short!"
"Yup!" She smiles flipping what very little hair was not shaven off of her head.
"Oh. GOD."
Margo's hands drop to her side. She scrunches up her face.
"I'm guessing you don't like it?"
"John dislikes girls that fall under the alternative category."
"Sherlock, that is not true! " He turns his eyes back to her, searching for the right words. "It's just…different."
"It's Billy Walsh!" She spins around excitedly. "Well, at least the very beginnings of her. I thought since we only had a few more days until the awards night that I should get into character."
"I mean, you do look very…"
"Chic? The film world is pretty artsy, John, gotta get in there. Gotta work dat. Gotta live dat life. Gotta shake dat…Ok, I'm done. "
John opens and closes his mouth a few times in rebuttal, but instead ends up picking up the grocery bags and heading to the kitchen in silence.
"Dearest Margaret, what has become of you? With your new red hair has come an uncontrollable ball of energy in which your favourite flat mate is not able to handle at this moment, as he already has another child to deal with. Yours truly, Doctor John Watson."
"Dearest Doctor, It appears that the knowledge of meeting celebrities and engaging with an outrageous amount of talented people has set my brain hardrive off. In fact—"
"Brains aren't anything near the mechanics of a harddri—"
"—Shut up, Sherlock. As I was saying, Dearest Doctor, please forgive me, as you are the only person's company I enjoy in 221B and your approval is much needed. Love, Queen Margaret."
The two send each other wide grins.
"What do you think, Sherlock?" Margo asks, turning to the consulting detective who was examining his freshly scarlet cheek in the reflection of the dusty window.
"Oh, so now you want my opinion?" He replies huffily, crossing his legs in an grandiose fashion.
"Yes. "
"You stiffed her on the tip."
"Excuse me?"
"You could've been a little more generous with the tip."
Margo stands there in silence. She can feel that twisting anger residing in her stomach once more.
"We're you following me?"
He remains silent. She can feel her face burning with embarrassment.
"Were you!?"
He picks up the violin that rests beside him and begins to play.
"Screw you." In one swift motion Margo grabs her shopping bags and exits the apartment.
xXx
"Ok, ok, I hear you, wait a second!"
Margo swings open her door, dressed in nothing but a towel. Her face is extremely flushed, and her newly dyed hair is matted against her forward. She shifts uncomfortably, readjusting her breasts behind the cloth.
"What's up?" She huffs, flipping her hair out of her eyes,
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your…shower?" John looks her up and down for a moment.
"It's cool, I wasn't showering. What did you need?"
John blinks, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"Naked yoga. It's cool."
Now John furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
"Excellent pastime, Margie. "
"Says the guy who solves crimes."
"Exactly." He smiles at her, avoiding all eye contact with her breasts. To the best of his ability, that is. "Sherlock wants to know if—"
"—I'd have dinner with him? The answer is no." She cheekily pokes her tongue out of her mouth.
"Doubt it. Not to mention his table manners are horrendous, you wouldn't like it."
"Well?"
"He wants to know if you can help us learn film stuff."
Margo practically drops her towel in excitement.
"The Sherlock Holmes needs help!?" Margo releases a mad cackle. John appears to not be as pleased. "Oh, oh, this is splendid! Stupendous! Splendiferous! Phantasmagorical! Not only did I manage to slap him today but I also manage to HUMILIATE him. Lordly Lou, I'm going to write this down as the day that 'THE SHERLOCK FUCKING HOLMES NEEDED MY HELP' and then I'm going to print it professionally. Fuck it, I'll print it twice! One for you and one for m—Wait, no, I'll hang one at the front of the flat, and one in my room, and I'll even tattoo a copy of it on my as—"
"-Is that a yes?"
Margo pauses for a moment.
"Tell him I'll think about it."
With that, Margo shuts the door in the face of her terribly confused flat mate.