The car dropped them off at home. Mycroft stayed only long enough to talk to security before getting back into the car and rushing away. As he left, Walter came up from the basement and situated himself next to the front door. Maddy went upstairs and changed out of her dress and into a comfortable shirt and trousers. She paced through the hallways rubbing her neck, unable to sleep.

Her phone kept ringing. First it was Mrs. Jones, then Katy, then Ann. They had all known where she was going and they had seen the fire on the news. She assured them that she was quite alright. She bumped into Mr. Tennison in the kitchen when she was getting herself a cup of cocoa. He told her that she could find a television in the security room, so she pattered down the stairs and knocked on the door. There were three guards inside today not counting Walter at the door. The television was showing a blazing building. The flames reflected on the river and streams of water soared in arcs that somehow seemed too small to have an effect on the conflagration.

Little bits of red-backed text flashed across the screen:

Homeless shelter ablaze.

Fifteen found dead in riverside fire.

Accident or act of terrorism?

Maddy turned away. She left the room and walked down the hall finding Sherlock's lab. The concrete walls and stained table seemed comfortingly real to her after today which felt like walking in a dream. She found the metal bunk in the corner and lay down upon it. She rolled over and on the ceiling she saw scratched the chalk image of a skull.

Was this what Sherlock thought of when he organized his mind palace in the morning? Maddy turned on her side and fell asleep. She woke to the touch of a hand on her arm. Turning, she saw Mycroft's concerned face. He was sitting on the edge of the bunk still in his clothes from last night. Maddy sat up and hugged him.

"Madeline, how are you? I didn't get a chance to talk to you last night," he said.

"I'm fine," Maddy said digging her head into his shoulder.

"I am sorry to inform you that Mrs Woese is dead." Mycroft said, "at last count, it was seventeen dead, thirty-five injured. There may be more, but many of the homeless fled the scene before the authorities arrived. "

"What about Subramanian?" Maddy asked.

"We are hot on his trail." Mycroft said, "My people are working around the clock. We will prove that he was the one responsible for this action."

"Then what?"

"Then we will see that justice is served," Mycroft said his face becoming positively scary as his frown lengthened. "I would like for you to remain at home for the next few days for your safety. Subramanian is becoming desperate, and desperate men are prone to lashing out."

"Don't worry," Maddy said, "I don't even have plans to leave this room. I've been kidnapped before, remember?"

Mycroft made the ghost of a smile that vanished almost before she saw it. "I remember," he said kissing her distractedly before rising to shower, change, and go back to work.

Maddy lay back down on the bunk. From then on she lived in the basement in Sherlock's room. Seven days she stayed there. She would go upstairs to cook and eat in the kitchen, working on technique with Mrs. Jones. The security detail changed everyday making it difficult to plan the amount of food to make. They came in with the mutter of walky-talky chatter and would leave suddenly in a group without saying why.

Katy was flustered by all the fuss. "Do you know that they searched my bag when I came in today?" She said, "this is getting out of hand."

"Don't worry," Mrs Jones said calmly, "these alerts never last that long. Before you know it Mr. Mycroft will have found those responsible and everything will be back to normal."

Then the phone rang and Mrs. Winslow came in from her office next door. She turned and said, "Mr. Holmes is coming home for tea."

Maddy ran out of the kitchen. She stood in the hallway waiting until the door finally opened. Mycroft looked tired. He walked in nodding at her as he passed to go to his room. Maddy followed. She sat on his bed and waited. He came out and dressed in the navy suit that he reserved for home use. "You are not going out again?" Maddy asked.

"Not for some time, no." Mycroft said, "We have him, but things are never as easy as showing the facts, even if they are irrefutable."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"We have proven that it was indeed Subramanian who was responsible for the bombing of the homeless shelter, but he is too well-connected. He will not be tried by an English court. Also, those wronged were of no consequence, so there is not much demand for justice."

Mycroft sat beside her on the bed. "I'm sorry Mycroft," she said, "I know this meant so much to you."

"I would think that it would mean something to you as well," he said, "your friend and possibly others that you know were murdered. Don't you want revenge?"

"What's the point in revenge?" she said, "It never brings anyone back from the dead."

"But it can keep those responsible from threatening the living," he replied stroking her face with his hand, "Subramanian is a persistent man. How am I to keep you safe, my treasure. Shall I lock you up in a pumpkin like Peter?"

Maddy remembered the poem:

"Peter, Peter pumpkin eater,

had a wife and couldn't keep her,

put her in a pumpkin shell,

and there he kept her very well.

"That doesn't sound very good Mycroft. I don't want to be kept a prisoner. I want freedom."

"Security is better." Mycroft said kissing the side of her neck. Mycroft pushed Maddy down onto the bed pinning her wrists so that she couldn't move. "I may hold you still, but in exchange I will give you everything." He lowered his face to hers, his nose stroking the side of her cheek, "do you want your freedom now?" Maddy could feel Mycroft's coat buttons pressing against her abdomen. His breath was warm with desire. She closed her eyes and sighed. "I tried to protect Sherlock and failed dismally. I won't fail with you, Madeline."

He kissed her neck and for a moment she considered it. It wasn't very much different than her life was now. So what if she never went out alone. Did that really matter? When Maddy was on the streets, she was truly free: free to fail, free to starve, free to die. Was that life so much better? "Mycroft. Let me go," she said.

Mycroft stopped, lifting himself up to look at her, then he rolled off of her and sat up. He leaned against the post of the canopy bed. "Madeline," he said, "I don't know what I would do if you were hurt."

"Don't worry, Mycroft," she said, "until this thing with Subramanian is resolved, I will go or stay as you tell me. Let's eat lunch, we made Baba ghanoush. One of the security guards is from Jordan." That evening, the two of them stayed no more than an arms length apart from each other.

They fell into the old routine again. Waking in his bed each morning and saying goodbye at the door. Maddy stayed at home, but she continued cooking. On Thursday, they had a party. Her apprenticeship hours were finished and she was officially admitted into the cooking school. Maddy hoped that the crisis would be over before the new term began.

As she went to her room to dress for dinner, Mycroft called.

"Subramanian is being deported tonight. I will go personally to see that he gets on the boat."

"Take me with you," Maddy said, "I need to see this too."

The sound of a horn blared in the cold evening as Subramanian's boat prepared to sail. Mycroft and Maddy stood side by side arms touching through their thick black coats as they watched.

A car pulled up and he disembarked, the man with the face like a barracuda. He walked past them turning to have a last talk with Mycroft. "So, you have won this round, but I have learned something as well. I have learned the soft spot of Mycroft Holmes. Do not think that I will ever forget it. And you, Maddy." He said the word with a leer, "I look forward to seeing you again." He looked her up and down and smiled that smile that showed the points of his teeth before turning away.

Mycroft was standing very still in the way that he does when great calculations were passing through his brain and he had no time to respond to his body. The boat set sail. Subramanian leaned against the railing looking back at them. Maddy could feel his eyes on her as it pulled away. His evil intent was as palpable as the evening fog, just beginning to form in wisps under the stern of the boat. A security man with a headset on leaned over to Mycroft.

"Sir," he said, "he is in position and we have a clear shot. What is your order?"

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. If possible, he stood even more still, then he said, "Do it!"

A sound rang out, and Subramanian fell back onto the boat which continued to sail away. Maddy stepped forward looking as the people crowded around the body. She looked up just catching some movement in the building behind her, then she faced Mycroft. The edge of one lip was turned up in a smile. He glanced at her, but she turned away from him returning with shuddering steps to the car.