Samara wasn't used to having people over; in all her 27 years of living, she'd never got the hang of being a host or even maintaining small talk, so it was stressful to have her neighbors over so early in the morning for no apparent reason.

When she returned from the kitchen with a small tray of tuna sandwiches and tea, her phone was already on its fifth ring. Sherlock took a quick glance at it before focusing back on the woman steadily place the tray down while John awkwardly coughed.

"You're not going to answer that?" He asked when she sat down, phone to her left. Strange, didn't she have it in the center of her coffee table?

Picking up the Samsung model phone, Samara stared blankly at the familiar number before pressing decline. "Telemarketer."

"It was a San Antonio number," Sherlock pointed out, reaching for his cup of tea, glancing at the brown-haired girl with a piercing analytical stare.

Ignoring the stare, Samara reached for a sandwich and handed it off to Alecto, the beast of a dog chomping away at the delicacy. Petting her friend, the American answered, "If it's important, they can leave a message."

Just as she said that her phone vibrated, the screen lighting up and showing that someone left a voicemail.

Flipping the device upside down, she straightened up. "Anyways… What are you guys doing here, don't you have a baby to take care of?" She often heard that child crying once and a while, but the wails of a disgruntled child were starting to have become even more frequent as of late; maybe she was going into her terrible two's or something, she's never seen the kid. Should she congratulate them on that, or was that weird? Being congratulated by a neighbor they barely knew? Then again, she did help solve the Bloody Painter case with them.

"She's at the park with Molly," John explained the second part of her question.

"That's nice of her." She paused for a minute, waiting for them to explain. Who the frick-frack is Molly? Sister? "So why are you here?"

The sandy-haired man furrowed his brows and scooted from the comfortable middle of his seat. "I thought it was obvious – we came to check how you were doing. After the case, we were worried –"

"You were worried," Sherlock interjected, taking a sandwich and tossing it to Alecto laying by Samara's feet, who caught it with a snap, happily munching.

"WE worried that – about… We just hadn't seen you around as much."

The brunette sighed, running a hand through her hair. "That case was like a week ago, and you're still worried about me?" Samara didn't know if she should feel grateful or annoyed. Despite her confusion, she conjured up a small smile directed at the pair. "Don't be, I'm fine. Sure, it was… stressful at first, but nothing's changed. I always keep to myself, so there's no need for you guys to be worrying about me."

"You're taking this surprisingly well," John gave her a quick look over, from her slipper-clad feet to her jean and comfy long sleeve shirt, she appeared to be relaxing.

"Nothing to feel bad about, he was a bad man and I helped put him away."

"Actually, you put him in intensive care and –" Sherlock was interrupted by a jab at his side. Giving his friend (is that what they were?) a quick glare, the blue-eyed man rolled his eyes. "But I suppose the case finished quicker with your… help."

"So, besides that, how have you been? Any unwanted guests or the like? How's… Alecto?" Damn John for wanting to make small talk.

But Samara thought it only nice to indulge the man. After all, the only one she's seen him hang out with was the high-functioning sociopath scoping out the few canvases she has scattered across her room. "Nothing much, Lestrade told me I couldn't get the job but I applied at some places looking for a graphic designer and an art store looking for a drawing instructor. Oh yeah –" The amber-eyed girl sat up straighter once she recalled an important event. "After you guys dropped me off some dude called me."

"Do you know who?"

"Naw, some London number."

"It was Mycroft, most likely wondering who you were and why you associate with me. What did you tell him?"

Samara shrugged. "He got creepy, so I hung up. Then some car came by and people tried to take me away…" She took a long sip of tea.

John and Sherlock waited for her to continue. When she made no motion that was going to happen, the ever-impatient Holmes thumped his fingers against the couch's armrest. "And after that?"

The brunette finished her sip with a relaxed sigh. "After that they wanted me to come with them, but I just told them no thank you and to schedule an appointment for my kidnapping later." She glanced at her watch. "Actually, I think they're supposed to be here by now."

And like clockwork, there was a knock at her side door.