It took a few weeks, but soon enough Katrina was fully recovered and her flat had been tidied up. She most definitely had Sherlock and John to thank for the latter part of that, as well as her work buddies in the tech department too. Oddly enough, she kept it from them the circumstances of her being shot, making an offhand comment about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She was lucky that they believed it. Only Sherlock and John knew the truth; besides, she didn't want to be worrying anyone at work about that.

There was another thing too, which she didn't want Sherlock or John to know about. It was the dreams she kept having about Moran breaking into her flat. Katrina was acutely aware of the fact that lying awake at night for two hours straight in bed after waking up from a bad dream wasn't exactly healthy, and was most definitely not a good idea to keep to herself; regardless, she did it all the same.

Katrina considered herself lucky that it didn't affect her day to day life, as she was used to not sleeping much in general - she'd never been good at sleeping, and it's not like the dreams would last forever. They were intense the first few days, yes, but they started to fade away and become less frequent. She was good at stopping herself from going to a too dark place along with it as well.

It was only when she decided to visit Sherlock and John - instead of communicating to them via text - that did she realise her discomfort was written all over her face.

John wasn't in, so it was just her and Sherlock until he got back. She wanted to express her gratitude to them at the same time so she didn't have to put the detective through social formalities more than once. Katrina had a feeling he wouldn't like that.

So while he was on his laptop, she picked up the newspaper and read it while perched on the sofa. There was nothing particularly interesting going on, but Katrina assumed Sherlock would always find something to pick out and pick apart.

"Something's bothering you," he then said rather suddenly, making her jump. Her gaze flickered to him over the top of the newspaper to find he was scrutinising her rather intensely.

"I'm fine," she said tersely.

Sherlock harrumphed and went back to typing away. Katrina tried to concentrate on the newspaper but found her cheeks going pink as she could feel him keeping glancing back over at her.

"Stop it," she warned him.

"Trauma presents itself in many ways, Katrina, nothing to be ashamed of but maybe stop trying to hide it. Lying doesn't suit you."

"You're right, lying doesn't suit me," she agreed, folding up the newspaper and tossing it down onto the coffee table, crossing one leg over the other as she did so. "But there are certain things that aren't your concern, Sherlock."

"Then why are you here?"

"I came here to actually tell you and John thank you in person, but he's not here yet. I was bored of texting the both of you," she started off. "And… what happens now? Are we meant to go our separate ways? Do I pay you despite the fact that you provided me your services without my asking? You wouldn't allow a normal client to text you updates of their injury, would you?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, and Katrina knew she had got him there.

"Go on then. Why do you both still talk to me?"

"You intrigue me."

"How so?"

"You have secrets - everyone does - but they're harder to figure out than most other people. You're too good for your current job, I know that much, and you're clever. Not many people who rely on their emotions are usually clever."

Now it was her turn to scowl at him, but he ignored it and carried on talking.

"Except I'm missing something about you, and that doesn't happen with normal people - you're not normal."

"Is that meant to be a compliment?" she teased him with a now raised eyebrow.

Sherlock scoffed. "I don't do compliments, Katrina, and most people don't take the words 'not normal' as a compliment. So why do you?"

"You didn't say it in a horrible way. I'm taking the fact you can't figure me out as a compliment. Having some mystery left in the world could do you some good."

A half smile snuck it's way onto Sherlock's face ever so briefly, but it was whisked away by the fact he noticed someone standing in the doorway - a someone he was rarely keen on visiting.

"You've made a friend," said the person in the doorway, catching Katrina's attention too.

"No, Mycroft, I haven't," Sherlock sighed, making the woman roll her eyes.

"Well, one can hope."

"Maybe don't hope too much."

Katrina's eyes were darting back and forth between Sherlock and the suited man with the umbrella, and it made her wonder what kind of mother would name her child "Mycroft."

"And a woman of all the people for you to be talking to. Perhaps I was mistaken in thinking that sex alarmed you," Mycroft said as he waltzed over to the red armchair and settling down in it.

"Said woman is still present and has ears perfectly capable of hearing," Katrina said coolly, grabbing the attention of both men. "Can I have an explanation?"

"Katrina, this is my brother Mycroft. Mycroft, this is… an ex-client, Katrina Jenkins," Sherlock said.

The same person who named Sherlock also named Mycroft. That made perfect sense to her.

"Of course. The Diamond Girl," Mycroft mused as he gave Katrina a calculating once over; something that seemed more intense than when Sherlock did it.

"The what now?" Katrina's eyebrows went up into her hairline.

"Diamond Girl. John's title for the case on his blog - do you not keep up?" Sherlock replied.

"Normally I do, but I've been…"

"Yes?"

"Distracted."

"So there is something bothering you."

"Not that it's any of your business."

"Then why are you here? Clearly not just for a thank you." Sherlock slammed the lid of his laptop down and rested his fingertips under his chin. "Nor to find out what happens next."

Katrina was chewing on the inside of her lip, debating the best way to ask the question. She didn't want to alarm Sherlock, but she didn't want to make Mycroft too privy to any information. Either way, the other Holmes was watching her with a strange curiosity that she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"Will he come after me again?" she asked Sherlock quietly, who tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

"Why are you asking me this now instead of two, nearly three weeks ago?"

"Answer the question," she told him in a dangerously low voice along with a fiery look. She ignored Mycroft completely and therefore didn't see how his curiosity was now piqued; he had turned in the chair ever so slightly to face her, to watch her more closely.

"He shouldn't. If he does, then that means you're of use to him. Now answer my question."

"I've had… bad dreams about Moran breaking into my flat," she admitted quietly, after a moment of so. "Not so frequent now, but a few weeks ago… definitely frequent. I wanted to wait until my mind had calmed down, so to speak."

"Good call."

"Why would Miss Jenkins be of use to Moriarty?" Mycroft then piped up.

"I mentioned Moran, not Moriarty," she said carefully, frowning as she looked over him.

Mycroft sighed, and Sherlock elected to speak before his older brother could.

"Mycroft claims to be cleverer than me. And he's practically the British government, so people like Moran and Moriarty are one his radar. Plus they work together an awful lot."

"I occupy a minor position-"

"If Mr Holmes is so clever," Katrina cut across him, "then surely he would know why I would be of use to Moriarty. If I were to be of use to Moriarty."

"I wasn't aware of you being on my brother's radar until today, Miss Jenkins," Mycroft said calmly. "Why would Moriarty want to come after you twice? What do you have that he needs?"

"It was a hypothetical question-"

"As is mine," Mycroft said rather darkly. Now it was Sherlock's turn to watch a back forth, one that he could see was beginning to aggravate Katrina. Her jaw had become taut, and he could see the restraint in her holding back an intense anger.

He didn't need to know emotions or be a detective to figure out that one.

"Find out for yourself," she ended up saying and leaning back on the sofa in a deflated manner. "Although, actually, I did have that diamond he wanted. That's it. So if he came for me for anything else I have - you'll just have to find out for yourself."

"That's why I'm here, actually," Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at Katrina, causing both her and Sherlock to be shocked.

"Stop spying on people who associate with me for a few minutes," Sherlock grumbled.

"Oddly enough, I'm with Sherlock on that one," Katrina agreed, standing up and heading over to Mycroft, squaring up to him. "If you want to talk to me, you ask for me. You don't stalk me to your brother's flat, British government or not."

There was a tense silence hanging in the air between the pair; Sherlock was almost ready to jump out of his chair to pull Katrina away from Mycroft, tell her that he wasn't worth threatening because he'd just do it far worse. It was strange to see them hold each other's gaze evenly, both of their auras attempting to dominate - because Mycroft could easily do that from a chair.

Soon enough, Mycroft actually relented. His shoulders sagged - not in defeat, but more in that he was relaxing.

"Fine," he said curtly, rising to tower over Katrina, who took a fearful step back. That brought a half smirk to the older Holmes' face. "I'll be seeing you, Miss Jenkins."

Katrina didn't take her eyes off of Mycroft as he left the room and went past a rather bemused John, who entered carrying a pint of milk. He glanced back at the government official, and then at the seething woman in the flat.

"So… what did I miss? How come you're here, Katrina?"

"I came here to say thank you to you and Sherlock in person," she said, simmering down. "Apparently his older brother is fascinated by me, and I don't know. Not sure if I want to find out."

"Right…" John frowned as he headed to the kitchen to put the milk away. "Well. Avoid Mycroft as much as you can, would be my suggestion," he called back over his shoulder.

"Please, no matter how much she tries he'll probably show up at her work in a few days time," Sherlock remarked dryly.

Katrina sighed, making her way to the door. "Perfect. Just what I want." She turned back to Sherlock. "Thank you, though, for all your help. I'll see you around, I guess?"

"Possibly…"

Katrina rolled her eyes and left 221b, most definitely anticipating when she would be visited by Mycroft.