"Maxine Arthur, twenty-five years old, graduated from Rhode Island School of Design..." Without warning, the lady sitting in front of Max leaned forward. "Tell me, why did you want to go to America?"
Ms. Carol Simmons was the boss of the London Bibliotheque offices, and Max got the impression that she was the type of woman who wouldn't take no for an answer. She had greying-brown hair that was pulled back into a tight bun, and her stormy grey eyes seemed to see right into Max's soul. Her suit fitted her neatly, and she didn't even have a hair out of place.
On the other hand, Max was sure that she herself looked like she had been dragged through hell and back, even though she had tried her hardest to appear presentable. She hadn't been able to sleep at all last night, and if it had been up to her, she would have stayed home all day and eaten through one- or ten- tubs of vanilla ice cream. But when she had been called in for a follow-up interview at Bibliotheque, she had been forced to admit that she couldn't just sulk around in her flat.
Max was sitting in Simmons's office at the moment. Everything about it seemed normal: a neat desk, organized bookshelves, filing cabinets, an entire wall made of glass in which Max could see out onto the very normal London streets from ten floors up... The day was unremarkable, and it seemed wrong; Max knew that she was being stupid, but she had halfway-expected that the world would somehow be changed after the events of the museum, that everyone would be in shock just as she was. But London was no different today than it had been yesterday or any of the days before, and it was a scary thought.
"I..." Max trailed off.
She had answered this same question in her previous interview, she knew that. But right now, for the life of her, she couldn't remember what she had said. Every time she tried to think, she saw Soo Lin laying limply on the ground, gazing out at nothing with the black origami flower laying on her palm.
Get a grip, she told herself sternly. Sherlock's on it. Focus on your interview, not the case!
The thought cleared Max's mind a bit, and she turned her attention to Simmons, who was waiting with an impatient expression. "I went to America for college," she finally answered. "Rhode Island School of Design is the best graphic design school out there. I wanted to see if I could do it."
Simmons raised an eyebrow. "And could you?" she asked.
"Yes," Max stated.
Neither of them spoke for a few seconds as Simmons stared at Max, silently analyzing her. Max refused to look away. "You're confident," Simmons stated. "I like that."
Suddenly, Simmons's phone rang, and she turned away from Max to pick it up. "I thought I told you I don't want to be interrupted-" she started, but then the person on the other side of the line cut her off. Simmons's gaze flickered to Max. "... Yes, Ms. Arthur is here with me... Alright." She put the phone down. "Someone from the government is here to see you."
Max blinked. "Come again?" she asked. The government? She felt her stomach suddenly drop out from under her when she realized something. Does this have to do with Soo Lin? She grimaced and tried to push back her growing panic.
"Ah, Maxine Arthur?"
Both of them turned to see a man standing in the doorway. He was slightly taller than Max, with thinning brown hair and cold blue eyes. He was dressed in an immaculate suit and was leaning on a black classic umbrella- even though the sun was shining brightly outside and rain wasn't on the forecast for the entire week.
"... Here?" Max replied.
The man turned to Simmons. "Kindly leave us," he instructed. "I wish to have a word with Ms. Arthur."
Simmons crossed her arms. "Sir, this is my office and my building-" she started.
Instead of letting her finish, the man held up a badge. Simmons eyed it, then turned to Max. "My secretary will call you," she told her. "Show yourself out." With that, she walked out of the office, ignoring the man as she passed him.
As soon as she left, the man closed the door to the office and took a seat behind Simmons's desk as if he owned it. Max eyed him cautiously, trying to figure out what he wanted. For a few seconds, Max tried to be like Sherlock and see the story hidden in the man's appearance, but it didn't take long for her to admit that she had no clue what she was doing. The man just watched her with amusement, as if he knew what she was doing.
"Who are you?" Max finally asked.
The man waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, just a minor government official," he answered. "But I didn't come here to talk about me; I have a few questions, Ms. Arthur."
Max crossed her arms, but even though she appeared calm on the outside, her heart was beating rapidly and it was all she could do to avoid shaking. "Questions about what?" she replied. She had a feeling that even though she had come here for a job interview she was now in a different type of interview, one that was far more sinister.
"About Sherlock Holmes," the man told her. Max tensed, and he leaned forward, as if could sense her unease. "I have reason to be... concerned... about his wellbeing."
She raised an eyebrow. "And why can't you just ask him?" she challenged.
The man grimaced. "I would prefer that my concern goes unnoticed," he told her. "We have a... difficult relationship."
Max was silent for a few seconds as she digested that...
... and then she burst out laughing.
For the first time since he had stepped into the room, the man seemed startled- but only slightly. "What?" he demanded.
She grinned, not scared of him anymore. "You're him, aren't you?" she asked. "Sherlock's brother. Mycroft, is it? Mycroft Holmes?"
Mycroft looked at her curiously. "I see my brother told you about me," he commented. "I suppose that's an improvement."
Max shrugged. "All he told me was your name and that you like to kidnap people," she told him. "I figured the rest out myself- that creepy dramatic vibe that you have is the kidnapping part, and besides, anyone can see that you look similar to him, if they look closely enough. I guess I should thank you for visiting me here instead of kidnapping me or something, but did you really have to do this during my job interview?"
That just caused Mycroft to scoff. "You already have the job," he said. "Ms. Simmons made up her mind as soon as you started talking- you can tell by looking at her left sleeve."
And it was in that moment that Max realized something; Mycroft was smart. Sherlock-type smart.
"Tell me, what is it like there at Baker St?" Mycroft asked. "Will Sherlock start taking in stray dogs now?"
Max blinked. "... Excuse me?" she replied.
He grimaced. "First John Watson, then you," he said. "Why is my brother suddenly making friends?"
She eyed him curiously for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not he was being serious. When it was clear that he was, she shrugged. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"
Mycroft looked at her sharply, and now that Max knew what she was looking for she could see it: that weight in his gaze that said that he was deducing her. Sherlock had the same look. "You'll do," Mycroft declared.
"Sorry, what?" Max asked.
But Mycroft continued on as if she hadn't spoken. "I suppose it would be pointless to bribe you for information on Sherlock," he said. "So I'll just ask you to keep an eye on him."
Max nodded. "I will," she promised. "I would have anyway. But..." She frowned at him. "Did this really have to be during my job interview?"
If it wasn't her imagination, Mycroft seemed to smirk slightly. "My brother and I can never resist a flare for the dramatic," he told her.
"But my job interview!" Max protested.
Mycroft just stood and started walking towards the door. "Farewell, Ms. Arthur," he said.
She remained where she was as he walked away, but then she turned around in her chair to face him. "You're just like Sherlock, aren't you?" she asked.
He paused by the door, his hand already on the doorknob. "In what way?" he asked.
His eyes were intense as he looked at her, but Max didn't look away. "You're alone," she answered.
Mycroft was silent for a second, but then he nodded to her. "You're quite perceptive, Ms. Arthur," he said. And he walked out of the office.
The door closed gently behind him.
000
Max had just stepped out of the Bibliotheque offices when her phone rang.
Grumbling under her breath, she reached into her bag and, after a small struggle, pulled out her phone. "Yeah?" she asked as she answered the phone.
"Hi," John said over the phone. "Are you feeling better?"
It took a second for Max to remember her breakdown last night, after everything at the museum- her conversation with Mycroft had completely driven it from her mind. "Yeah, I'm fine," she answered.
"Good!" John exclaimed. "Hey, listen, can you do me a favor? Remember Sarah?"
Max blinked. "The girl at work that you fancy?" she replied. "Yeah. Why?"
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I- I have a date with her tonight-" he started.
"Congratulations!" Max said.
"Thanks," John replied. "So... err... I'm going to be out tonight. Sherlock's gonna be at the flat by himself and I'm worried about him so... will you come over to the flat and watch him while I'm gone?"
Max was silent for a few seconds, but then she burst out into laughter. "You want me to babysit Sherlock?" she asked. "Are you serious? Oh my God, that's priceless!"
"Thanks," John said dryly. "So will you do it?"
"Yeah, of course," Max replied, still laughing. "I was going to come over later anyway."
"Really?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Why?"
The smile slid from Max's face, and she grimaced, thinking once again of Mycroft. "I have a few questions for Sherlock," she answered.
000
"... What happened here?"
Max had stopped off at her flat to change into casual clothes, and now she stood in the doorway of Sherlock and John's flat, but it looked nothing like it had yesterday. It seemed like all the books from the bookshelves had multiplied overnight and decided to take over the entire room; there were crates stacked in piles that were taller than Max, each of them containing books stacked in a sloppy mess, and even more books were sprawled on every imaginable surface in the room. In fact, the only clear spots seemed to be a path from the doorway to the dining table where John was sitting, a circle around where Sherlock was standing next to the bookshelves, and a well-paced track in the middle of the room.
"Books," Sherlock told her, not even turning to look at her. Any concern that he had had for her last night was obviously gone now as he examined the books on the bookshelf, glaring at them as if daring them to say something.
Max nodded. "I see that," she agreed. "Can I come in, or are there land mines under the floor?"
John gestured her in. "It should be safe," he said. "No promises."
She walked cautiously into the room, following the path to the dining table. "So, any leads?" she asked.
John shrugged. "Yes and no," he answered.
"A book everyone would own," Sherlock declared angrily. He turned to look at Max and John. "What's a book that everyone would own?"
Max shrugged as she sat down next to John. "The dictionary?" she suggested.
Sherlock shook his head. "Already tried that," he grumbled.
She frowned at him. "What exactly are you doing?" she asked.
He pointed to a nearby stack of crates. "We tried going through all their books, but we don't have time for that," he said. "So we're looking for books that everyone would have."
Max blinked. "Sorry, but how did we start talking about books?" she demanded.
Sherlock pointed to the pictures of the Hangzhou characters on the wall. "The numbers are in book code," he told her. "The first number- fifteen- is the page, and the second number- one- is the word. Soo Lin told us that all smugglers have the book, but she didn't tell us which book. So-"
"- so you tried going through Lukis and Van Coon's books to try to find the right one, but you're narrowing it down to books everyone would own," she said. "Got it. How long have you been at this, exactly?"
John grimaced. "Since we got back from the museum," he told her. "We stayed up the entire night. I fell asleep at work today."
Sherlock grabbed a book from the bookshelf. "Fifteen, entry one," he muttered to himself. He flipped open to the page, but angrily slammed it closed. "Nostrils." He propped his elbows on the crate in front of him and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, ruffling it up. "I need some air. We're going out tonight."
Max raised an eyebrow at John. "You didn't tell him?" she asked.
Sherlock looked up sharply. "Tell me what?" he demanded.
John cleared his throat. "I've... er... got a date," he said.
Sherlock blinked in surprise. "What?" he asked.
John sighed. "It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun," he explained.
But Sherlock still seemed shocked. "That's what I was suggesting," he said.
John blinked uncomfortably. "Uh... no, it wasn't," he replied. "At least, I hope not. No, I'm going out, and you're staying here with Max."
Sherlock sighed. "Fine," he said. "Where are you taking her?"
"Cinema," John answered.
Sherlock scoffed. "Dull, boring, predictable," he declared. John blinked, seeming offended, but Sherlock reached into his pants pocket and passed a piece of paper to him. "Why don't you try this? In London for one night only."
Max leaned over John's shoulder to read the piece of paper; it was a strip torn from a poster that advertised the Yellow Dragon Circus. She glanced up at Sherlock questioningly, recognizing the design from one of the posters that they had passed by at the train tracks. Sherlock just shrugged.
John glanced over the paper once more, then held the paper back to Sherlock. "Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice," he said.
000
A few minutes later, John had left the flat to take Sarah to the Yellow Dragon Circus.
Max and Sherlock, meanwhile, were sitting in the two armchairs in Baker St, surrounded on all sides by the mess that was Lukis and Van Coon's books- they had spent a few minutes clearing a space to sit down. "So..." Max trailed off. "We might be here for a while."
Sherlock grunted but didn't reply.
Max sighed and leaned back in John's armchair. "I spoke to your brother today," she said.
That caused Sherlock to look up sharply. "What?" he demanded.
Max glanced over at him. "Mycroft," she said. "He interrupted my job interview."
Sherlock was silent as he considered that, but then he nodded. "He's getting less dramatic in his old age, I see," he commented. "What did he want?"
She shrugged. "He wants me to make sure you're okay," she told him. "To make sure you have ten fingers and ten toes, stuff like that. And he said that you two don't get along."
Sherlock scoffed. "That's an understatement," he grumbled.
Max had a feeling that there was more to the story than that, but based on Sherlock's expression she didn't think that it was a good idea to get into that right now. "So, uh... what exactly does he do?" she asked instead.
He grimaced. "If you ask him he'll say that he occupies a minor position in the British government," he answered bitterly.
She raised an eyebrow. "But that's not true," she stated.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course not," he said. "He is the British government... or the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis, if he's in the mood."
Max blinked. "Right," she replied.
Neither of them spoke for a while, long enough for Max to assume that Sherlock was in his mind palace again- whatever that was. But then he turned to look at her. "Why are you here?" he asked, breaking the silence.
She gave him a look. "Here in the flat?" she replied. "John asked me here. Unless you're asking about the purpose of life- if you are then I really can't help you."
He shook his head. "I mean, why haven't you decided that you want nothing to do with this?" he said. "Solving crimes, following clues for days and days, seeing people die... John and I do it for the thrill. But what about you? You're not like us." He frowned. "I don't understand."
Max shrugged, and she was silent for a few seconds as she thought on his words. "I... I'm not sure, really," she admitted. "All I know is that I keep coming back."
The room fell silent for a few seconds, and Max cleared her throat to break the silence. "So... the circus," she said. "You didn't just send John there because it was interesting, did you?"
Sherlock's lips twitched up in the barest hint of a smile. "I didn't," he agreed. Without warning, he stood up and headed towards the door. "Let's go watch a circus."
Max watched him go, still sitting in John's armchair. She knew that he was expecting her to go with him, but something held her back. Maybe it was the fact that the last time she had followed him out of the flat, Soo Lin had died. But still...
Why haven't you decided that you want nothing to do with us? Sherlock had asked.
Maybe it had something to do with the uneasy feeling that she had in her stomach when she thought of letting Sherlock- or John- go into a dangerous situation without her.
"I'm a horrible babysitter," she declared.
She stood up and followed him out.