John's morning ran relatively smoothly: he successfully accomplished eating toast without Sherlock interrupting, asking for opinions on whatever murder had his attention, or having to move because an experiment was bubbling over onto the kitchen counter. Of course, the detective had not bothered to interact with him – let alone begin any tests on body parts - since last night. Sherlock had somehow managed to move himself from under the couch and into his own bedroom during the course of the night, which seemed like a relative improvement to John. The doctor had offered to toast some bread for Sherlock or to make him a cup of tea, but the feet sticking out from under the duvet had not made any reply. John simply smiled to himself as he returned to the kitchen. Madeleine made no comment.
John had had - despite getting home a little later than he would have liked – a good night's sleep; though he had been awakened by a certain young black-haired girl, who had grinned at him suspiciously and then pointed to the alarm clock beside his bed. She had disappeared before his eyes could focus on the clock. It was 6am.
He was disappointed to find that they were going to a two-bedroom flat in South Harrow on Minehead Court, owned by the infamous Julie Walton, but did not let that deter him from his shower, toast, or relative enjoyment of a quiet morning.
When the pair of them arrived at the small flat, a peroxide blond woman greeted them at the door. Julie was stout and had the habit of dropping her 'r's and a few 'l's.
"Oh yeah, we moved heah just a few months ago. Hubuwt wanted a pwace cwohser to the rivah, but it's onwy a coupue of mighwes away, and evewything is so expensive now. Say, whah did you say you was fwom? Scotwand Yawed?"
The look on Madeleine's face told John she was not enjoying the woman's speech impediment, or lack of grammar.
Julie led them through the front door and down a hall to what she called the 'Weception Aweeah'.
"Would you wike a cup of tea?" she asked politely. Both Madeleine and John shook their heads, but the woman toddled off into the kitchen anyway.
"What's Hubewt gone and done now then? I has towed him, I did, not to get in wif awe them authowity people." Julie re-entered the room with three mugs and a teapot on a tray. She placed them in front of her silent guests and busied herself with pouring the hot tea into the mugs.
"You know, the otheh day he found this USB on the gwound in some dahwk aweey, and some man's ID cahwd," she nattered on.
John felt Madeleine sit a little higher next to him, listening.
"He was obsessing abouwt it awe week, some Samuewe man fwom a bank awe summin," Julie told them, sitting back in the couch across the coffee table.
"Samuel Jones?" Madeleine asked, sitting even further forward on her part of the couch. She looked as though her mind was whirring horribly fast for a girl her age, but a spark in her eye when she glanced at John told him she was onto something.
John racked his mind for anything on 'Samuel Jones', and was quietly surprised to find that Madeleine had read the newspaper the week before, for that was the only time John could recall seeing the name.
"Uh, possibwey, I neveh weally pay any attention to Hubewt... do you think I'm ah howhible sistah?" Julie cocked her head to the side.
"Not in the least, Ms Walton. You wouldn't happen to have the USB or ID card would you?" Madeleine smiled. The false civility was not lost on John though.
"If it was gowing to be anywhah, it would be in his woom."
"May we take a look?" John asked.
For a brief moment, Julie looked a little sour, before nodding and standing.
She led them back down the hall, and to a white door. Hubert's sister pushed the door open, and showed them into the small, dark, and messy room. Clothing was strewn across the floor, tumbling out of the washing basket in the corner. The bed was atrociously made up, and it reminded John a little of Sherlock's bed, though less antique, smaller, and a little more metallic.
"He ain't weawee been home in a whiwe," Julie told them, moving over and sitting down on the bed.
"When was the last time you saw him?" Madeleine asked from the wooden chest of drawers under the small window.
"Uh, maybwe wast week. I cawn't think of whawht he must have been doing befowh he died. Bwoody idiot, thats whawht he was. Awhways got himsewf into twouble when we was youngah."
"Thank you for letting us into your apartment, Ms Walton," Madeleine told the woman, turning back from the drawers. "We are truly sorry for your loss."
"Awh, it's okay. We wewn't that cwose anyway."
xsherlockx
"Say, awen't you a bit young to be wohking for Scotwand Yawed?" the two of them heard Julie say as John pulled the front door of the flat closed behind them.
"You think it's suspicious," Madeleine told him as they stood on the curb, trying to hail a taxi.
"What is?"
"That she wasn't upset that her brother had died."
"I did think it was a little strange. I'd like to think that my sister mightbe a little upset if I happened to end up at St Bart's."
"Well it would be your own fault if she wasn't."
John cast Madeleine a dark, though curious, look.
"I saw your phone," the girl explained.
John 'hmphed' in reply.
xsherlockx
Madeleine shifted her body toward John in the taxi, turning her head. "Samuel Jones was the CFO for the HSBC bank. He disappeared last week after work. Scotland Yard is still looking for him."
John did not reply. For a brief moment Madeleine wondered whether he was angry at her for bringing up his sister, but continued anyway:
"This," she held up a lanyard with a small white plastic card attached to it, "was on the drawers in Hubert's room. It's Samuel's ID card for the bank. I think that's how we'll get through security if we need to go and search his office at Canary Wharf."
"Canary Wharf? Madeleine, that's –"
"- I also found this," she interrupted him. The girl held a short, silver stick up in front of him, only about half an inch wide, and an inch-or-so long. She held it over his lap, motioning him to take it from her.
John did so, turning it over in his hands. "It's the USB."
"Yes. What do you see?"
"A silver USB stick..."
Madeleine nodded for him to continue.
"It's metal... it has scratches on it here... its obviously missing its lid." John stopped, handing it back to her.
"So? It's a USB used for his work or something, heaps of people have them."
Madeleine was hardly paying attention, simply turning the device over and over with her fingers.
Metal – Sterling silver, gold rimming near the connector. Expensive USB. Used by someone with money.
Scratches on the rimming – Gold is relatively soft. Made with another harder metal. Possibly kept with keys. Keys are important to people. Important information kept on it.
Missing lid – Not something usually missing from a USB. Possibility of the USB being misplaced. Stolen.
Lack of any company logo – Not mass produced. Perhaps only a couple of them made. Specifically made for a certain purpose.
Scratches on the USB connector – Over-used. The important information was used a lot.
Blood – A small spot of blood on the back.
"Why would someone want a USB stick?" Madeleine asked herself.
To John, it seemed as though the girl already knew they answer.
xsherlockx
John had insisted that they go back to the flat to check on Sherlock. He had never seen the detective in this sort of state before, and even though he was pretty sure Sherlock did not eat on a regular basis, John wanted to make sure he was not starving to death in his bedroom.
"He's just throwing a tantrum, Doctor John. It just shows you who the actual child is in the family." Madeleine waved it off as they climbed out of the taxi.
"I can't believe I have to babysit both of you," he muttered to himself as they climbed the stairs.
"A lady was in here to see you before, John, dear!" Mrs Hudson called up after them.
"Thank you Mrs Hudson! I'll be sure to give Sarah a call back!" he returned.
"Oh but dear, it wasn't Sa-!"
Madeleine shoved the door closed behind her. She hung her coat and scarf up on Sherlock's usual hook. Where the detective's clothing was now, neither could say.
"Daddy has a laptop, correct?" Madeleine asked John. The doctor nodded, pointing to the computer on the desk in the lounge. The girl smiled to herself, and crossed the room to the table, sitting herself down.
"I'll just check what's on the USB," she told him.
John nodded, turning around the corner and into the kitchen. He slowed his steps as he approached Sherlock's open door. A voice could be heard through the small crack the door made. John pressed himself up against the frame, trying to shift his head into a position so he could see the bed through crevice.
He was surprised to see that the light was on in the room, and Sherlock was no longer hiding under the covers, but facing away from the door on top of them. The detective appeared to be curled up in the foetal position, with his arms wrapping around his knees. What surprised John even more, was the long-legged woman, perched on the bed by Sherlock's feet.
She was, basically, stunning, surpassing Madeleine's attractiveness by miles. The woman's dark red hair waved and curled over her shoulders, though the front locks were pinned to the back to keep them away from her face. Her skin was relatively tanned, and flawless, stretching over a strong chin, cheek bones and nose. Her lips were painted perfectly with honey-red lipstick. She wore a well-fitted black suit-jacket and skirt. The black heels on her feet were far higher than anything John had seen Sarah wear.
"Sherlock, darling, what good is it to stay holed up in here all day? You should be outside, tanning that pale skin," the woman was saying. John recognised an American accent, but could not pin-point which part of America it was from.
Sherlock made no reply, not even deeming to roll over and fix her with a glare.
"You're so annoying when you're in one of these moods!" The woman's voice quickly took on an angry tone, and she stood, flattening out the front of her skirt. She folded her arms across her chest, and tapped her foot on the ground.
"Where's my dearest little Madeleine anyway? Have you sent her to a boarding school already? Mycroft said you were planning to keep her here, though I doubt that you could possibly manage that on your own," she huffed, striding around to the other side of the bed. Clearly she was not amused with what she saw on Sherlock's face, because she huffed again and walked decidedly toward the door.
John jumped back just before she reached the wooden door, quickly stepping toward a counter top in the kitchen and picking up a spoon that had been left there. He looked around for something to do with the spoon, and was just about to throw it in the sink when the door opened.
"Oh."
The doctor looked up toward the woman, who looked just as surprised to see him as he did her.
"I didn't know someone else was here." She faltered.
John could no longer here the distant tapping of keys coming from the lounge.
He was made aware that her eyes were a bright greenish-blue.
"Who are you?" the woman demanded, placing her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrow. After being caught out, John realised she was taking on a defensive position. Perhaps she knew she probably was not supposed to be there.
"John Watson. I'm a friend of Sherlock's. In fact, I live with him." He thought it sounded as though he was confessing a crime.
"And what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work? Mycroft said Sherlock's flatmate worked."
"Uh, I just wanted to check to make sure Sherlock was alright, he's been like this since yesterday."
"He's fine."
"Okay."
John decided that the woman probably did not care if she was not supposed to be in the apartment.
"Madeleine!" she squealed, something catching her eye, and she ran – shuffled in her heels – into the lounge. John watched from the counter as the woman scooped a now standing Madeleine into a tight embrace.
Madeleine looked like she was about to become a murderer herself. The girl eyed John over the woman's shoulder, almost as if asking him why he let the woman into their home.
"How have you been, darling? I heard that some of those girls from that nasty boarding school began killing each other. I'm so glad to see that you're safe!" The woman hugged Madeleine again before stepped back.
"Fine."
"Aw, now don't you start becoming like your father. It would be terrible if that brilliant mind of yours was stopped from letting out brilliant things. Talk to me, darling, tell me what has been happening!"
The woman patted Madeleine on the head, took her hand and dragged her to the couch. John took a few steps toward the archway to keep the pair in his view. He was not particularly sure if he should ask the woman to leave. After all, he did not know who she was, and Madeleine certainly did not seem to want her there.
After a few moments of silence, the woman huffed again.
"This whole family is so quiet these days. It's such a shame." Her eyes glanced around the room, and suddenly remembered that he was present.
"Oh! I didn't introduce myself to your friend, Madeleine, darling." She looked back to the girl sitting next to her, "shall we make him guess? I'm sure he's heard all about me from you." The woman turned back to John, eyeing him up and down.
"Uh, I'm sorry, but I'm not actually sure wh-"
"Irene Adler. Extremely pleased to meet you... what did you say your name was?"
"John Wa-"
"Extremely pleased to meet you, Jim." She smiled from the couch.
Almost as rapidly as she had turned her attention to him, she had turned it away, and was now engrossed in trying to probe Madeleine for information on Sherlock and her life.
John quietly returned to the kitchen, and put the kettle on to boil.
Perhaps he would go and drag Sherlock out from his room later.
Hope you enjoyed chapter number eleven.
My beta wanted to point out that Sherlock doesn't actually say anything in this chapter at all. I thought it would have been interesting to have Sherlock go into one of his 'I don't talk for days' episodes.
I would like your help. I have a vague idea of what to do with Madeleine's mother, but I want input from you guys as well, because I am writing this story for you guys :D
Please review. I only got ONE review for the last chapter, and it made me really sad.
SO IF YOU REVIEW! The next chapter comes faster :D
Thank you muchly for reading!
FlyFly