Fade Into You

Rated: R

Notes: This chapter took awhile to figure out. I finally decided where I wanted the story to take place. This takes place after The Blind Banker, but we're having a HUGE gap between that and The Great Game. We'll see more and more of her interacting with Sherlock as chapters go by-but it will be a slow build considering how his personality is.

I appreciate all the reviews and story likes so far. It helps me realize people are reading this, so posting it stays on my agenda. I'm going to add a warning again, while this: as of current tends to be light and fluffy-it will not always remain so. There will be VERY dark themes that could possibly be triggers for some people. I'll probably keep on warning you of this as chapters get darker, or there are flashbacks to darker times in Maddie's life. Please be warned.

I have also created a tumblr as a sandbox to host some of my thoughts, or pictures that could inspire scenes of this story past and future, even a timeline of events of Maddie's life up until this story is there. I'm linking/making it public because I've always liked when other writers have done that, but be warned there will be past/future story spoilers in it. No story will be posted there however. You can find it at: thefadeintoyouuniverse . tumblr . com (remove the spaces)

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Two: Friends

When she woke up, it felt like she had been drinking all night long. Her head was pounding, eyes felt swollen, and she was still in her jeans. Hair was plastered to her face, dried tears-the best glue there was...as she pulled it off her cheek she wondered just how bad she looked. She stumbled out of her bed and towards the bathroom, a tad upset with herself for falling asleep with nearly all of the lights on in her flat-that was going to be a fun electric bill.

The first thing she did was assess the damage crying herself to sleep left her with. Hair was awful, half of it was all bunched up and ratted (times like these she really wanted to chop it off). Her face was pale, had creases in it from her pillow, and her eyes were slightly swollen and massively bloodshot. So, not awful. A shower, coffee, and happy thoughts would make it all better.

First something for her pounding headache.

She searched her medicine cabinet, grabbed what was acceptable and then probably took two pills too many. She spent her morning getting ready, making coffee, showering, and thinking about Sherlock's music. It's what led her to lean against her counter, coffee cup steaming in hand, and blank stare at one long unopened box. The thought of playing was daunting for some reason now that she moved, even more intimidating since she heard the violin music-which had been perfect in her opinion. Her confidence had been shaken by the crying last night, she had been doing fine, then she fell apart. Doubts were swirling around in her head, the thought that maybe it would have been better to stay closer to home when she moved out for the first time…

"Enough!" She told herself, setting her mug down so fast it made a rather loud clanking noise on the counter-top. "I am strong, and I can do this. This is my home now." A deep breath.

She started the day by unpacking the boxes her and John had brought down the previous night. Some were books, some clothes, even more of it was random snack food she knew she wouldn't be able to get in London (A girl had to be ready right?). She even took the time to unpack her keyboard and put it on a stand, tucking it away against a bare wall-that had been reserved for that item alone. It made the flat look complete.

It was noon by the time she was unpacking, the boxes all put away as well. Her flat looked like home now, and it was quiet. It was actually nice. She wondered when would be a good time to go bug John about dinner, he didn't seem like a late sleeper, but he lived with Sherlock and as nice as it was to hear him play last night, it didn't change the fact he was probably ruder than the average person when it came to social interaction. Maybe wait a few more hours...just in case.

So instead, she hopped on her computer, e-mails were checked, including a new move in her chess game with Pepper (finally), schedule was looked at-not really like she had much of a life yet. Self defense and book club were the only things outside of work for her to do-and work wasn't even scheduled, she could do it anytime she wanted as long as she got a set number of translations in a week.

She had spent some of her internet time on looking up her neighbors, finding two separate blogs, one for each man. Similar but different, John had been posting about cases, where as Sherlock's blog seemed incoherent in comparison it was about everything and nothing, it also seemed to have a few unsolved messages he had posted to see if anyone could help him figure them out. She didn't bother with them, maybe later-she promised herself as she bookmarked his site.

Maybe she should make a blog.

Oh god no, that would be awful. "And today I figured out a clay pot recipe from thousands of years ago due to my translations, I also made a stew. Time to watch the news xoxo." Yeah, no one would want to read what she was up to. Actually there were thousands of people who probably wanted to read what Tony Starks daughter was up to, sadly she wasn't nearly as flamboyant as her dad. Just a boring girl.

She moved away from her computer, taking a glance at the clock-she had spent nearly two hours on their websites-at least now she figured it was a good time to visit with John. She headed to the bathroom to toss her now dried hair half up in a few hair clips. The only reason she took the time to toss on a little make-up (and prodding her eye with the mascara wand on accident) was due to the idea that after stopping with John she'd go do some shopping. Her flat was still fairly stocked, but getting out and grabbing a few more items wouldn't hurt.

Today she looked more like an average twenty something, a blue button up that fit her, black jeans, and black boots. She didn't always look dumpy...was the point she wanted to prove, considering that any other time they had seen her was in her comfy clothes. One of her boxes, did thankfully contain a coat (so she could stop wandering around in layers). She grabbed that and kept it in her arms after tossing her purse over her shoulder and locking up.

It was moments later when she was at 221B, knocking at their door and teetering on the steep staircase. The basement staircase wasn't nearly as steep-it felt like she was standing on top of a ladder.

It was of course John who answered, a smile was on his face. He looked relaxed. Much more like the first day she met him. "Maddie, hello-would you like to come in?"

"Sure." She couldn't stop herself, she was curious as to what their flat looked like. The first thing she noticed was the clutter that was trying not to be clutter. It looked like someone just kept throwing papers and others kept trying to organize them to look better. It was dusty. Sherlock sat behind a microscope, not paying much attention to them at all.

"Heading out?" John asked, which pulled her away from looking around.

"Yes, figured I'd take a trip out to the shops today-pick up a few things." She was feeling better since she unpacked, more at home, more like she WAS going to stay there. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Sherlock was looking up away from his microscope. "I figured I'd come up and ask you before I left, when would work best for you with that dinner I owe you?" There was no way to say that to where it didn't come off as sounding horribly flirty. It was the last thing she was trying to do, so she said something that she would probably forever kick herself for: "And Sherlock you're welcome to come to dinner too if you'd like."

"What for? I'm not the one that helped you move." It was the tone of voice that suggested he was horribly bored, and would like nothing to do with dinner at her flat.

"Just being nice." She responded, no sense showing any hurt from that, it wasn't like she expected much anyway, she didn't have to make friends with every person she came across.

"Either tonight or tomorrow after I get off my shift would work just fine." John said, seemingly eager to have a home-cooked meal. From just the slight glimpse she could see into the kitchen, she concluded that no cooking was done there other than to make tea and maybe a few small dishes.

"How about we do tonight? I have to get up early tomorrow...well earlier than usual so I'll probably be dead to the world when you get in from your shift. Like Italian?"

John nodded, "That sounds great. What time?"

"How about seven?"

"Works for me."

She gave a good-bye to John, and even one to Sherlock who already had his head back down looking through his microscope. As she left she could hear John already asking him 'would it kill you to be nicer to her?' It was actually amusing.

She looked at her watch, plenty of time left before seven. Dinner would be easy, but would take awhile to simmer. She was just happy to have someone to cook for. She cooked with her Mom a lot, even more when she got sick-then living with her Dad she really didn't cook as much, but still enough to stay sharp in the kitchen-but there was really no one to appreciate it. Everyone was always so busy.

But now it seemed like she had a good start on a decent friendship, John Watson her first friend in the big city (outside of Mrs. Hudson of course!).

With her coat tugged on she headed out the front door with a smile on her face. Today was a better day.

His phone rang. Good news or bad? It was usually one or the other, especially on that particular phone. He wasn't too busy at the moment, no one would peek in to catch the conversation...whatever it may be. He propped himself behind a desk, legs kicking up not caring about any dirt that landed from his shoes onto the papers scattered around.

"Yes?"

"We have a name on the girl sir." Ah, so it was that kind of phone call. Good news all around. "She 'ad boxes comin' in yesterday we were able to get a look at."

Couldn't be too suspicious just yet, anyone caught rifling around Baker street would get noticed-he didn't want them to be noticed yet.

"...and?" Get to the POINT people. Why was everyone ever so slow?

"Uh, her name is Madeline O'Brien."

Cute.

Oh Madeline O'Brien whatever are you doing at Baker Street? It was oh so fun when someone new entered the game without even knowing it.

"Keep an eye on her, but remain distant. If anything interesting pops up, do let me know."

And then he terminated the call, no sense keeping one of his goons on the phone for any longer than he had to. With a few quick keystrokes he had sent the name to another person who would find out everything there was to know about this girl.

"Should be interesting, any way it turns out."

It was seven on the dot when John knocked on Maddie's door. The lovely part about having dinner with her would be the fact that he didn't have to leave the house at all. By four it had started raining, and it was a blessing to know that to visit Maddie he wouldn't have to go out in the rain.

Of course, he had the entire day to reflect upon meeting the younger woman for dinner in her flat. She was nice, but young-too young for him honestly. He wondered, for most of the day in fact if she had expected this to be some kind of date instead of just a 'thank you' for helping her with the boxes. He thought about how to break it to her that he would only want to be friends, while he showered and got ready. Thought about how he could bully any future boyfriends for her, while he dressed for the night.

He was thinking so much it had annoyed Sherlock completely-who left the flat, not caring at all about the rainstorm that had settled in. Leaving John to wonder how his inward thinking could annoy the man so much.

The door was answered near right away, he could hear her running up the steps. When the door opened he smiled, she looked so happy to see him. When was the last time someone looked at him like that? "Hi John, come on in!" He followed her down the stairs, shutting her door on the way down.

Her hair was wavy and down, clothing had been changed since the morning-dark tights and a green sweater dress that stopped at her knees. She looked like she changed for comfort, but still wanted to be seen outside of her normal baggy clothes. It was a good change in his mind.

With the dark lingering outside, she had nearly every light turned on, the pain of living in the basement he figured. It took a moment for the smell to hit him, but when it did he was grateful he hadn't eaten a large lunch. "Wow, that smells wonderful."

She grinned, moving over to her stove to stir something in a pot. "Thank you, it's nice to cook for someone. Usually I make enough for myself and a small army and have to freeze a ton of portions."

"I gave up on cooking. Sherlock insists on keeping bloody eyeballs in the fridge...among other body parts."

She frowned at that, obviously having distaste for it as well. "Guess it would be too much to ask him to get his own mini fridge for that stuff. Hey, would you like something to drink? I have water, coffee, tea, beer, wine, and some juice boxes."

"The juice boxes are tempting, but I think a beer would be lovely."

She nodded and went to rummage in her fridge, she brought out a bottle and popped the cap off, handing it to him before she went to busy herself by opening up a bottle of white wine. "Take a seat anywhere you'd like, dinner will be done in a few minutes."

He nodded, taking a long pull of his beer and pondering if he should ask some of his mates down to the pub soon. It had been ages. He sat at the table, which already had two plates and other necessities on it.

It looked nice, even had a candle…

And she did look quite nice too.

Effort being put into the dinner.

"Maddie?"

She turned away from the stove, there was a wooden spoon in one hand and a wine glass in the other. Now or never, don't want to give the wrong idea.

"I just want to make sure that...uh...y'know, this isn't...I mean, I'm not...you're great...but…"

Oh yeah, this was going over well.

A blush crept up her neck and spread over her face, at first she bit her lips and then she just smiled. She put down the wooden spoon, and headed over to the table with him. She sat, and smiled.

He felt stupid. He'd been reading more and more into situations since Sherlock entered his life, unfortunately for him-he didn't seem to get it right this time.

"I can understand where you would get that idea, but honestly I just wanted to thank you for helping me with boxes, and being kind to me. I'm married to my work. I just...want friends right now." She had the look of someone who was being careful with their words, she frowned though apparently not quite happy with what she was saying. "I mean, you're quite handsome."

"I was just being an idiot."

"No you weren't John, you were reading into the situation-if you were the one to invite me to dinner I probably would have had to do the same thing. If we're going to be friends we have to be on the same page right?"

He nodded, happy to have that over.

She took a sip of her wine, "And since we're going to be friends, how about I let you pick out a record-I never let people do that."

She pointed towards a record player that was stationed near one of her book cases on a small table, with a collection of albums organized under it. "Well, music does say a lot about a person. Let's see what this friendship has in store!"

It took John awhile to find an album to his liking. Her albums were only organized by color, nothing else-which made it a little erratic. All sorts of music, from classical to modern. In the end, as she was draining the pasta he had placed her Eric Clapton record on.

"Good choice!" She called out, mixing the noodles in a pan that had already been simmering a cream sauce with tomatoes, basil, and garlic.

"Interesting collection."

"Influence and an open mind helped my music collection." She told him, as she pulled a loaf of bread out of the oven. As a child it was all classical, even gospel-some of which she still had. As a teen she was left with the rebellion music, especially with her father who even put some of that music in her hands (much to his regret on the nights she was upset and loudly spinning discs in her room). Her twenties left her striving for her own self, which made the collection more erratic with hip hop, folk, and a few odd Gregorian chanting monk albums.

A few more minutes of chit chat and she had the food moved to the table, his beer exchanged for a fresh one, and her wine topped off-even tossing a strawberry in it for good measure. She wasn't always a drinker, but some nights it just seemed warranted to enjoy a good wine or beer.

"This is… a lot of food." John seemed a bit floored by the sheer amount of food she brought to the table, and to be fair she was too. It had been awhile since she cooked for someone. A salad, bread freshly warmed with dipping oil and herbs, the pasta with shavings of cheese on top, as well as artichokes with butter sauce to dip into.

"I...yeah...I like to cook."

She did, she loved it. It was relaxing, it had been a fun afternoon to cook with purpose for someone. She was serving him, it came naturally-she did it with her dad too when he was out of the workshop. John just looked amused, and happy-he looked happy. Less tired tonight compared to when she had bumped into him previously. "Thank you Maddie, really. This is great. Mrs. Hudson likes to cook for us on occasion too, but this is something that could come out of an Italian restaurant."

She beamed, it wasn't hard to tell that Maddie craved compliments-that were true, not the off hand 'oh you're pretty' comments. The real compliments that meant you spent time with her and could see her at her best, that's what she liked. It came from her childhood, and while her dad tried his best, she still was half starved for the attention sometimes.

"I'm glad you like it, I'll pack up some left-overs for you if you dare put them in your morgue." She poked fun, curling her legs under her as she sat at the table.

It was lovely. This was her first true friend, made by herself. Quite sad really if you thought about it. Sure she made friends, and had friends-but they were all due to her dad, even Mrs. Hudson. It didn't help that she spent the majority of the last couple of years just figuring herself out, therapy was her friend. Now she was out there, making friends. This was her dream.

She felt silly for crying the night before. Sure, she missed certain things from home, but this-watching as John enjoyed her food, laughing together-this was perfect.

Time had ticked by, as it tended to do. Plates were cleared and talk was made. It was fun to find out about him, he had been in the Army (which honestly was something she wouldn't have guessed), he had only moved in to his flat a few months previous, things about his sister, and stories about growing up. It was interesting.

She shared too, slightly. Her life as Maddie O'Brien could be whatever she wanted it to be but the simpler she kept it the better. Certain things were edited, but kept as similar as possible-Dead mom, cancer. Step-dad off doing who knows what (only a slight lie). Real dad came into the picture after the death of her mom. John didn't press, which was nice. Family talk was short, and most of their dinner conversation was spent sharing funny stories.

"Let me help, it's the least I can do." John had told her as she started to put left-overs in different tubs and prepped her sink to wash.

"How about I wash, and you dry. You can find out where I keep all my dishes so you can help yourself when you visit." A smile, she was warm and happy. Possibly some of that was the wine, but most of it was just being happy.

"I'm rubbish at washing, so drying it is!"

They were laughing and singing to a Duran Duran record that had been put on, dancing around the kitchen when Sherlock made his appearance. He didn't knock, he just barged in and walked down the stairs like he owned the place. Maddie and John didn't even realize he was there until John dipped her while they were both singing "Her name is riooooooo".

John nearly dropped her.

She could feel the doctor go a tad rigid, as if he was already working out ways to apologize to her for his friend just waltzing in. Sherlock was busy looking around her flat to really notice their dismay at seeing him.

"What are you doing here?" John was the first one to speak, while Sherlock continued to analyze. She wondered what he thought of her now, what he could deduce from her home. What did her choice of a chocolate almond torte on the counter, with slices half eaten say about her?

"It's almost midnight." Sherlock stated, frowning. As if he was unamused at the fact he had to explain himself.

Maddie was floored, dinner had started at seven, and between talking, drinks, eating, cleaning, drinks, dessert, dancing around...the time had went by quickly.

That's when it hit her why he came down-their music had been playing rather loudly. It wasn't soothing classical violin, it was 80s love ballads. She cringed slightly, "Sorry, we got carried away."

"I can see that." His eyes raked over them, lingering where John had his hands (all in appropriate places, as if she would even let him get near anywhere that wasn't-even as just friends). It was easy to see the conclusion that the detective was coming to.

John had moved away from Maddie, with Rio finishing in the background Sherlock moved to investigate her bookcases.

"Should turn this off, poor Mrs. Hudson having to put up with it." Maddie moved to turn the music off for the night.

"I didn't realize it was almost midnight, I'm sorry if I overstayed my welcome." John, ever the apologetic.

"Oh don't be silly, if it wasn't for Sherlock we would have probably lasted another three hours." She proclaimed with a smile.

"Why do you have these books? They should be in a museum or library, not...here."

Maddie blinked at Sherlock's sudden tone change, it went from annoyance to being kept up (or disturbed), to deep and menacing...over books.

She was that way too sometimes, but it didn't mean she liked the way he asked her. As if she couldn't have books. As if it meant something bad. "I work with them, that's why they are here."

"Told you Maddie's smart Sherlock." John said, the last of the sentence muffled due to him finishing off a piece of torte.

She smiled at that. At least someone saw her value.

"Data entry." Was all Sherlock said, his finger skimming the spines that were on display.

"Translation." Maddie countered back, a smug grin on her face.

"Suppose it could be considered a form of data entry if you're sending that information to a boss?" Sherlock turned, a smirk on his face-completely destroying her smug look. "I'm still right."

"Not about everything."

It was a staring contest. Passing moments as he looked at her, and judged her. She knew that was what he was doing-he wasn't just deducing her, he was judging her. Down to the very fabric she wore, to the blush on her face from the wine, to the slippers she had put on that had cow faces on them. It felt like hours went by before his blue eyes blinked away to look toward John. "Maybe you're starting to pick up on a few things, it seems you are correct in your view of our new neighbor."

Judgement, good? Did she pass? Maybe. John look floored. She wondered what Sherlock saw in her just then. It couldn't just have been finding out she translated old books to make him think she was smart. What was it? Certainly, wasn't getting tipsy and singing in her kitchen with John.

Either way she figured that it was a start.

Sherlock retreated shortly after admitting that John was right, and she was smart. Or at least, smarter than Sherlock initially thought. When he realized that she wasn't mad or put out, John smiled and shrugged.

"It's just how he is."

"I'm not too worried about it, I suppose when you're like him you wonder about people you share your home with...and your friends with." She smiled, a shrug. One last sip of her wine, finishing it off. It had been a nice night, interruptions and all.

"This was really nice." He said, they were reaching the awkward point of things-already agreeing to be friends, not like there was a coat for him to grab or for her to wish him a safe ride home. He was technically already home...just in a different part of it.

"We should do it again. I like cooking." And she did, she could easily see this becoming some kind of routine.

"Well, I do like eating. I will be down for those left-overs too!" He reached the door, she had followed him up the stairs to lock it after he left. "Maybe next time I can help you shop, or do something useful...I'm pretty good with a knife."

It was that last statement that stopped Maddie in her tracks.

'I'm pretty good with a knife' it repeated in her head like an echo.

Ignore it. Ignore it, she ordered herself-pushing down all those bad feelings.

It had been a good day, she wasn't going to let a memory ruin it.

"Then I suppose you'll be on chopping duty!" She chimed, which was followed by a yawn-the voice still echoing in the back of her head. It wasn't like John knew. Not like she planned on telling him, or anyone in her new life about what had happened.

I'm pretty good with a knife…

Deep breath, no toxic thoughts (something that her therapist had helped her with for years). She turned her thoughts to how great the night had been, how John was awkwardly standing in her doorway still, how he was inches taller than her, how fun it was to find out he enjoyed Duran Duran too.

"Well, I think it's well past our bedtime." She said, a cheeky grin on her face.

"I suppose it is. Thank you Maddie, truly."

"Anytime John!" One awkward pause, and a lunge followed-she hugged him. She was not a big hugger, and despite everything that had happened, it was men she hugged more often than not. Her dad, and her boss were usually the recipients of her touchy feely moments. Now John was too, possibly the wine, possibly how much fun the night was, or maybe it was because John didn't talk to her like he expected some kind of amazing genius. He just...talked to her.

It was nice.

Having a friendship...it was very nice.

And as she watched him vanish towards his own flat, she remembered one crucial thing.

She had to be up at 4AM the next day.

Wonderful.