Fade Into You
Rating: R
Notes: Okay, a few weeks have went by since my last update. I got sick, then my husband was sick, so writing was not on the schedule. This chapter is one of the last before we see "The Great Game" start up. I will state again that it's going to get pretty dark. I can't write non-stop fluff, I like fluff but it can't be all I write. This chapter also totally took me by surprise with the way it ended. Enjoy and review! :D
Chapter Four: Sleeves
Maddie fell into a routine, one that was nice to have after the hectic lifestyle of being a Stark. Even with Sherlock around to sometimes drive her crazy it was still routine. In the last two months her life consisted of daily work, self defense on Tuesday (with Natasha only missing two weeks and her replacement being a large burly man named Clyde), Book club on Wednesday night where she didn't really make friends with anyone, but there had been good discussions at least (and the coffee shop did have really good muffins). Sometimes Sherlock would text her (per her rules) to let her know he was going to use her flat for his work, after the first time she never asked for a reason and he never gave one as to why he couldn't use his own flat. She assumed it was partially to give John a break (although she figured Sherlock would never admit it) and partially because he was curious about her.
Over the last two months John had spent a decent amount of time in her flat as well, mostly she figured because he liked her cooking, and also liked to get away from Sherlock. It was like she was a halfway house for the boys, when one was annoying the other, one of them would come down to visit with her for awhile. She didn't mind, it worked its way into her routine just fine. Most of the time when it was John that would visit he would storm into her flat (after checking with Mrs. Hudson and making sure they knew her ground rules she decided to let them have keys, mostly because it seemed like EVERY single time they knocked she would trip up the stairs, and that had gotten old fast), usually it would be after he finished his shift and he would be mumbling about just wanting a quiet night in.
It wasn't too hard to give him a quiet night in, she didn't mind it. For someone who had striven for her own independence away from her Dad she didn't seem to mind catering to her friends. Secretly (and of course she would never admit this) she really did love having them drop by, even when Sherlock would text at 4AM saying he would work at her table that morning. Usually when it was just her and John she would cook dinner, he would tell her about his day, about his girlfriend Sarah, and they would watch television together. Occasionally he would fall asleep on her sofa and she would tidy up, do some work, and eventually end up on-line. Most of the time he would wake up after an hour or two, say he was sorry and excuse himself. Only once he slept the entire night, in an awful position that made her feel bad for his neck.
When Sherlock swung by, it was less social. He would text her, at ANY hour and let her know he was going to use her space. Usually it was an ungodly hour and she just texted back a simple okay and went back to bed. He'd bring his own tea down, but would occasionally eat with her if she was making food. He would sit on one side of the table, and she would work on the other, translating. When he was being social he would ask her about her work, inquire about the language, and seemingly test her knowledge. Even fewer times he would ask her opinion on what he was doing, and seemed surprised when she answered back with intelligence.
It was nice, she was enjoying life. Even Mrs. Hudson would come down for tea sometimes, and one Sunday they did a bake off together, making all sorts of cookies (biscuits...she'd need to get used to that), cakes, and even a torte. It had been fun.
She would admit though, that she was pleased to wake up on a dreary day with no texts from Sherlock, no loud banging upstairs, and just the sound of rain hitting her windows. It was a Friday, and even though her work wasn't structured she still felt like Friday was a day to celebrate. End of the week, ready for the weekend. Maddie laid in bed for awhile, snuggled up in her blankets, and spending time figuring out how her day would go. Spend the morning working, send a request for more work since she had nearly finished translating most of the books she came to London with. After that she figured it would do her well to head out to the shop and pick up a few things, with it being so dreary she figured comfort food would be needed for dinner. She also had to pick up a gift to send back home to Pepper, her birthday was coming up.
Getting out of bed she decided it would be good to remind her dad.
Mads: Pick up something for Pepper, her birthday is next Thursday.
She didn't expect him to text back right away, morning for her was in the middle of the night for him. So wrapping herself up in a fuzzy robe she headed to the living room to get some work done.
When her phone buzzed an hour later alerting her to a text, she already went through two chapters of new material, had three cups of coffee, and was slowly working her way through a bowl of oatmeal. It was all very classy she was sure, her pajamas had robots on them (funny Christmas gift), she was now using the fuzzy blue robe as a blanket, and she knew for a fact (because she could feel it) that one side of her hair was a rats nest. Of course, being so classy meant that the text was not a response from her Dad but a text from Sherlock.
SH: Down in five.
She never minded if John burst into the flat, maybe it was because he was like an older brother. Sherlock though, she didn't like not having any warning. She tried to tell herself it wasn't some kind of crush that was starting, and that it was because she just didn't want him snooping around at all hours (at least she knew John wouldn't barge in at three in the morning). She tried to tell herself that she didn't just get up from her work to go brush her hair and change because he was coming down.
By the time she heard her door unlock she had combed her hair up into a messy bun, changed into a pair of well worn jeans with holes that had been patched up with lace, and a sweater that only an old lady would love. When he walked down into her flat, even though she tried to clean up her appearance for him, she still had a spoonful of cold oatmeal going into her mouth. It was okay, she didn't have a crush.
"Good morning Maddie." He didn't give any reason to be down there, but he did have a plastic bag that looked oddly like it was full of blood in one of his hands. He was doing his best to conceal it, he might have come off as being uncaring to others, but he at least seemed to respect her. She didn't have a high threshold for "body ick" as she put it to him so intelligently, and ever since she had told him that, he took care to at least try and hide some of the more obvious "body ick".
She swallowed the cold oatmeal she had shoveled into her mouth before she spoke, "Heya Sherlock. What are you working on today?"
He set his microscope down on the table across from her, which already had a few of his things (which just seemed to pile up over the last few weeks, even with their agreement that he wouldn't leave things down in her flat). "Acids"
Of course he wouldn't say more on the subject. Sometimes he didn't. Respectful didn't always equal friendly with Sherlock.
She just shrugged, and went back to her own work ignoring what he was doing with the blood across the table (although at least he was trying to be discreet).
It was less than fifteen minutes later when he spoke up again, "Has anything strange happened?"
She frowned, that was a weird question. "Uh, no? Like, what kind of strange?"
"Black cars and a strange man."
She blinked. Well, okay then that was a really off the wall thing to bring up. She wondered if he came down just to ask that question.
"No, I can't say that I've seen any." She wanted to add, 'unless I count you as a strange man' but that seemed too mean for her, even though it was a joke.
He nodded and that was that.
Until ten more minutes went by, "I just find it odd I suppose."
She looked up from her work, wondering what he was going on about. Clearly he had something on his mind. Apparently it had to do with strange men in black cars. Weird. She wondered if it had to do with a case.
"He contacted John in very short time of being in my company, I just don't seem to understand why he hasn't contacted you."
"Who?" She asked, now she was starting to get worried. Sure, she knew Sherlock and John ran around trying to solve murders and mysteries, but she didn't think it would end up with her getting involved.
"I consider him to be my...nemesis."
Of course, leave it to her to go from one man with a ton of Nemesis(es?- was there even a plural for that?) to another. Great. "Sherlock you're starting to scare me."
And that seemed to bump him out of his thoughtfulness, her being scared. "My brother had kidnapped John and tried to convince him for money to...report back to him on me." He explained, "It's just odd he hasn't done the same to you as well."
She couldn't help but laugh: brother. Okay, that kind of made sense. Sibling rivalry probably seemed like having a nemesis sometimes. "Oh, okay see that's better. I thought you had some kind of maniac after you."
He paused for a moment, but she didn't think much of it as she continued on "Unless your brother has video of the inside of the house I greatly doubt he knows we're even in contact that much." She shrugged and took the last congealed bite of her oatmeal. "I don't even think we've been seen outside together."
He nodded at that, and she wondered why it was bothering him. Perhaps he thought she did have a run in with his brother and she did accept the money. "Why is he wanting to keep tabs on you anyway?"
"Too many reasons to count, I'm sure."
And that was how he left it. For a few more minutes anyway.
She heard his phone go off, and shortly after he was asking her if she would WANT to be seen outside of Baker street with him.
Odd question.
She didn't know how to answer it. The day had went from her working, to musing about a possible crush (harmless, Sherlock wasn't the type to date-and she wasn't either-although that didn't mean she couldn't think he was handsome right?), to being asked about being a spy for his brother, to being asked to go out somewhere with him.
What?
He seemed to read her mind, or at least her expression. "That was St. Barts, I have some experiments going on there and thought you may be interested in accompanying me."
Her mind clicked, "And you want to see if being out in the open draws your brother to talk to me?"
He smiled, it was a wide smile, as if greatly pleased she understood his motives. She did, she understood a lot of his motives since day one.
"On one condition." She followed up, and he tilted his head with question as she was already starting to put her work away-as if she knew he'd say yes to this condition.
"Which is?"
"Don't take this as me agreeing to be a John when John isn't around." It sounded strange, but she knew he understood what she meant. She'd go to St. Barts with him, hoping his experiments didn't involve too much 'body ick' but that was it-she wasn't about to run around town solving cases with him.
He nodded, but still questioned "Why not? You're a curious person, I can tell - you look over my notes when you think I'm not paying attention and you get John to tell you about his stories from our cases."
She was bundling up with her coat,as she tried really hard to figure out a way to put it. It wasn't until Sherlock was by the door with her that she figured out how to put it as she was using him as a balance beam while putting on her shoes (much to his distaste). "There is a difference between asking about stories and getting that stuff first hand. I don't thrive on the action like you two do. I'm horribly passive. I know it must sound very dull to you, but I thrive with my books, with being behind the scenes."
"When you talk like that." He said, still oddly putting up with being held on to while she pulled her other boot on. "It makes it seem as if you've been apart of the 'action' before."
Before she knew it, she had went from holding on to him to Sherlock holding onto her wrist. She looked up at him, he was a great deal taller than her. "Perhaps I just know a lot of people who like action and I'd rather refrain from their lifestyle."
"Perhaps…" He trailed off, and she realized what he was doing only moments too late. Not only had he been taking her pulse, but his hand was slowly moving to push her sleeve up. By the time she noticed what he was doing her sleeve was halfway up her arm.
He frowned.
"What exactly were you expecting?"
"Nothing, forget it-there is always one thing that I'm wrong about."
He obviously wasn't expecting nothing, but he did pull her sleeve down, and moved away from her-already heading up the stairs presumably to grab his coat so they could be off without another word from her on that odd moment.
She wasn't dumb though, she knew what he was looking for. He nearly got it right when they first met-it wasn't an abusive boyfriend. It was an abusive step-father instead. She knew he was looking for some kind of reason for her to wear sleeves all the time, he had the drive to just KNOW everything about those that surrounded him.
The problem for Sherlock was Maddie had been very translucent with him-sure she wanted the odd friendship with him and John-but she also knew if she tried to hide herself and what she was like he would dig too deep. She hadn't been aware her always wearing sleeves had been a concern for him.
Maddie breathed a sigh of relief as she followed him up the stairs-because he was right to look under her sleeves, he just didn't push it high enough. While she could make up a lie, maybe even admit it was a previous boyfriend who had hurt her (even though she really never had a boyfriend before in her life) it was better in her mind that he didn't know she was ever hurt. That way he wouldn't look at her any differently.
Maddie was broken and glued back together by bits of therapy, a real Dad who did love her, and now good friends-and she didn't want Sherlock hammering at her new happiness. So she just breathed, smiled at him as she found him tugging his coat on in the foyer. "What were you wrong about with John?" She asked, all while trying to hide how shaky he had just made her.
"The drunk brother actually being a drunk sister."
And that was that.
Busy. That explained his life. Always so busy. However as he stood in a corridor of St. Barts he looked like he had all the time in the world. It was ever so hard to keep an interested and amused face plastered on as he listened to the dark blond prattle away. She was nothing in the grand scheme-which ultimately made her the best starting off point.
"Listen I have to get back to work, I have a few people on my wait-list to have their computers looked at...but…" He sang song, the lies dropping off his tongue-it had been ever so easy to pretend to work there. "Would you like to grab dinner tonight? We can keep this lovely conversation going then."
She smiled, of course she would-surrounded by dead people all day every day-she was going to jump at the opportunity. "I'm off at seven."
She gave him her address and they bid farewell. Had she been less trusting, had the building had fewer people on staff, she might have noticed that he didn't even work there. Everything worked to his favor though, and it looked as if he had a date that night. Wonderful.
As he was heading out his phone started to ring, a smile crossed his face. The beauty of technology was assigning ringtones, truly. He could have a ringtone for every single contact he had-which really did make life easy for him. In this instance he had a feeling that his afternoon (after fumbling around with a computer in the Morgue of St. Barts) was about to get a lot better.
"Almost fifty days." He said into the phone, pausing in a secluded corner.
"The information was well hidden. Didn't want to waste your time until there was something...amazing."
He smiled, biting his lip and rocking on his heels...oh yes, this would be good.
"Amazing? How amazing?"
"We know who she is, and how you can use her against him."
"I wasn't under the impression that they spent a lot of time together."
"It's amazing what you can see when people don't close their blinds at night. Looks like they are quite comfortable together working side by side in her flat."
Oh God...this…was...good. It was hard to deny the pleasure of knowing everything was better than he could have imagined it.
"So they spend time together...that I can work with later...now tell me before I get impatient-who is she?"
There was a pause and a deep breath on the other side of the phone which made him clench and unclench his left hand while waiting. This could be an interesting turn of events after all. Early on with all the construction at Baker Street then the appearance of the small women he had wondered if she inadvertently would join the game or if she would be boring. People usually are so boring.
"She's Madeline Stark, Tony Stark's daughter."
With his clenched fist he hit the nearest wall and gave a bark of laughter. Not boring at all. No. He might not have known a bunch of information about Tony Starks daughter-but he did know the man himself. How could he not? The crowned prince of weapon making turned into a man in a robotic suit flying around and saving the day? Oh, this was going to be good.
"I want every single piece of information you have on her sent to me within the hour."
And then he hung up.
"Oh...this is just going to be so much fun."
Things were quiet on the way to St. Barts and he was still trying to figure her out. She was quiet, and it wasn't because of the awkward moment near the staircase (which really he only took advantage of having a look at her arm because she was rudely using him as a human balance beam). She was quiet because she knew he didn't like frivolous conversation. She made no attempt to talk about the weather (dreary and cold), hunt for more information on his brother and family (John was always so curious about his parents "I just want to know who raised you and your brother, all I can think of is a stern librarian."), nor did she engage in being prepped over what to expect at St. Barts.
Out of the corner of his eyes he could see her, looking out the window, watching buildings pass and occasionally twisting her neck in an ungodly manner to see something better that had caught her interest. It was that which made him truly enjoy her company.
She was curious about the world, and could easily figure things out about situations and people too. Perhaps not as good as him, but if she put her mind to it and studied she would make for a great detective-yet she didn't WANT to. She actually requested not to be dragged around, not to be involved in the hunting of information and spending time at crime scenes. He actually found excuse after excuse the last few months to spend time at her flat simply because it was easier to work on some projects around her instead of John. She left him alone, if he spoke or asked a question she would reply. She stayed quiet and mindful, but also had the authority of being the owner of the flat-she would still watch her dreaded panel shows if she wanted to, would still disappear into the bathroom for an hour to take a bath and laugh (her laugh sounded like a cross between a giddy child and a goat) at whatever comedy show she decided to bring in with her. If he was there while she was making food, she wouldn't offer him any-but a plate always appeared next to him regardless. Sometimes he would eat it, sometimes he wouldn't-and she wouldn't put up a fuss.
Most of the time when he was there she would just work. Work for hours with her head buried in an old book, scribbling in a notebook, and occasionally complaining of a foot falling asleep (no matter how many times he told her how easy it would be to avoid having that happen).
And now what? With a fast (and ill thought out) idea he decided to bring her to St. Barts. He wanted to see if his brother would try to contact her (after all why wouldn't he? Sherlock in the company of a woman?). Maybe partly he just wanted to get out of the flat but still be in her company. She smelled good. Maybe he was just getting soft, first John, now Maddie, what was next-friendship bracelets?
They arrived at St. Barts with little fanfare. She slid out and was busy looking over the building while Sherlock paid the driver. "So this is where you and John disappear to?" Maddie asked, looking back at him as he came to stand behind her. It was a trivial question, and she seemed nervous.
Probably due to all of the 'body ick' that was in the hospital.
"Sometimes. Mostly when he is with me, if we come here it is very briefly while a case. Usually I come here to work on theories, preparation is key when it comes to how the body works in regards to certain situations."
She nodded, and allowed him to move past her to lead the way into the building. He took his time with his strides, there were cameras everywhere-multiple ways for his brother to be watching. Sherlock wanted to give him a good look of the women he was with. He was curious what Mycroft would do, his older brother went to extremes with John-and he was curious how Mycroft would be with Maddie.
Once they were in St. Barts, it was a mad house. It usually was quite hectic, but easily avoided considering where he wanted to go usually lacked a large population of live people. He felt a tugging on his coat, at his lower back, it was Maddie holding on as if worried to lose him in the crowd.
He rolled his eyes, he would never understand that panic-the panic that set into some people over hospitals. Sherlock wondered if this would be worth it, if dragging her along (and dealing with her own neurosis) was the best idea. If he really wanted to get his brothers attention he could have just taken her out for dinner.
But that would have been tedious, he was sure.
One more busy corridor to get through, then they would be at the morgue. He reached around, detaching her hand from the fabric of his coat and keeping his hand wrapped around hers.
"Sorry, I thought I was over this." Maddie said, sounding more annoyed at herself than the situation. Once he was holding her hand and leading the way, she seemed to keep up with him.
"Not a hospital fan?" He inquired, not quite interested but curious.
"My mother...it was cancer."
He remembered something then, she had told John about it. Long days spent in the hospital keeping her mother company. She was a teenager when it happened. Why did he keep that information in his head? He thought back, remembering that night-she had made some kind of Mexican dish (quite spicy if he remembered) and John and Maddie talked while playing Scrabble. It was so mundane, he was going to have to force that memory out of his head-it was far too...domestic.
But, looking back…
That had been a nice night.
"I'll be okay though, just bad memories. I'm interested to see what kind of projects you have going on here." She smiled at him, and he could see she was trying to push out the bad thoughts of her past and stay positive.
They were almost to the morgue when they ran into Molly. She looked as if she was just getting back from lunch. There were wrinkles on her lab coat from where she had been sitting on it in the cafeteria, a few crumbs stuck to the top of her shirt, she had yet to re-apply her lipstick-it was partially missing from using a straw to drink from.
"Oh h...hello." She noticed them before he had a chance to say anything. Her smile faltered a little bit when her line of sight fell on their hands. He was still holding onto Maddie. He hadn't even realized that.
"Hello Molly, came to check up on the projects I started yesterday-this is Maddie my downstairs neighbor, Maddie this is Molly."
It was a rather dry introduction, but it caused Maddie to drop his hand and shake Molly's hand. He clenched his empty hand for a moment, having to remind himself that he had only been holding onto Maddie's hand out of distaste for her attaching herself to his coat.
Sherlock Holmes certainly didn't like holding her hand…
Or did he?
The e-mail told him everything he would need to know about this women living at Baker Street. It only took a few moments for him to know what he would do, how he could add her in to the ongoing game already. It was just going to be so much fun. He had a new player involved, and if he played his cards right he would have another pawn working in his favor. It would just take some work.
There were several hours left until his date with Molly Hooper, which was the perfect amount of time to set his new plan in motion. He was re-reading the e-mail as he dialed out, the phone rang for an unfortunate number of times before the voice on the other end came on, "Hello?"
"Busy? Is this a bad time?" It was sarcastic, this man was paid to be at his beck and call. It didn't make him happy to have the phone ring so many times before it was picked up.
"No sir, sorry." They had a tentative agreement that was always bulging at the seams. He didn't like Sebastian, and Sebastian didn't like him. However they both had similar interests and alignments and at the end of the day Sebastian worked for him...barely it seemed. It was a bother. Eventually he'd probably have to get rid of him.
"You have a flight to the states booked, tomorrow at four AM. The details are on their way over to you via messenger. You're going to be working a jail break."
"Not my usual line of work." Sebastian stated, but the tone gave away his interest. While he did have his...independent thoughts sometimes, he truly was in alignment for the excitement that came with criminal activity. "How does it affect our...current events?"
OUR?
He rolled his eyes, and pursed his lips. Was it worth it to go off? No. Not when he was about to send Sebastian to do something rather major and a screw up would cause a ripple in the waters he didn't want to have happen yet. Calm. 1, 2, 3.
"It plays into what is coming up, on more levels than was originally thought. It will all be there in the package."
"So it's a break and grab? What's he in for?"
"Oh the usual, statutory rape, attempted murder, embezzlement."
There was a long pause, and he decided to add the icing on the cake; "Oh, and he's a preacher as well."
"Lovely. I'll be in contact."
"Be sure you do, I don't think I need to remind you what will happen if you fuck this up."
He hung up the phone, glancing at the clock. Still time to kill before his 'date'...joy.
Maddie found that being in the morgue was different than she had expected. She didn't have the sense of dread in there that she had in the rest of the hospital. It didn't even feel like a hospital. It was nice.
For the first hour or so, Sherlock actually engaged her-questioned her, and showed off his projects and ideas. It reminded her of her father showing her a new suit, or robot. Then...he got engrossed. Something was going unexpected with one of his projects, which meant he tuned everything else out.
Molly who had originally seemed standoffish took pity on her and started conversation, "He gets like this here...with everyone." A soft smile, looking over to Sherlock, then back to Maddie. "How long have you…?"
"Oh, I've been living at Baker Street for the last three-ish months." She had been sitting next to Sherlock, but with the new conversation starting she moved over towards Molly. "But I would say I've known Sherlock for the last two months, he tends to use my flat as a makeshift lab I suppose."
It was quiet for a moment, and Maddie shifted her weight from side to side, "So how do you like working here? It seems nice and quiet."
"Oh it is." Molly said with a smile, "I like that though, I can kind of do my own thing and take my time with what I need to."
"That is nice, I translate books-so I can do that on my own schedule which is lovely."
Maddie started to pick up on something, Molly kept looking at the clock. It was a small and insignificant gesture, but she had enough experience with doing the same thing growing up during concerts or practice. The dart of the eyes to the clock, keeping the head forward and engaged, but really just wishing time would pass by faster.
"Am I keeping you?" She had to ask, maybe Molly was just being nice, but wanted to leave and didn't want small chit-chat.
"Oh." Molly blushed, a small smile on her face, "No, no-sorry, I just usually run late and I need to be on time-I have a date tonight." The smile told Maddie that this wasn't something that happened often. Maddie could relate.
"Oh, fun! First date?"
"Yes, he's from IT-was down to fix my computer earlier."
Maddie smiled, "That will be fun, what are you going to wear?"
Molly frowned a moment, "I'm not quite sure yet, as it's rather last minute-I told him I was off at seven, but I'm actually heading home a lot earlier-no idea what's clean and what's not."
The rest of their conversation was spent talking about all the ways Molly could wear her hair or make-up, it was interesting. It reminded Maddie a lot of when she would talk to Pepper. By the time Molly was leaving, they had made plans for the following day to grab dinner together and talk about how the date went.
Of course ending the conversation meant that she was left alone with Sherlock who didn't seem like he was going to come out of his head anytime soon. She pondered all of her options, but in the end she decided that instead of sitting around twiddling her fingers she would go to the shops, pick up a few things, and head home to make dinner.
Instead of saying goodbye she just wrote a note on a scrap of paper that had been in her purse. "Heading back to Baker Street, thanks for having me out." and left it nearby him on top of his coat that he had flung onto a chair. No reason to disturb him for such a trivial matter, he wasn't the type to request she stay, and she wasn't the type to sit around with nothing to do.
After leaving St. Barts, once she was out in the open she wondered about Sherlock's brother and their relationship. The way he talked made it seem like she would be abducted, but also he spoke in such a way that made her seem like it wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen. It made for a slightly paranoid trip to the shops. Once at the shops she kept looking over her shoulder, was that his brother there hiding behind the bananas? Nope, just a shop boy. "Calm down." she told herself as she tossed some onions into her basket.
She was contemplating if waffles would be a good idea for dinner when her phone went off. She shifted her basket (which was already over-flowing) and plucked her phone from her jacket pocket.
Dad: Should I get her a horse?
Mads: Are you insane?
Dad: Yes.
Mads: No. Just get her a really nice necklace, maybe some flowers, she likes romantic gestures not barnyard animals.
Dad: That's no fun.
Mads: Well it's not your birthday.
He stopped texting after that, and she figured he ended up getting preoccupied. She finally did decide that waffles should be for dinner and tossed some syrup into her basket before heading to the check out.
It was all very normal but not normal. She came to London wanting the normal simple life with a group of friends and ended up making friends with a man that enjoyed looking at slides of fungus at her kitchen table. It certainly could have been worse, both friendship and life wise. She was happy, her life finally seemed to have direction and friendships. Finally seemed like she could leave her past behind her and have her own life.
It was nice.
A week and a half had flown by. In that week she heard nothing of Sherlock's brother (perhaps he didn't think she was useful or something), she had gone out with Molly for dinner twice (listening to her talk about Jim quite a lot), and didn't see much of John due to his blossoming relationship with Sarah who seemed...nice. Just not...for John. Maybe she was reading too much into it though.
There was one crucial thing that Maddie forgot to realize. Her life, as it had always been had seasons. It would be good for awhile, then very bad. Or moderately okay and then somewhat bad. Things always popped up. In her teen years she imagined what life would be like if she was one of the people who just had a good life, where nothing bad ever happened. She wanted that life badly. Sadly she thought she currently had that life, thought that the move to London had some how changed her fate.
It was Wednesday and she was getting ready for her book club. They were reading 'The Night Circus' which had actually been a quick and fun read for her. She had spent the last two nights curled up on the sofa reading, while occasionally listening to thumping from upstairs (she didn't even want to know what that was from). She was in the middle of putting her boots on when there was a knock at the door. It was a hard and heavy knock and made her frown.
Sherlock didn't knock, he assumed texting her would be considered his version of knocking.
Mrs. Hudson's knock was light, had a rhythm to it.
John always did three light knocks and then entered-assuming she was aware he was going to stop by, if not it was three light knocks then waiting for her to call up "come in".
This knock was heavy and foreboding. Maybe she was just still paranoid from last week with Sherlock. Her stomach flipped in circles. She finished sliding her boots on, and took a deep calming breath before she headed up the stairs.
Halfway up she realized she was being silly, it was probably a delivery she had to sign for. Or maybe something else, innocent. She rolled her eyes at herself, slightly annoyed by her own thoughts. The betrayal over how quick she became paranoid.
However, when she opened the door she nearly fell back down her stairs, her paranoia in this instance seemed to have real merit. Thanks to her stepfather she had a fear, a deep baseline of "If I make a mistake I'm bad, something is wrong and there will be punishment." her heart started to thud, because there was only one reason those two men would be standing at her door...she did something wrong. They weren't the 'social visit' type, and if something happened to her Dad they would have sent Pepper or even Natasha.
"Hello Agent Coulson, Agent M-this is a...surprise." She tried to keep the stuttering out of her mouth. She actually deeply liked Agent Coulson, he was a good boss, if it wasn't for him showing up with Agent M she probably would have hugged him and happily greeted him. But Agent M (who was her direct supervisor while she lived in London) was a very stern faced man who always seemed like she was the last person he wanted to see. Maddie suspected he thought she would be like her Dad, unruly and obnoxious.
"We need to talk." Was all Agent Coulson said, and Maddie had to stop from throwing up on her shoes. Her translations lately had been spot on, there was nothing she could have done wrong...right?
She nodded and simply turned around, leading the way downstairs. Her narrow staircase wouldn't allow them to go first, so she just let them follow her. When she was down in her living space her eyes darted around, making sure there wasn't anything out that was bad (ie: wine next to her translation books). To be fair since Sherlock and John kept coming over she kept her place tidy, no bras on her bookshelves, no four day old plates on the coffee table. It was clean and cozy.
"Um, would you two like anything to drink?"
Dumb question, neither man did. It was weird, having your bosses at your house. It suddenly became THEIR space and not hers. Her table was fairly clear, so they would sit there. It looked like a meeting where they would need to sit, or maybe just have her sit and loom over her with scary frowns.
Coulson looked more concerned than anything else, she had known him since she moved in with her Dad. He was the one that got her involved in SHIELD. He was like some strange uncle who could turn into a boss at the drop of a hat. Agent M didn't look upset either, but he looked around her flat with distaste and seemed to fixate his gaze on the few things of Sherlock's that had been sitting in the middle of the table (Something she meant to get after Sherlock about).
"Science project?" Agent M asked, brows raised.
"Um, friends stuff." She explained, there was never any sense in lying to her bosses. They were trained to see through it, and quite honestly she was a shitty liar (which was why pretending to be someone else simply meant sticking CLOSE to the truth vs making up extensive lies about being an orphan or something).
Agent M looked amused for a moment but it went away, his stone sour look plastered back onto his face, "I think I'll let Agent Coulson explain why we are here. Considering I don't think it's something useful."
"If you didn't want to come you didn't have to." Coulson snapped back, irritated. She wondered how long they had been together that day. She had only met Agent M twice, and those two times were when she was first in town getting used to her life, they met to talk about how to submit her work and what to do if she found herself stuck with a translation. She had a tour of his offices, and was lead to believe that he was a horribly high ranking man in the British government-much the way she figured Nick Fury was in America. The, "Sure I don't RUN the country, but I RUN the country." type of way.
"I have my reasons." And then he busied himself looking around her flat, in a way that made her want to tell him to leave-but she wasn't that much like her Dad, not yet anyway.
Coulson sat down next to her, in a way that concerned her. Too much like an uncle, she wasn't in trouble for her work, but something happened.
"What...just...tell me, you're kind of freaking me out." Now that Agent M was busy she didn't feel the need to be insanely formal.
"Well, two things…" He started, and he looked at her for a long time as if trying to decide which would be best to hear first. She fully understood that this was a good news vs. bad news situation. The good news seemed to win, "Your work is being really well received, we have something that came up and we're going to have to switch gears from just translating what you have on hand to working on an active project. We'll be sending a lot of books, texts that we have on old Norse life. We want to see into that, see what their writings may tell us."
She frowned, Norse? Really? She had done a few texts before on that, but to focus on that solely for awhile for an active project? She hated active project translating, there was always too much to do. And Norse wasn't her favorite, they tended to use Elder Futhark writings and it seemed to all blend together page after page. Fun.
Okay so that was the...good news? Seriously. She knew he didn't come to tell her that only. He could have sent her an e-mail to let her know she would be getting more books for an active project.
"Sounds lovely."
She wanted to snap, 'get to the point' at him but held her tongue. Instead of watching his face while he tried to figure out how to tell her the bad news she glanced at where Agent M had ended up, he was thumbing through her translation notebooks. Thank god she didn't keep a diary, he would probably sniff that out and sit down to read with joy. There was a thump from upstairs, and it was shortly after that where she heard her phone go off.
No. No...no no no no no...that couldn't happen. She couldn't reach and look at her phone considering she was in the room with her two bosses. Her heart was thumping a mile a minute, and all she wanted to do was go to book club. Sherlock, even if he didn't get a response text would just burst in to do whatever, even knowing it was book club night-that wouldn't stop him. Hell, he probably spent hours in her flat when she wasn't there.
Maybe it was John, or her Dad, or Molly even texting her?
Please don't be Sherlock.
Please don't come down in the middle of her little pow-wow with her bosses. Not that he would gather much from her bosses being there, but he WAS Sherlock and he would dig.
"Maddie, I want you to not think the worst possible outcome." Yeah, Coulson knew her. It got her attention back on him. It kept her stomach doing back flips.
"What?" Maybe it was her Dad, maybe they wouldn't send someone else. Maybe her Dad finally pissed off the wrong people who were stronger than he was?
"There was an incident at the prison where Connor is."
A deep breath, maybe he was dead? She could hear the staircase creaking upstairs. Please don't be Sherlock coming down. Please.
"There was a lot of confusion, and we're still not clear on what happened-a lot of guards were killed."
No. Please don't. Don't say anymore. Stop.
"There are a few men unaccounted for, some were picked up not far out of Cottonport…" He spared a look over to Agent M who finally tore his gaze out of the notebook. She didn't know him enough to read the current look on his face, maybe he was worried too. Probably just worried to lose the best translator they had. Coulson grabbed her hands, his were warm, hers were cold and starting to get clammy. She wanted to pull away. "We thought to tell you before telling your Dad, if you want him to know at all...you know how he is...there's a lot going on and starting up, if we tell him this he'll be obsessed."
She was crying. She could feel the wetness leaking out of her eyes.
"Connor hasn't been found. We think he took the chance to escape during the incident, nothing is pointing that it was to get him out-rather a man who they picked up in Cottonport. He'll probably just lay low a few days then someone will find him."
Her heart was going to explode. This couldn't be happening. Why did people always feel it was good to share things like this? If they really thought that he was just going to be found later why did she need to go through the mental anguish. Her logical mind told her the following:
If the breakout was meant for someone else, then fath...Connor just took his chances.
He would be found in short order, but in case the information somehow found it's way to her before hand-Coulson wanted her to know.
She had moved around with Tony the last ten years. She spent time in Malibu and New York City, and she lived in London as a different person-Connor was smart but not smart enough to find her-especially after being out of touch for ten years locked away in prison in Louisiana.
Just because she had a logical side didn't mean her emotional side wasn't winning. It was her biggest fear after all, for him to escape. She had a superhero for a real dad, but he hadn't been there when it mattered. He was a superhero for other people-not her.
"A lot of people are looking for him, it's going to be okay."
"Why are you telling me?" She wasn't looking up, she was looking down at their feet. Her dark and scuffed Doc Martins, his horribly expensive looking leather shoes. Their hands wrapped together, her nail polish peeling, his nails perfect.
"Just in case we're wrong and he isn't found."
And that's when she heard the front door click open. Coulson heard it too and shot up from his chair like he had been a coiled spring. She meekly said, "I think it's just my friend."
And that was how Sherlock found them. He had file folders tucked under one of his arms, he looked like he had been fidgeting a lot-his clothes were slightly wrinkled. It took one look over the room for him to figure out he walked in on something very strange. Maddie was sitting at her table in tears (she could only assume her face was red, and could only hope there wasn't any snot yet). Agent Coulson was standing next to her, hand on his service weapon ready to shoot if it wasn't a friend coming in. Finally Agent M, smirking over by her sofa looking like the damn cat that caught the canary.
Agent M was the one to speak.
"Hello brother."
Wait...what?
And there we have it, the end of this chapter. Hopefully it was worth the wait. Not the most exciting chapter, but that one is coming. Some end notes to clear up any possible questions:
I don't mention his name as we see him going about his day, but it's pretty obvious that I'm talking about Jim Moriarty right?
Sebastian Moran for me is played by Michael Fassbender which seems to be head cannon for a lot of people. I'm still not sure if he's going to have a bigger role than simply "evil dude that works with/for Moriarty".
Connor is her stepfather, that hopefully was obvious. He's going to play a semi-big role coming up, for me he's modeled after Gerard Butler if it matters to you. The prison he is housed at is a fictional prison in a fictional town (which was made up by True Detective, I just borrowed the town is all).
Hopefully it's not too upsetting that Maddie isn't interested in going on cases with Sherlock and John-no worries she'll still have interesting stories and plot points I just don't see her as the type to enjoy a good ole' fashioned crime scene.
Yet again, the tumblr for this story is at (no spaces): thefadeintoyouuniverse . tumblr
And lastly, thank you for reading. I'm not planning on having this be a masterpiece of art but it's fun to write and create-and I do take thoughts into account if any reviewers have any ideas. :)
Thanks!