Lorelin had been kept under as much security as possible for the week after Mrs. Hudson had been killed. Her mother had guessed that the gunman was supposed to aim for the teenager, but shot the landlady instead, receiving just the same effect on Sherlock, if not a larger one. Lorelin had to be dragged around to her parents' work place and try to entertain herself by drawing or staring at an electronic screen. There was always at least one person keeping an eye on her along with security cameras that could be viewed from Mycroft's office.
On the most recent day, however, Lorelin's step-uncle burst through the doors with his doctor by his side. She smiled at the two of them in greeting and stood up to follow them, as she was extremely bored by just sitting around. The secretary stood up to stop them, then realized who it was, sitting back down and rolling her eyes at the troublemaking brother of her boss. Together, the three of them walked straight into Mycroft's dimly-lit office.
"What must I do for you this time, brother dear?" He smiled sarcastically.
"Not much, just give me all of your information on Mrs. Hudson's daughter." Sherlock replied.
"Wait, you told me we were going to work on that whole thing with Moriarty." John turned to his partner.
"We are." Sherlock confirmed.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, brother, and why are you here?" Mycroft answered then pointed to Lorelin.
"Why not? You've given me everything else I've needed for my cases."
"I just can't-"
"Why not?"
"Her information isn't available."
"Then who took it?"
"No one took it, it's just classified."
"Oh, so she gets paid to spy on people as a side job?"
"I never said that-"
"Ah, but you hinted it. Thank you, Mycroft. See you next time we're forced to meet again." Sherlock ended the conversation and turned to leave the room.
Lorelin stayed inside, having to host a discussion with her step-father. The crime-solving pair exited the building as hastily as they entered it, returning to their home. They found Lottie cleaning the kitchen up a bit, pushing bottles of chemicals and whatnot around into one spot so she had space. John sat down at his chair and typed into his blog while Sherlock walked right over to Lottie.
"What are you doing?" He glanced over her shoulder, which was surprisingly higher than he would've expected.
"Oh you know, experimenting. Something I believe you could relate to." She said, pushing a section of long hair behind her ear.
He took a few steps away from her tall, thin frame. A few silent moments passed as he thought of which words would get his message across the best. The detective was planning on telling her straight-forwardly that he knew she was practically a spy, similar to Mary.
"Other than culinary arts and modeling, what do you do?" He began.
"Not much, I'm not very interesting." She replied, adding a teaspoon of what appeared to be cinnamon into a bowl.
"You don't go anywhere with friends?"
"No, I don't really have many."
"Ever gone shooting?"
"What? No, of course not."
"Well, maybe you would have with your parents' pasts."
"True, I haven't actually thought of it that way."
"You know, your responses are sounding quite familiar."
"Something like my mum?" She smiled, starting to zest an orange into the bowl.
"No actually, closer to a different woman we know. She always said she wasn't interesting, nor had many friends. Was a bit secretive too. But you couldn't possibly be like her."
"I suppose so. Who is she?"
"Mary Morstan." Sherlock smirked as John turned back in his chair with a glare on his face.
"Oh, I've heard her name! I can't quite remember where...I know my mum mentioned her a few times or maybe I saw her somewhere..."
"She was an agent."
"Like a travel or real estate agent or something?"
"No, more like a spy-type profession."
"Hmm, that's intriguing."
"Seems it would be, as you are familiar with her line of work."
"Wait, what? I don't do spy-work...?" Lottie stuttered slightly and stirred the ingredients in a mildly violent manner.
"Your files are completely classified and you give the same responses as any other agent I've ever met. You just quit early and became more interested in the culinary world to have a more normal life."
"How do you know?"
"You're aware of who my brother is, and I'm sure you know what I do. You aren't too difficult to figure out."
"Admirable that you managed to find all of that within less than 24 hours of meeting me. Fine then, that was my job for five years but I ended it after I had to watch an innocent person suffer to death." Lottie's voice raised as she put down her cooking utensils and faced Sherlock.
His eyes widened the tiniest bit in surprise at the fiery defense of her personality. She sighed and finished up preparing her dish, popping it into the oven after laying out portions onto a baking sheet. As soon as the oven door was shut, the tall blonde stood back up with hands at her hips.
"So what more must you know about me?" She scowled fiercely.
The detective was lost for words when her blue eyes met his in a glare. He would've replied with a snarky retort, but his mind couldn't find anything that would work well for his situation. And maybe because he didn't want to say something rude to this girl. She had been nice to him and he partially spoiled it by releasing the fact that she had been a spy out into the open between them. Once the silence had lasted for a minute or so, Lottie rolled her eyes and tidied the area she had been occupying while the detective stood clueless for once. It was such an unfamiliar feeling, and he didn't like seeming outsmarted by her. Or anyone, for that matter.
