Eye Contact *ON HOLD*

Broken Plate

Sherlock didn’t seem phased at all by the fact that he had met Maggie before, although she was very bothered by it. He simply walked up and grabbed her wrist, pressing two fingers to it as he checked her pulse, and then dropping it quickly when she cringed away. He then touched a bit of her hair, ignoring her reaction from thus on. She hated being touched, but she didn’t have the energy to do anything about it.

After observing her for a few moments, he stood straight and turned away, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Dr. Watson, what do you make of her?” he asked.

The short blonde man raised his eyebrows.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you think is wrong with her?”

Watson looked at the small woman who was leaning heavily on the table with her arm even as she was sitting.

“Uh, um. I don’t really know.”

“Well, you’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then diagnose her. That’s what you doctors do, right?”

The doctor just stared at the taller man.

Sherlock sighed. “Anytime now would do. But quickly.”

“Oh, um, right.”

The short man walked forward and pulled a chair over to sit near Maggie, who scooted slightly away.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he reached forward, taking her wrist just as Sherlock had.

“She told me it was, uh, Maggie, correct dear?” Mrs. Hudson asked. Maggie nodded once, keeping her head down.

“Alright, well Maggie, I’m gonna need you to look up for me.”

She didn’t want to. But the man was a doctor, right? Slowly, she forced herself to do it.

She looked up, but her eyes went anywhere but to his. She instead looked over his head, where she saw Sherlock moving about the kitchen behind Watson, opening cupboards and closing them, even opening Mrs. Hudson’s fridge and rummaging around. A toaster popped across the room and he hurried over to it, carrying a jar of some sort. The doctor turned at the sharp noise.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Sherlock stared at him. “What? It’s early morning, time for breakfast. Continue on.”

The doctor looked confused, and looked to Mrs. Hudson, who shrugged. Watson sighed and turned back to Maggie.

“Well, she’s extremely pale,” Watson said.

“Yes, I gathered that,” said Sherlock. “Anything else?”

“Let’s see…” he touched her chin and moved her head, looking at each of her eyes, although she never looked back. “Not on any drugs, from what I can tell. No dilation.”

Right at that moment Maggie’s stomach let out a loud rumble.

The doctor let out a chuckle.

“I’d say it’s exhaustion from hunger. Got any food she could eat Mrs. -”

“My thoughts exactly,” Sherlock interrupted, walking around Watson and dropping a plate in front of Maggie. On it were two pieces of toast with - was that strawberry? - jam and a few apple slices on the side. Maggie stared at it and Sherlock watched her.

“Oh, right,” he said suddenly. “How could I forget?”

He turned and swept around the good doctor and back to the fridge. He pulled out a bottle and set it before her as well. Milk.