Eye Contact *ON HOLD*

Homeless Network

Once the car stopped in front of 221 Baker street, Maggie said goodbye to Not-Anthea, who was still glued to her Blackberry. She wondered briefly what she was typing, but reasoned that at least some of it was to her boss, the mysterious man from the warehouse whose name she never learned. Most of the rest was probably information her boss needed. Maggie almost asked her not to tell her boss where she went, but it would’ve been ridiculous. The woman would have told him where Maggie was going immediately.

After exiting the vehicle, she approached the door to 221 and knocked lightly as the car pulled away behind her. It took only a few moments before Mrs. Hudson rushed to open the door, smiling at the woman there.

“Maggie, dear,” she said, pulling her into a hug. “I just got the news. You’ll be staying around now, huh?”

“What? How did you know that?” she asked as she entered the doorway.

“Oh, Sherlock was just talking with me about it, and, well, I believe we work for a similar party now.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “You're the good authority,” she said.

Mrs. Hudson gave a small smile, leading the girl into her kitchen. “Wouldn’t think of me as an agent, would you dear? But Sherlock knows. He always knows. And Mycroft’s just worried about him, really.”

“Mycroft?” she asked.

“Oh, that bugger. Forgot to tell you his name, just like he does everybody else. Anyone close to Sherlock ends up meeting him.”

Maggie nodded. “Where are they?” she asked, knowing that Mrs. Hudson knew whom she met.

“Oh, Sherlock’s upstairs, waiting on you I suppose, and John isn’t back yet.”

“Where is John?”

The older woman merely gave her a knowing smile.

“With Mycroft,” said another voice.

The women turned to see Sherlock standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He was no longer dressed in his jacket, but still had the black trousers and button up shirt on.

“He won’t take the deal,” Maggie said.

“Of course not,” Sherlock said. “He’s too loyal.”

“Pity,” she said. He nodded.

“I need to speak to you, upstairs,” he said, turning and sweeping from the room before rushing up the steps. 

Maggie looked to Mrs. Hudson, who nodded for her to go. “Shouldn’t keep him waiting, dear.”

The younger woman exited the kitchen and turned to the stairs, moving at just a bit faster than her normal pace. She reached the door to 221B and entered, finding Sherlock to be digging through a box on the coffee table. He didn’t give any indication that he was aware of her presence, although Maggie was sure he was. She took off her coat and hung it on a peg before moving to sit in Sherlock’s armchair near the fireplace, waiting. He would talk when he was ready.

There were a few moments of quiet, the only noises the shifting of papers and other items within the box as he moved through it, obviously having some amount of trouble finding whatever he was looking for. Finally, however, he wrenched his arm out of the box, pulling out a fresh box of nicotine patches, and a few papers that came out with it and drifted onto the table. Sherlock sighed with relief and sat back on the couch, beginning to open the box. He looked up at the woman watching him.

“Want one?” he asked, tipping the box toward her.

She shook her head. “I’ve never smoked, no habit to kick.”