The Schizophrenic Housekeeper

Chapter Six: Puzzles

"For the last time John, I am not upset," sighed Sherlock in exasperation as they made their way back to 221B by cab after dinner.

Shortly after they left the last victim, John insisted they go out for dinner. Normally, Sherlock would dispute the dear doctor's attempts in forcing food down his throat while on a case. Digestion has an annoying habit of slowing down his thinking, but this time he obliged. Not because he felt guilty or apologetic for disappointing John and ruining the man's image of him. Sherlock could care less what people thought of him. The only thing that mattered was the game, the mystery.

John provided such a puzzle on acting so amiable and considerate after screaming at him barely an hour ago for his lack of empathy. From his experience, after upsetting someone to that degree, they usually stay away for him for at least a day if not more. Yet, John seems to be back into good spirits and dragging him to dinner of all things. Somehow, he's convinced Sherlock's sulking because of what the last victim said.

"Come on Sherlock," said John in amusement. "I know you're upset."

"Why would I be upset over something so mundane?" scoffed the detective with a roll of his eyes as the car came to a stop in front of their flat. "You've heard far more derogatory insults hurled at me before. What's different about this one?"

"True," John grinned as he dug out the correct amount to pay the cabby. "Scotland Yard does have quite a colorful selection of insults when it comes to you, but no one else ever called you slow."

"Very presumptuous of you John," muttered Sherlock as he hopped out of the cab, not bothering to wait for the shorter man before he strode to the door.

"How is that presumptuous? Who else calls you slow?" asked John in puzzlement as he hurriedly caught up with him.

"…Mycroft," scowled Sherlock as he took notice of the door knocker's position in its right place. He had left the knocker slightly crooked before they left earlier.

"Not surprising, sounds like something your brother would say," agreed John as Sherlock pushed the door open and stormed into the building.

"Clearly," muttered Sherlock before halting in front of the steps with narrowed eyes.

No light upstairs

Mycroft's not here

"Sherlock?" asked John in confusion when he made no move to go upstairs.

No sound coming from 221A

Mrs. Hudson's not there

Why?

Sherlock's eyes drifted to the side hallway leading towards their landlady's flat before deciding to turn his heel and making his way towards 221A. However, before he managed more than five steps, he noticed light peeking through the frosted windows to the door of padlock was gone.

"It's open?" said John in puzzlement when he came close enough to see. "Is Mrs. Hudson downstairs?"

Possible, she does have the key

Considering the shoes, so does the bomber

Too conspicuous, goes against the bomber's MO

No signs of struggle, not an intruder

Without a word, Sherlock cracked the door open slowly as to not make a noise. There was someone else in the building and he doubted it was the owner from Speedy. Of all the places she could bring the man, 221C and its decrepit state was unlikely one of them. Not to mention, Mrs. Hudson was not so imprudent about her relationships.

Conclusion, she has a new tenant

Strange of Mrs. Hudson to give a tour for flat-hunters at this hour

Something's different about this one

"It's a bit run down, but if you fix this up while you live here, I'll waive the first two months of rent until you get you get yourself back on your feet," offered the landlady, her voice barely reaching the top of the stairs from the room below.

Financially unstable, but handy in house repairs

Hardly a strong defense

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, he needed more information. He glanced to John briefly and the man reached into his inner pocket to pull out his gun at the ready. Without further discussion, Sherlock opened the door fully and made his way downstairs. At the sound of his steps, Mrs. Hudson stopped talking and peeked her head out from the other room.

"Oh Sherlock! You're back! Come greet the new tenant. She's a lovely girl," said Mrs. Hudson cheerily as she waved for him to come down. "Said you've met before."

"Did she?" noted Sherlock with a frown before a familiar figure, draped in an orange blanket, stepped behind Mrs. Hudson and raised her hand up stiffly as though she was in school waiting to be picked for an answer.

"Sup?" greeted the short woman in a nonchalant drawl.

"It's her!" said John in surprise at the top of the stairs as he tried to discreetly put away his gun. "The victim from the case!"

"It's me," agreed the woman with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hi, again."

"Sherlock, what is she doing here?" asked John in confusion.

Aside from the color returning to her previously chilled face and blue lips, nothing of note changed on her person. That in itself was telling.

"What happened at Scotland Yard?" asked Sherlock, his frown deepening as he glanced to the former victim. "The nerve of Mycroft dropping you off here. What does he think this place is?"

"How did you know something happened?" asked John curiously.

"John!" sighed Sherlock in exasperation before pointing to the woman. "She's an American, the moment Lestrade was done with her, she should've been handed back over to her countrymen. There's no reason for her to be here. Yet, here she is. Ergo something happened and prevented her from going home."

"Yeah, but what does this have to do with your brother?" asked John in confusion.

"Mycroft being his insufferable self, sees fit to stick his nose in because he thinks of her as a liability. He only dropped you here because he already has surveillance set up in the area. Correct me if I'm wrong," challenged Sherlock as he eyed the former victim.

"Sherlock," chastised Mrs. Hudson. "Don't you think the poor girl's gone through enough already?"

"Please," huffed Sherlock with a roll of his eyes. "If she hasn't cracked from being kidnapped and nearly dying, she's not going to break down crying now."

"You know I can just start crying to spite you," suggested the woman cheekily.

"But you won't," scoffed the detective.

"Touché," noted the woman.

"Now tell me, what happened," grounded out Sherlock.

"They can't find me in the system," she shrugged. "No identification or paperwork of any sort, anywhere. Your brother thinks my kidnapper wiped me from the system, probably for shits and giggles, but eh… what can I do?"

"And… that's enough for him to think of you as a liability and put you here?" asked John.

"No," sighed Sherlock in annoyance as his glare intensified. "Did he pay you to spy on me?"

"According to him I make a bad spy." She dismissed with a wave of her hand. "But he did say he'd hire me to be a distraction and potential bait. Not sure how, but considering who you are, breathing is probably enough to annoy you."

"Clearly," groused Sherlock before he paused in thought. His pinched brows relaxed and an amused grin crossed his lips.

"No," said the former victim sharply at Sherlock with a glare as if he was a misbehaving child. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" asked John as he glanced between the two of them in confusion.

"He's—" the woman paused. Her eyes glazed over unblinkingly, no doubt distracted by the voices in her head before she rapidly blinked her eyes from the dryness. "Never mind, he's just doing the 'I found something interesting' look. Harmless, I supposed."

"I am not!" snapped Sherlock, affronted by her words.

"Yes you are, dear," chuckled Mrs. Hudson as she gave his arm several playful pats. "Nice to see you getting along with the new tenant."

"You call this getting along?" said John, flabbergasted as he swung his finger back and forth at the two. "This?"

"Oh don't act so surprised. How many people do you know that could stay in the same room with Sherlock for more than ten minutes without wanting to punch him in the face?" said Mrs. Hudson merrily before reaching out to take both his and Sherlock by the arm and dragged them towards the stairs. "Now, why don't we let the nice girl get some rest?"

"Before we do that," interrupted Sherlock as he slipped out of Mrs. Hudson's hold and towered over the short woman with his hands behind his back. "Why were you haggling with Mrs. Hudson regarding rent, if Mycroft decided to put you on his payroll?"

"Technically not on his payroll yet," replied the woman with a shrug. "I'm on probation or something along those lines. Kind of stopped listening to him after five sentences, so I can't say I'm sure."

"Hmph, unsurprising," droned Sherlock as he took note of the woman's eyes losing focus. Her brows pinched in concentration, no doubt listening to the voices in her head before exasperation crossed her face.

"…Look," sighed the woman in reluctance as she focused her gaze back onto him. "We both know I am broke as f. I don't know if your brother will actually hire me and pay me to do whatever it is he thinks I can do. With my lack of paperwork, it's going to be a while before I find a place that's willing to pay me under the table. So… I don't know, maybe for a little while, I can be your housekeeper and the payment could be food or something."

"Strange choice in payment," noted Sherlock with a raised brow. "I'd imagine cash would be preferable for most people."

"You can pay me in cash if you like," shrugged the woman and waved her hand in an absentminded gesture. "Just thought it'd be easier on all our wallets if I cooked and we shared the food. It's cheaper to buy ingredients in bulk rather than take out and the bonus, it's healthier."

"How considerate," drawled Sherlock.

"Hey, I'm trying to give everyone a fair deal here," countered the short woman. "Just because you like to be an asshat to everyone you meet, doesn't necessarily mean they have to return the favor. If you don't want to make the deal just say so, no need to be a condescending prick about it."

"Except it's not your deal," refuted Sherlock, startling the shorter woman. "Everything about you up to this point showed glaring signs of conditioned docility. It makes no sense for you to suddenly act so brazenly. I noticed your eyes lost focus a moment ago, which meant you were no doubt conversing with the voice in your head. Therefore, this deal is something it came up with, rather than you. I'm not inclined to trusting voices in other people's head."

"If it's any consolation, she likes you more than your brother and the kidnapper," offered the woman flippantly.

"Why?" frowned the detective.

"I dunno, why do people normally like you?" asked the woman.

"They don't," disputed Sherlock.

"Not including the voice in my head, I seen five people who likes you in short time I've known you," reasoned the woman. "And all of them seem likely to kick my ass if I did anything to you."

"Who?" frowned Sherlock before John rolled his eyes and pulled the taller man back by the arm.

"We'll hire you," interrupted the doctor as he dug out his wallet and pulled out Sherlock's credit card.

"What? When did we agree to this?" demanded Sherlock in bafflement, but his protests were ignored as John handed her the card.

"…You're just going to give me his card?" said the woman in disbelief.

"Like you said so yourself, there are dangerous people worried about this idiot," said John with a tight humorless grin. "And you're going to need some basics to start with. I'm sure you know how to spend in moderation."

"…I'm not sure if you're threatening or trusting," said the woman in puzzlement, but accepted the card by clamping hand hands over it through the blanket.

"Obviously far too trusting," muttered Sherlock.

"You're one to talk," countered John with a snort and shot the taller man a challenging gaze.

"Get a room," grumbled the woman as she waved the card flimsily.

"W-what? We're not—" spluttered John as he went into his usual denial of the implications between their relationship.

"Don't care, just give me the name and address of the closest thrift store and grocer and you'll have it back by the end of the day tomorrow with a fully stocked fridge and pantry," dismissed the short woman. "Any food you like or dislike in particular."

"Dear, this honestly could wait until tomorrow," chided Mrs. Hudson tenderly as she rested a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you come up and take a nice shower? You can sleep on my couch until you get a properly furnished."

"Sure, but before that, can I borrow a phone? Detective Lestrade made me promise to give him a call before the end of the night," offered the woman. "I was going to ask the woman that brought me here, but she left as soon as she introduced me to Mrs. Hudson."

"…Anthea," murmured John in a knowing nod. "Yeah, she does that."

"I've noticed. So… phone? Please?" asked the woman.

"Um… right, I have his number," said John as he fished out his phone.

While he did so, Sherlock used the moment to study John. By now, he's used to the man's caring nature. Yet, somehow the dear doctor still manage to surprise Sherlock again and again. At his conversation with the victim, John sounded almost…

Protective

No, not just protective—

Protective over… me

Sherlock blinked at the conclusion as he took in John's awkward neck scratching and curious head tilt when he noticed him looking.

"What?" asked John as he lowered his hand, oblivious Sherlock's observations.

Sherlock glanced back towards the victim still on the phone. Her brows knitted tight, he could see the amount of effort she expended in order to pay attention to Lestrade on the other end. There's nothing of importance he could gather off her person, so for now she's no longer a person of interest.

"I'll leave you to the domestics," said Sherlock absently before he turned his heel and made his way back up the steps. No point in wasting any more time on her when there were still two pips left with the bomber.

Author's Notes: Um… I was binging 12 seasons of Supernatural… and then started time-lining Supernatural and Sherlock to see if a crossover could be done reasonably. Turns out the best time to do so is the end of Season 4 of Sherlock and between season 12 and 13 of Supernatural. Debating should it be its own story or make it into a sequel for this one when the story's over. Food for thought. Thanks for reading!