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SHERLOCK SCANNED OVER the flight of stairs before him with a dreaded stare. His eyes darted back and forth from the bottom step to his Oxford shoes. There was still time to back out, but Sherlock decided not to take the chance. He dragged his feet down the staircase and descended to do his part of Mycroft's deal.
He hated listening to Mycroft's advice, especially when he knew he was right. It was further proof that he couldn't make good decisions for his welfare, and his best choice was coming from a man who had complete control over the government but couldn't even maintain his weight.
But that's not important at the moment.
Just as he approached the bottom step, he heard the clicking of a pair of heels.
"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson pulled Sherlock into a hug. He stiffened, but he returned the embrace nonetheless.
"I'm sorry if─"
"Look at you," her wrinkled hands cupped his freshly clean-shaven face, "you've finally taken care of yourself after such a long time, dear. You smell like lavender. You even combed your hair."
"Thank you . . . ?"
"I thought you'd never come out of there," the landlady dressed in black and red pulled away, "I was beginning to worry that you'd be back in the state you were in when John first left. Going out for a case, I suppose?"
"No, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock shook his head, "I'm going to go see the new girl."
Mrs. Hudson gave Sherlock a look. "Well, that's unusual."
"Mycroft told me to."
"That too," she pointed out, "well, she's lovely. She loves to paint, that's what she does for a living. Poor thing didn't have a lot of money when she moved back here from Italy, but Mycroft talked me into what he had in mind for you both. It's been quiet since John left and it's good to have a breath of fresh air."
