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One Less Lock to Pick

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Okay, this was getting ridiculous. This being picking the lock to Sherlock’s front door. The whole exercise was tedious and bordered on ridiculous and she shouldn’t have to break in. Even if her skills at getting past this particular kind of deadbolt had improved dramatically.

Improvement was beyond the point. She felt inconvenienced, especially because she was certain he was inside in the front room staring at the collage above the fireplace. He had to have heard her out here.

Of course, it’s not like she’s given him a key to her place, has she? Not that he couldn’t break into hers if he took notion. Maybe it was just the principle of things, as far as they were both concerned.

“Sherlock still not given you a key?”

Joan turned at that just as the lock turned free, surprised. Kitty stood at the bottom of the stoop, hands tucked into the front pockets of her coat.

“No,” Joan answered, sliding out the picks and tucking them back into their leather case. “He has not.”

She tried not to frown, but she felt it on her face.

Kitty smiled, ever-so-slightly. “He doesn’t trouble much with the ways of convenience or practicality of others, even his friends.”

“You noticed that?” Joan gave a wry smile. “At first I thought this was some sort of punishment, but I’ve come to the conclusion that he just hasn’t thought about getting one made for me.”

Joan shrugged and pocketed the leather pouch back into her purse.

“Well, lucky for you I know how much normal people like having a key,” Kitty said, climbing the steps to stand beside Joan. She pulled a silver key out of her pocket, reaching it out to Joan.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Joan said taking the key and smiling at her.

“Whatever,” Kitty shrugged.

“Thank you,” Joan said, smiling a little, appreciating Kitty’s thoughtfulness.

“Besides, this way, it will be easier for you to pick up Clyde.”

“Or at least save you from coming across town with him,” Joan allowed.

“He seems to like the subway though,” Kitty said, wistfully and like she wasn’t talking about Clyde at all. Joan imagined that it could be nice to be faceless on the subway, just someone else avoiding eye contact.

“You know, you’re welcome over anytime, right?” Joan asked. “And not just on errands that Sherlock sends you.”

“I do now,” Kitty gave a mock salute as she opened the door for them both.