A/N: Thanks to the amazing reviews of my last story (and too much time on my hands), I plan on starting a bit of a series, showing how the two's relationship changes. Not sure when I can get to the next chapter in this one- but I do plan on writing/uploading it fairly soon. Thank you! :)

Side note: I have no idea what to rate this yet, so I'm making it K+ for now. May change later on.

A sigh escaped the lips of Jenny Flint as she stared up at the cream colored ceiling. 'Another day of chores' she thought as she clambered out of bed. Moving slowly, she found her way to the armoire that stood in the corner of the small room as her hands pulled the two large walnut doors open. She didn't dislike her new position of a maid. No, in fact she decided quite the opposite. She enjoyed living in the grand house that occupied 13 of Paternoster Row, even if it did mean living with the odd scaly woman who had saved her life not three months prior. Sighing again, she pulled out her white blouse and black ankle-length skirt, setting them aside on her bed. Still groggy from her unforgiving mattress, she moved on to the wash basin, pouring some of the crystal clear water into it and splashing her face a couple times in a vain attempt to wake herself up.

Madame Vastra, her employer, kept a strange schedule. Most of the day, she would bask in her conservatory, looking over pictures and notes from what she had explained to be cases from Scotland Yard. However, sometimes, she would just plain vanish. Usually, she would mention a word or two about following a lead before her strange disappearances, but other times she wouldn't leave so much as a note. As a chambermaid, it was Jenny's duty to tend to the house and the needs of her mistress, but never to question. This had been made very clear upon her arrival.

"As you may or may not know, I am an investigator working separate but in collaboration with Scotland Yard. Occasionally, I agree to private hires for matters that my clients do not wish to go to the authorities. It is critical that you do not comment on anything that goes on in –or out- of this house. To be blunt, the less you know, the better. Information can be as deadly as a knife. This rule exists for your own safety, and I trust you understand. Do you agree to these terms?"

A ring of a bell sounded, shaking Jenny out of her memory. She knew that sound. It was yet another thing that the Madame had trained her for when she took the position. Whenever she heard that bell, she was to report in the dining hall. There were other bells for other rooms, of course, each with its own pitch. It was mighty confusing at first, but with a little practice Jenny had not only improved her ability to distinguish bells, but just about everything else you can audibly separate. Hastily pulling her hair into a taut bun and slipping on her uniform, she bounded from her room behind the stairs and into the place her employer had summoned her.

"Good mornin', Madame." She greeted, dipping her head to the woman as she stepped in the doorway, trying her best to look as if she hadn't just woken up.

"Good morning, Miss Flint," The latter replied, setting down the rather bulky book she was reading, "I have no reason to leave the house today, so I will be taking my breakfast in here."

"Of course, ma'am. Would you like the usual meal, then?"

"Yes, I think that would do nicely. Thank you."

With another quick curtsey to acknowledge the dismissal, Jenny started to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of thick, red liquid. Opening her mouth to inform the Madame of the progress of her hard boiled eggs and porridge, she was interrupted by four loud knocks originating from the back door, shaking a good part of the house. The sound was an aggressive one, powerful in its implicated fury. It alone was enough to send a chill down the most steadfast man's spine.

The women exchanged glances, both clearly startled at the sudden intrusion.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I believe someone may be at the door." Jenny had said in grim humor, trying to mask her mild worry.

"Indeed…" The Madame trailed off.

Jenny sat down the glass she was carrying in front of Vastra and hurried her way to the back entrance. Once it was in view, her pace slowed dramatically. The silhouette of a man bore through the frosted window pane, and although it was impossible to fully see through either side, she had a growing suspicion that that man -whoever he was- was staring right at her. The hairs on the back of her neck began to rise as she reached for the handle, and she was filled with a sudden sense of dread. It overcame her like a tsunami to a fly, washing over her and trying to convince her with all it's might to run. To hide. To wait until whoever, no, whatever was awaiting on the other side of that door had left. 'No', she reasoned with herself, 'don't be daft. This man probably just wants to ask Madame Vastra to take up a case. Didn't want to be seen so 'e used the back entrance. Of course. T' all makes perfect sense.'

She swallowed the last of her fear, forcing it to go away just as fast as it had come before turning the gilded knob and opening the door to face the increasingly ominous man with whatever courage she could muster.

But she needed none.

No one was behind the door.

Jenny blinked, unbelieving the absence of the shadow that had so thoroughly made its presence known. Cautiously, she craned her neck, scanning the area of the porch and garden for any signs of the man who she was sure was there only a moment before.

"'Ello?" She had called, stepping onto the wooden porch to allow herself to better search the yard, "Who's thare? This ain't funny!"

No one answered, and with a final glance around, she shook her head, muttering about the neighborhood kids. She scoffed at herself for being frightened and turned around, once again moving into the dining room after shutting the painted door behind her- locking it tightly.

"Well?" Madame Vastra looked up at her expectantly, "Who was it?"

"I don't know, ma'am," Jenny blushed back, a bemused smile falling across her features, "reckon it was one of them neighborhood boys. 'Eard they're into knockin' the door then runnin' off. No one was out thare."

"How strange." The Madame commented. Her facial expression was a paradox of casual interest and boredom.

Before she could inquire, Jenny piped up. "The eggs'll be done in 'bout twenty minutes. Would you like your porridge early?"

"I think not, thank you, Jenny."

"Of course." And with that, she left to finish her mistress's breakfast.