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A sharp, frantic knock echoing through the Brownstone snapped Sherlock out of his latest experiment. He removes the paint brush from Clyde’s back discarding the thing next to the various jars. It was an ongoing theory of his whether or not he could have a tortoise paint and push it off as “art”. A theory he developed after a rather eventful gallivant to a local art museum with Watson. Needless to say the night ended in bitten cheeks and clipped conversations from both parties.
As he made his way he made half the mind to grab his single-stick. The knock didn’t sound particularly aggressive. To be fair if they were anyone posing an immediate danger they wouldn’t knock. He settles for the abandoned ice pick lying idle from a different failed experiment earlier in the week. He slides the metal smoothly up the sleeve of his jacket before swinging the door open.
“Can I help you?” He asks. The woman standing in the door is of short stature, just barely coming to his chin even in her boots. Her red hair is disheveled and the bright red lipstick drastically clashes with her rumpled appearance. Definitely in distress but not clearly safe. He discards the ice pick into his back pocket just in case. He learned long ago not to misjudge a woman, especially by height alone. He had to get his nose reset by Watson twice that week.
“Are you Sherlock Holmes?” Her voice quivers with the tone. Not confident in her assumptions.
“Yes. You are?”
She seems to hesitate for a minute before answering, as if debating her response, “Dylan Saunders.” She finally answers. “I’m looking for Alex Munday.”
“I’m not familiar with the name. I apologize you must be looking at the wrong place.” Dylan stops his the door before it closes.
“No I talked to Agent Quinn. You said you’re Sherlock Holmes. You attended the bar Down the Rabbit Hole two years ago on a case.”
“She knows what she’s doing.”
Recognition flashes in his eyes for a brief second and he almost misses it as she continues.
“He told me to get with the NYPD and I did,” She digs something out of her pocket before holding it out to him. It’s a rather old picture, the coloring has gone slightly yellow. “Detective Bell pointed me here.”
Sherlock takes the photo from her fingers analyzing it. Upon first observation he can tell it’s three women holding burgers to their mouths caught in the moment. He recognizes the red headed woman, Dylan first. Next the blonde in the middle with her other fist to the sky, seemingly the only one noticing the camera poised on the three. But on the far left really sends his eyebrows to his now growing back hairline. A familiar looking woman sits with a small smile on her face gazing at the other two… Joan.
“Detective Bell must be mistaken. I don’t recognize this Alex woman you’re looking for. Only Watson.”
“Watson?” The woman asks.
“Joan Watson, yes.” He holds back the photo to her, his finger hovering above Joan’s face. “Did you work together at the hospital?”
“Hospit… No!” Dylan is visibly frazzled now. “That’s Alex!”
“Watson!” He shouts visibly startling the woman. “Come in. She’ll be down shortly.”
Dylan hesitates before stepping inside. She seemed to analyze his every move as he guided her into the living room. She sits first, eyes falling on the painting lying in the floor. “You paint?”
“No, Clyde does.” He says nodding towards the tortoise who was slowly making his wake across the floor to their new visitor.
“May I?” Dylan asks, motioning towards Clyde. He nods giving the right away. Carefully the woman lifts him into her lap allowing him to crawl with free range. She softly strokes his shell and it seems to ease her anxiety a little.
“Sherlock?” His head snaps up with the footsteps that pad down the stairs. Joan’s glasses are still perched on the edge of her nose, obviously had been reading before his interruption. She’s wrapped in her comfy red cardigan and a pair of pajama shorts. Likely had been lounging all day since there were no cases reported as of yet. He’d even let her sleep in this morning. “Did Gregson call?”
“Alex.” Dylan smiles discarding Clyde on the couch.
“Dylan…”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Joan steps into the living room slowly allowing herself the time to take in the scene in front of her. Dylan was walking towards her, arms extended in a hug. She looked distressed but relatively unchanged despite five or six years without seeing each other. She spies Sherlock next, perched on the armchair with his eyes trained on the two of them. The look in his eyes sends chills down her spine. It’s that look she’d seen many times but rarely had been on the receiving end of. Utter distrust and betrayal echo in his gaze shattering her heart yet captivating her at the same time. It’s as if he’s realizing how little he knows of her past all over again.
“Alex.” Dylan laughs, tearing now gathering in her gaze as she wraps her arms around her. Joan returns the fierce hug without hesitation. She’d regretted losing contact with them both but life had taken over. They’d all gone their separate ways years ago. Just barely a few months before she’d met Sherlock. They came to a mutual agreement that they didn’t want to be apart of the agency without one another. Dylan got a gig with the CIA, Natalie was pregnant with her first child, and it was just shortly after the accident for herself. They all went their separate ways.
“Where’s Nat?” Joan asks pulling away. “Is she here?”
“No. She’s home with Pete.” Dylan says shaking her head. “But that’s why I’m here.”
“‘Cause of Nat? Is she okay?” Panic edges into her voice. She’d only said she was home. “Is Pete okay?”
“Someone took Charlie.”
Joan’s heart quickly falls to her stomach. “Nat’s Charlie?” Bile builds in the back of her throat. She hadn’t seen the little boy since she’d held him for the first time. He’d been aptly named due to the man that had sent them on the mission where Natalie had met Pete. It wasn’t hard for them to agree. “Who would take him?”
Dylan now passes her the phone with an image of a room pulled up. It looked nearly the same as any other six year old boy’s room. Dark blue, a Spiderman poster on the wall, toys lying askew all about the floor. However one thing was glaringly off.
You did this Angels.
The bright red spray paint stains the walls an ugly mix. She spies the signs of struggle now. A clear path from where someone had been dragged or pulled, books knocked from the futile fight, a broken photo not far from the window.
“Oh my God.” Joan whispers.
“We need to go.” Dylan says. “It’s time the Angels reform.”
“Will someone kindly explain what’s going on!” Sherlock shouts bringing attention to himself. His eyes are red rimmed in his aggravation. “Watson?” He asks. “Or should I call you Alex?” The name is spit with a venom she’d only heard him direct at two people: Mycroft and his father. Her heart feels a new sort of damage when it’s twisted her way. A damage beyond shattering.
“You never told him did you?” Dylan asks.
“Sherlock I can explain.” Joan speaks calmly taking a step towards him. He flinches away from her as if she’s burned him.
“How much of it was a lie?” She wants to cry at the utter betrayal in his tone. He’s just as heartbroken as she. “When were you going to tell me?”
“My name is Joan Watson.” She utters as she did a million times before. “But I wasn’t a doctor.” He turns his back to her now. She’s not sure if he’s hiding his tears or hiding from hers. “I graduated at the top of my class in medical school but at the same time I worked for a man named Charlie. I was a spy by the name of Alex Munday.”
“Dear Christ.”
“Please Sherlock you have to believe me.” Joan pleads now. “I know it sounds ridiculous. Dylan and Natalie were my teammates. You claim you’re only unable to read two people to detect lies. Ask Dylan.”
He spins around now, as hard faced and shut off as she’d met him. “Why? Why not tell me?”
“I-”
“Alex we need to go.” Dylan speaks up now. “Nat needs us and I’ve got a pilot already on wait.”
“I’m sorry Sherlock.”
“No you don’t get to leave in the middle of this.” He argues.
“Her son is missing Sherlock! I’m partially at fault for this I need to go help.” She snaps at him. It’s the first time she truly has in years and it only amplifies the hurt that his eyes betray lying beneath the stone persona.
“Then I’m coming.” He asserts.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You can’t.” She begins.
“Don’t be absurd. A child is missing and we need all of the deduction skills we can get our hands on. I’ll call on Mrs. Hudson to care for Clyde while we’re gone.” She parts her lips to argue but she realizes it’s pretty pointless to do so.
“Let’s go.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The cab ride was eerily silent besides the incessant tapping of the sole of Sherlock’s shoe as he bounced his leg. It was like that the entire way to the airport where apparently Dylan had a plane waiting. Sherlock made quite a show of taking an opposite end of the plane as the two women made their way into the cockpit. Joan sits herself in the copilot’s seat securing all of the necessary equipment on herself.
“Still remember how to fly?” Dylan teases lightly in an attempt to ease the tension in the air.
“Like riding a bike.” Joan quips back automatically. They fall into a steady rhythm setting up for flight. It was like they’d never separated…
“So… Who’s the guy?” Dylan’s flipped on autopilot spinning around to face her. Not good.
“He’s my co-worker.” A pointed look brings Joan to roll her eyes. “I met him a few months after I left. I became a sober companion and his father called me. Now we work as private investigators for the NYPD.”
“You’ve never liked local police.”
“Marcus and Gregson are different. They’re good.”
“And who are they?” Joan glares at the woman.
“Oh come on! Far as I know, you’re the only angel not in a relationship. I gotta maintain some of my sanity in this whole mess.” Dylan frowns.
“You’re in a steady relationship with someone who’s not a bad guy?” She smirks.
“Turns out all I needed was a good girl to balance it out.” Her head snaps around quickly staring at the redhead next to her.
“How long?”
“About 2 years now. I met her while on a case in Hawaii. She moved to Washington when she got put on witness protection. Guess we had something in common.” The smile on her lips is brighter than Joan’s seen in awhile. She reaches over squeezing her friend’s hand.
“I’m happy for you Dylan. I hope I get to meet her.”
“I hope so.” She grins. “Cause now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
“I count on it.” Joan laughs. Dylan sighs shifting in her seat uncomfortably. She knows what’s coming. “No.”
“Alex… We need to talk about what happened.”
“No we don’t.” She insists.
“It’s not your fault.”
“We’re not talking about this.” Joan pushes.
“Why are you pushing me away again? It’s been five years.”
“I’m not talking about this now.” She sighs pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to will the image away.
“Does he know?”
“Barely.” Joan sighs. “He thinks I was a surgeon. I already had my medical license so it wasn’t hard to keep up with the lie.”
“I mean your dad did for how long?”
“Seven years.” She smiles slightly at the memory. “Sherlock couldn’t know what I did. I didn’t want him ever to. That’s why I used an alias for my name. I created Alex so the people around me wouldn’t get hurt because of me. Now look where we are.”
“You should really talk to him.”
“And say what?” She scoffs. “I’m sorry I’ve known you for five years and you had no idea I was an American spy for a guy whose face I’ve never seen. I’m sorry I let you believe you were teaching me how to defend myself when I know seven different ways how to kill a man with nothing more than a paperclip and a piece of string.”
“Hey you have to admit that was a fun op.” Dylan laughs for a second. “I see what you mean though.”
“Sherlock isn’t the same as anyone else. His ex kind of turned out to be a crazy murderer he was hunting for nearly a year. He discovered this years after she faked her own murder.”
“Whoa.”
“I’ve ruined it all.”
“Joan… go talk to him. It’ll be rough but he cares about you. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been that hurt by the truth.”
“Don’t call me Joan. That’s weird.” Dylan laughs shortly. “You can still call me Alex.”
“Okay Alex. Go.”
“Thanks…”
“Anytime.”
She finds Sherlock sitting at the back of the plan computer opened in front of him, no doubt with hundreds of articles opened being read in less than five seconds each. He hears her approaching, she can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Not sure whether to remain still or to run. Joan takes the place across from him. His eyes flicker up to her with doubt filling them.
“What do you want to know?” This catches his attention. He closes his laptop meeting her eyes now.
“Why?”
“I didn’t want anyone to be hurt. The only time I was Alex was around Dylan, Nat, and a few choice boyfriends I met on assignments.”
“I could’ve handled it.”
“I couldn’t.” He frowns in confusion now. “I did kill that man. He didn’t die on my table though. Nat and Dylan were chasing down a man that had planned an attack on a senator. I was guarding him… I spotted the man and he was about to take the shot. So I took mine… I missed.”
“Watson…”
“I hit a civilian. He was just walking to work, that’s it. Completely innocent and I killed him.”
“Joan.”
“You have every right to be angry Sherlock. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.” She whispers just barely loud enough for him to hear.
He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, not fond of emotional moments. “I am angry. I thought you trusted me as I do you.” She could feel his eyes on her, analyzing her. It’s painful but she deserves it. “I wish you’d have told me sooner rather than finding out this way.” He grabs her hand snatching her eyes to his once more when she could no longer take the disappointment filling them. “I only wish for you to be honest with me Watson. We are partners are we not?”
“We are.”
“Very well. Now I would like to hear about the time some mysterious women saved Mount Rushmore.” He says with a raised eyebrow. A tiny smile etches at her lips. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Rather a desire to learn more. To learn the truth.
“As you wish.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
They landed in a field somewhere in Georgia. The landing strip was relatively abandoned amongst the expanse of plants around them aside from a lonesome building at the edge of it.
“I’ve got a car waiting for us inside the garage. Follow me.” Dylan explains leading the way. The silence was more comfortable than before but still unbearing. Dread mixed with a little bit of fear filled both of the women as they inched closer to the city.
Joan spies the blonde as they pull up on the street. She’s standing outside alone with her arms wrapped around herself in some way of self protection. She has to keep herself from launching out of the car as soon as they slow down. Once she’s positive they’ve come to a stop she’s running out to comfort her friend.
“Nat.” She whispers wrapping her in a fierce hug.
“Alex.” The other woman mumbles back burying her face in her shoulder. As she pulls back she can see Natalie’s eyes are red rimmed from tears, her nose bright against the sun as well.
“Where’s Pete?”
“Inside talking to his parents. I insisted that he go and stay with them until we’re sure it’s safe.” She nods understanding. Suddenly the woman’s eyes grow hard and her stance defensive as her gaze falls behind her. “Who’s that?”
She spins around and sure enough Sherlock is already combing through the yard looking for evidence of footprints or a struggle. Leave it to him not even to introduce himself. “That’s Sherlock Holmes. He’s my partner.”
“Partner?” Natalie’s eyes go wide before falling to her hands.
“Not like that.”
“Mhm.” Dylan hums from behind her earning an elbow to the gut. “Ow. Play nice.”
“Wait.” Natalie freezes. “The Sherlock Holmes? Like best private investigator in New York Sherlock Holmes?”
“And Joan Watson.” Dylan teases bumping hips with her.
“You’re Joan Watson!?” Natalie laughs momentarily forgetting the situation at hand. “I should have figured one of the two best detectives in New York was my little miss overachiever.”
“Stop.” Joan mutters as her cheeks flush red. “We’re here to help however we can.”
“Right.” The joy disappears from her face as she leads them all inside. Pete is pacing in the kitchen on the phone and Natalie goes ahead and leads them up the stairs. The house looks relatively untouched. No pictures out of line, no empty spots where an item once was.
The creek of the door snaps Joan out of her thoughts as Natalie leads them to Charlie’s room. Joan takes her hand for support as she guides them inside. Surely enough the struggle is the most evident inside. The curtains are torn down in front of the open window, toys scattered across the floor. The only comfort she could find was that there was no evidence of blood anywhere.
The message written into the walls is even more ominous in person than the photos Dylan had shown her. As if instinctively, Sherlock passes her a pair of gloves and plastic bags. She’s not sure how much evidence they’ll find but it won’t hurt to try.
“Mrs…”
“Cook.”
“Ah yes. Mrs. Cook, did Charlie express worries about previous encounters with anyone? Someone may have come up to him in the street? Perhaps at school?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Did Charlie act strange before his disappearance?”
“No.” Their voices fade as Joan steps into the hall to investigate herself. As she’s making her way through she spies a set of photos on a desk at the far side of the room. Natalie has her arms wrapped around Charlie as they saddle a horse together. In another, Dylan has her arm wrapped around the back of a tanned woman with a wavy hair. Come and see us soon. -Dylan and Nomi, was inscribed into the frame. Next, a photo of herself from before they left sipping a cup of tea by the fireplace. A chill runs down her spine at the last photo, however. It was from they went to the beach with Bosley all those years ago. The three of them had their arms wrapped around each other with the sea in the background. However, their faces had been x-ed out. On the back of the frame was a message carved with a knife. All of the angels will fall from heaven and join us mortals in their descent.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“There’s something on your mind Watson.” Sherlock’s voice breaks the silence in the room. “It’s just been a while.” Joan sighs. “When was the last time someone was actively trying to kill us?” “Not since Elana March I believe.” “The New York crime boss tried to kill you?” Natalie intersects wide eyed from her spot amongst files. “Almost didn’t.” Sherlock mutters disdain laced in his voice. “What?” A file hits the ground now as Dylan tunes into the conversation. “Alex?” “Joan.” Sherlock corrects. “Ignore him.” Joan dismisses burying herself in files in order to ignore this conversation. “No we’re not ignoring him.” Natalie protests. “You’d do the same for us if it was one of us. Now explain.” Joan kept stubbornly silent so of course Sherlock felt the need to answer for her. She could almost feel him bouncing from the other side of the room. “For a brief encounter of time I went back to London and Watson continued work here. In this time she… accidentally?” Watson shrugs. “Point is she angered the crime boss. Sent her to jail. While she was in jail she made contact with one of her lackeys and tried to have Watson poisoned.” Watson shifts at the onslaught of memories. “She was given the wrong coffee and…” “Oh Alex.” Natalie whispers. “Andrew’s been dead for two years now. It’s fine.” She lies. She can feel Dylan’s gaze from across the room. The only one in here that always knew when she was lying. “But she died didn’t she? That’s at least some comfort?” “Killed by his crazy ex that I told you about. Said she didn’t want anyone interfering with our game.” Joan mutters flipping through another list of names with a majority crossed out in red ink. “I still can’t believe a majority of these people are dead.” “To be fair they were very adamant about killing us.” Dylan points out with a shrug. No arguing with that one. They’ve been chased by more than a fair share bullets, helicopters, and other varieties of weapons. “And the ones who aren’t are either in jail have suddenly turned a new leaf.” Natalie sighs jutting out her chin. Joan can almost feel the tears welling in her eyes. She’s feeling hopeless. The air is almost radiating through the home. “Sherlock and I are going to visit our old office. Maybe there’s a clue there.” “We should go with you.” Natalie protests moving to stand. “No stay here. We need to make sure nothing happens to Pete and none of us should be left alone.” Alex frowns. “Sherlock isn’t as trained as us but he can fight.” He tenses slightly. Bad choice of words. “Stay safe.” Dylan feigns a smile.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX “So you dated Jason Gibbons?” Sherlock teases as they step in front of the building. The entire ride had been silent now suddenly he was asking questions again. Here she’d thought she’d nearly made it free. A groan rips through her throat. That hadn’t been her proudest moment. “Which of them told you?” “Natalie was rather informative when you were making coffee.” He smirks slightly. “You do know he’s rather…” “Dense?” “That’s putting it nicely.” He remarks. “He was sweet. He treated me well.” Joan smiles softly at the memory. For a moment she swears she can see him frown and shift uncomfortably. “It just didn’t work out okay? Can we stop talking about it?” “Very well. Shall we?” He gestures to the door. “Actually I think you should wait out here. Just in case the Angels are in there. Wouldn’t want to startle them now would we?” She teases. He frowns but relents. Joan steps inside immediately being overwhelmed with memories. There’s nobody inside but it looked like they’d just left. The embers were still glowing in the soft afternoon light. A few things were different. The decor on the couches had been replaced and there were a few new photos. She smiles slightly gazing down at the one of the new Angels. Dylan had trained them since she left and Natalie had become pregnant. She hoped for their sake they weren’t as cocky as she was. She picks up one photo of two ladies with their arms wrapped around each other. Both appeared to be African American with curly hair. One sports a rainbow striped tank top and a wide smile, the other a black pantsuit and a serious gaze. The next photo featured the same two women now featuring a Mexican woman squeezed between them giving a wide grin. Her rounded glasses were almost falling off the perch of her nose. She places the frame down walking over to the speaker. She lets out a small sigh, about to go back to investigating when a voice echoes through the room. “Alex.” Joan jumps nearly a foot in the air. The familiar voice pulls her back to the memories once more. “Charlie.” She whispers. “Or should I call you Joan?” “Either one is fine. The girls know now.” “They were bound to find out eventually.” He chuckles. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself in New York. I must say I’m not surprised you’ve become as skilled an investigator as you are.” “Thank you Charlie. How are you?” She continues combing through the room, looking for any clues. “I’m good. Retired actually.” “What?” “My daughter has taken over. No worries.” Another soft laugh echoes through the otherwise empty room. “She recognized you from the photos and connected me through.” “Everything looks the same but it’s so different.” Joan sighs. “That’s because you’re different.” She almost laughs at the cheesy statement. “Something else is on your mind though.” “You can tell?” “Of course I can tell. What’s the matter?” “Natalie’s son is missing. I was hoping to find a clue on who took him here.” “That’s not it though.” She can hear his eyebrow raising in his tone. “Is it?” “Sherlock didn’t know about all of this.” She sighs. “I didn’t intend for him to find it out either.” “Do you trust him?” “With my life!” She swears. At this point she’s not sure if she’s arguing the point for Sherlock or herself. An eery silence fills every corner of the room. “You still blame yourself.” “How can I not?” She whispers tears prickling at the back of her eyes. “I killed an innocent man.” “That’s in the past Alex. You have to let go.” Charlie’s tone swells in the room. “You care for this man do you not?” “Yes.” “Then give him time. Remember how difficult it was for Pete to accept this side of Natalie’s life?” “No Sherlock and I aren’t the same as Pete and Natalie.” She laughs redness filling her cheeks. God just what she needed right now. Another person teasing her about her partner. “Are you not? You care for this man. You’ve stuck by his side all of these years.” Something on the other side of the room glints in the light catching her attention. “Just give the thought a chance Alex. Let the past go.” As she approaches the desk she can make out that it’s a pistol. However, that’s not the thing that has ice spilling down her spine. It’s the golden color that glints off the weapon. So familiar. “All Angels must go to heaven.” A new voice crows through the speaker. Joan snatches the gun off the table making a quick break towards the door. A loud bang echoes through the room making her ears ring painfully. She makes it to the door before she’s thrown into the streets with flames licking up her spine. Her body rolls painfully across the road as she lands. Opening her eyes slightly she spies the building decimated by the explosion. Flames spout from the ground reaching towards the blue skies. Black smoke rises from the ashes to join the white clouds. “Watson!” Heavy feet hit off gravel carrying Sherlock to her position on the ground. Everything feels fuzzy and her limbs are heavy. Possible concussion and definitely some burns, she mentally notes. Sherlock lands beside her surveying her for serious bleeding or anything nasty. Her head feels like it’s swimming and it’s a little difficult to hear his voice. She can hear him pleading her to stay awake, demanding her to be okay. His voice is desperate and broken. She hadn’t heard it that way since he relapsed. Black spots close in on her sight threatening to drown her. She wants to tell him she’s okay but her tongue in heavy in her mouth. She unfolds her body letting the pistol rest on her chest. “What’s that?” “It’s to do with our kidnapper.” She coughs slowly forcing her limbs to cooperate despite Sherlock’s insistent protests. Her head is still ringing and blackness still trying to envelop her. She sits up with a groan only to fall heavily against Sherlock’s chest. She could hear the sirens rushing closer as people began to wander out of their respective buildings in alarm and concern. The last thing she feels is Sherlock softly pressing a kiss to the side of her head insisting that she’ll be okay.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Madison is back?” Natalie asks. Dylan paces up and down the center of the room almost determined to burn a hole into the ground. “That’s impossible.” Joan mutters from her place on the couch. She’d been checked out of the hospital a few days ago with minor burns but no concussion. Sherlock hovers behind her on his phone. “Madison Lee was a former angel who went insane after an accident where she almost lost her life.” She explains to her partner. “Did you check out her son?” Sherlock speaks up. Dylan comes to an abrupt halt spinning, eyes wild. “Did you just say son?” “Yes.” Joan takes the phone from him inspecting the photo he’d pulled up. “Like Watson, Madison Lee also used a pseudonym. Her real name was Natalie Duke. She married Lucas Duke, a year after the two had a son named Henry.” Joan scrolls through the missing person's report filed by her ex-husband after, according to the claim, she didn’t pick up Henry from school. Dylan runs a hand over her face. “Henry dropped out of college and disappeared.” “We need to get Pete and Nomi to a safe house. They’re not safe out in the open. Not even at his parent’s house.” Dylan nods walking off to make a call. “Look at this.” Natalie tosses her phone to Joan. It’s an invitation to a gala tomorrow night with Henry Duke listed as a main speaker. “Apparently our mystery man is a CEO. Shocker. Rich white man is a suspicious character.” She frowns looking at Sherlock. “No offense.” “None taken.” “So we go undercover. Alex and Sherlock will a married couple interested in investments. I’ll be a waitress and Dylan will be the bartender.” Natalie pitches in. “We’ll need someone to take watch during the night. He obviously knows where you live.” “I’ll take first shift.” Sherlock is the first to speak up unsurprisingly. “I have some more investigating to do.”XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX “A molar mic.” Sherlock shakes his head. “I’ll need a list of your gadgets to add to the ever growing list of things I apparently didn’t know.” He sighs adjusting his tie. “Honestly I am a class detective how could I not-” “We can all hear you.” Dylan cuts him off in their earpiece. “It was classified information. The only reason my fiance even knows is because I rescued her while on a mission.” “Sooooo romantic.” Natalie’s smile is evident in her tone. Joan rolls her eyes adjusting the gown so the tear away wasn’t obvious. The long sleeves allowed her to hide a switchblade and a collapsible baton in her sleeves and the flowy skirt tears away in case a chase is necessary. A pistol is safely tucked on her thigh. Sherlock’s arm settles on her waist awkwardly. She almost rolls her eyes at him. Who can be capable of speaking six different languages but acts like he’s a stick man around public demonstrations of affection. “We should split up. Spread across the crowd and try to get an understanding of how Duke operates.” Joan suggests. She steps out of Sherlock’s embrace almost missing the warmth of his body pressed against hers. She shakes it off moving across the crowd. “Mhm. That’s the reason.” Dylan teases making her throw a glare towards the bar. She sifts through the crowd mentally taking notes of everyone she sees. The crowd mostly consists of middle aged white men losing their hair. On their arms were young women with wide fake smiles. Of course there was the odd rarity where they had wives fitting their age but sadly not common. She narrows her eyes carefully studying faces. The majority being a little tipsy from champagne. Light weights… “Joan Watson.” She spins around at the foreign voice. The man wears a fake smile like a mask. He looks barely over twenty, a stark contrast from any other man in the room. She partially wonders how long he’d been following her. “A pleasure. Henry Duke.” Static echoes in her ear along with garbled voices. “EMPs are handy little things huh?” He waves the palm of his hand in front of her face to show off a device he’d concealed in his palm. Her heart beats faster in her chest as she takes his hand. “Where’s Charlie?” She asks between clenched teeth. She couldn’t make a scene here. To do so would draw attention to the both of them. He’d warned Natalie early if police had gotten involved she’d never see Charlie again. Joan is determined to keep this as quiet as possible. “Don’t worry. He’s unharmed and being well taken care of.” He smirks. “Hell I’d go as far to say the little bugger is happy.” He laughs. “Children are so gullible you know that? Adults are so much harder to fool. Nomi is providing quite the challenge.” Joan raises her hand but he catches her wrist in a tight grip. “Ah, play nice. Wouldn’t want any reason for little Charlie to get scared now would we?” She winces slightly as his fingers grip harder. “I get what I want, the boy is returned to his father without harm.” “What do you want?” “Is it not obvious Joan? Or is it Alex? That was never clear to me. Apparently not to Sherlock either.” She stomps on his foot with her heel but his grip didn’t relent. “Bastard.” “Not nice.” He growls pulling her to him. “I want you angels to burn.” He shoves her away now nearly stumbling into the person behind her. “Oh and don’t worry about Jamie interfering with our little game. She’s a little… preoccupied.” A chill runs down her spine quickly contrasted by the press of a warm body from behind her. “There you are.” Sherlock greets nearly startling her. “Let’s go catch some air shall we?” Joan can only nod slightly as he drives her away, his hand pressed insistently on the base of her spine. He drives her towards the door where cool air drift through. It’s almost relieving. She hikes the sleeves of her dress up removing the concealed weapons and leaving them abandoned on the sidewalk. “He’s dangerous.” “No really I didn’t get that from the fact that he kidnapped a child or that he’s threatened your life on multiple occasions.” He states sarcastically. “He got rid of Moriarty so she couldn’t interfere Sherlock!” She snaps. “The only people who know where she’s being held is us and the guards!” “Damn.” He curses pacing up and down the sidewalk. “You need to get to a safe house. You, Marcus, Gregson…” She’s rambling now. Panic runs rampant through her bones pictures of people she cares about dead before her eyes. “Watson get a hold of yourself.” He grips her by the shoulders but she just snatches herself away again. His eyes catch sight of the bruise quickly forming on her wrist. “Did he do this to you?” “I’ll be fine.” “A man is threatening your life nothing about this situation is fine.” “You need to go.” “I’m not leaving you Watson.” He insists pressing closer. “I’ve done without you before.” She snaps immediately regretting her words as he recoils as if she’d slapped him in the face. “Sherlock I-” “I get that you’ve been a spy but it has been a long time since you’ve done this sort of thing Watson. We catch the murderers, we don’t hunt them down. I don’t know you. Apparently I never have.” “You keep throwing this in my face but you’ve kept plenty of things from me before Sherlock!” “But I’ve told you! You kept this from me and intended on keeping it that way.” “And this is the exact reason.” She frowns. His lips twist into a grimace before he storms away. Perhaps it’s for the best. Footsteps echo announcing Dylan and Natalie before they even reach her. “Alex! Are you okay? We couldn’t reach you and we panicked oh my god.” Natalie envelops her into a bone crushing hug. Over her shoulder she sees Dylan, eyes red rimmed from panic. “Don’t disappear like that.” “Charlie is safe. He won’t hurt him. That’s not what he wants.” Natalie lets out a relieved cry clutching her tighter. “What’s wrong?” Dylan’s eyes are studying her face intently as Natalie releases her. Joan swipes a hand across her cheek. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying… “I hurt him.” Realization sets into both of the women as they hug her once again. Her shoulders tremble under the weight. “He was shouting and I-” “Did he do this to you?” Dylan grips her arm raising the bruise to the light. Anger rushes through the red head’s gaze no doubt thinking of 32 different ways she could make his life hell all at once. “No!” Joan denies quickly. “Sherlock would never hurt me. Not intentionally.” She says quietly. “You saw Duke.” Natalie breathes. “That’s why we couldn’t get a hold of you.” “He had an EMP. Apparently his mother taught him a few tricks before she left.” Dylan wipes a stray tear off of Joan’s cheek forcing her to look the woman in the eyes. “We’ll catch the bastard okay? We’ll talk to Sherlock too. From your stories, he won’t leave.” “You don’t know that.” “But you do.” Natalie assures. “Now let’s get out of here. We have some planning to do.” Joan nods allowing the two girls to wrap their arms around her protectively as they guide her down the dark sidewalks.