Hi everyone :) This is slightly different to the stories I usually write, as it is a one-shot set in the previous season, the day after the case involving the slain ballerina. It's an idea I had a few months ago, and that I have been thinking about for a while. I'm just working out the details of the latest chapter of my current story, and needed a 'palette cleanser', as Sherlock would say! I am also considering doing more one-shot/short pieces in the future, so any advice/issues/constructive criticism would be appreciated.
Thanks,
HQ21
It was the early evening, and the crackling of the glowing fire was partially concealed by the shuffling of shoes across the polished floor. Sherlock was walking across the living room in agitation, searching for a book that Miss Hudson's most recent re-organisation had left him bereft of. He looked down at his watch and found that it was just after six, she would be arriving soon. In fact, she should have arrived a couple of minutes ago. He paused, standing stock still with his hands by his sides, as he released a deep breath of exasperation, before throwing a single glance at the final shelf of the bookcase to the left: a place his book on the mating rituals of the bees which he had bread to create the Euglassia Watsonia. He hoped that they would be able to produce young of their own, but they did not do so at the expected time of year, and he was utterly perplexed. Sherlock stalked across the room and knelt before the bookcase, tilting his head to the side as he spent several minutes running his fingers across the covers of various volumes, studying the titles, and then removing the books to see if it had somehow fallen behind. It wasn't here, he was sure of it.
"Damn" he muttered, before glancing down at his phone and checking the time. It was ten past six. Sherlock narrowed his eyes in confusion, before rising from his kneeling position and glancing towards the foyer. She was never late. In fact, she could almost always be counted on to be upto fifteen minutes early. He scrolled through his contacts list and allowed his finger to hover above her details for a moment, before sighing and placing the phone back in his pocket. She was a trustworthy, kind and attentive individual, and he would not call her for being slightly late. They usually met much later than this, but he did not find himself able to wait. She must be caught up in traffic. Sherlock turned on the spot and headed for the kitchen, where he began searching through the drawers for his sign. It was not in the first or second drawers he checked, nor was it in the third. He sighed in exasperation once more, before taking a step back and glancing around the recently cleaned room. Miss Hudson and Watson had cleaned the place thoroughly after finding some remnants of his mould-related experiments. They had, in his opinion, overreacted when stumbling upon their discovery. He half wondered whether they were conspiring to hide the items they knew he needed. As this though ran through his mind, he turned towards the back of the kitchen, and found the item he was looking for resting in the centre of the table. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, before walking straight over to the table and picking up his carefully written 'coitus in progress' sign. He took it to the doors and tacked it up, whilst considering which of his two female associates had placed the sign in so conspicuous a place. Before he could think it over in any great detail, the ringing of the bell upstairs announced the arrival of his much-awaited arrival. Perfect.
Sherlock rushed up the stairs and headed straight for the doorway, adjusting his collar before opening the door to Samantha, one of the women whose services he enlisted upon occasion and, although he would never admit it, a personal favourite. Samantha was in her mid twenties, and petite but with a notable hourglass figure, which she dressed in semi-formal yet flattering attire. Her eyes were a deep, entrancing blue and her hair was thick and dark, and often worn up in an elaborate plait design of some description. She was pleasant, amiable and intelligent, and he enjoyed her company socially and well as sexually. She had a contagious laugh and a modest and reflective countenance which Sherlock found fascinating. As he opened the door to reveal her before him, he did not find it difficult to smile at her in a genuine manner.
"Good evening, Samantha" he greeted pleasantly, standing to the side to allow her to enter.
"Hey you" she answered, smiling nervously as she entered. Sherlock noticed this, as well as the low and hesitant manner in which she spoke. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he closed the door behind her, before turning to find her hanging up her bag. "Sorry I'm late, Sherlock" she continued with more guilt in her voice than she required. "Traffic is a nightmare at this time, isn't it?" she asked, turning to him with a smile as she removed her hat, which she then placed upon a hook. She was wearing a demure black dress with matching court shoes, and the white scarf was fashioned as a wrap. Sherlock nodded briefly in agreement, before stepping towards her. He took a couple of steps towards her and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder, attempting to assist her with her wrap, as was their usual custom. The first time he had done so she had turned on the spot, placed a hand upon his own, and invited him in for a sensual kiss. They hadn't even made it to the living room that day, and he had been grateful that Watson was on one of her 'dates'. But this time, it was different. The moment his hand rested gently upon her, she tensed instantly, before turning on the spot. Sensing her discomfort instantly, Sherlock removed his hand and took a step back, his confused eyes running across her body analytically. "Sorry, I..." she mumbled in apology, forcing a nervous laugh as she spoke. "You startled me, I..."
"It's quite alright" Sherlock responded gently, remaining a comfortable distance from her as he looked into her eyes. "I apologise, I did not wish to startle you" he continued kindly. As soon as their eyes met, she glanced down slightly, as if unable to meet his gaze. Sherlock tilted his head to the side slightly, focusing on a spot beneath her left cheek, which seemed slightly different to the other side of her face. After examining it inconspicuously for a moment, he realised what the difference was. The left side of her face had had some hastily applied make-up layered on recently, topped with a shade of blusher slightly darker than her usual tone. Sherlock frowned, before taking a few steps forward, as he watched her hang up her wrap. "Samantha" he said gently, causing her to turn immediately towards him, dropping her wrap in the process.
"Oh" she sighed, before attempting to bend and pick it up. But Sherlock had managed to catch it before it hit the ground, and was folding it for her as she spoke. "Thank you" she stated, her voice slightly calmer and notably more relaxed.
"Certainly" Sherlock responded, glancing once more towards her face as he spoke. As he folded the scarf and turned it over, he noticed a small stain on one of the corners, which had been previously obscured from his view. It was a small pool of a deep red shade, which had only recently dried, judging by its colour. His face paled slightly as he looked upon it, and considered it alongside her lateness, nervousness and the quickly-applied darker make up she was currently wearing. "Samantha, what is this?" he asked gently, indicating towards the red on the scarf as he handed it to her. Samantha's eyes grew slightly, before returning to normal as she accepted the garment from him.
"Nail polish" she smiled. "It gets everywhere, unfortunately. And always on white, don't you think?" she continued, placing the folded up scarf on a small table in the foyer.
"You are not wearing red nail polish, your nails are a lovely shade of light pink" he returned gently, his voice lowering slightly. "And that stain has only just dried." Samantha looked up at him and met his gaze for the first time that evening, and they were silent for a few moments, before she continued to speak.
"It must have been one of the other girls. I lend them my stuff all the time" she rationalised, before glancing around the familiar building. "Usual room?" she asked.
Sherlock watched her for a moment with a concerned and knowing expression, and they remained silent for a few seconds. He hoped that she would be the first to break the silence, to talk to him, to confide, but she did not. Instead, he used the time to run his eyes across her body, one he knew so well and so intimately, to search for any sign of injury. But the brownstone was dimly lit and she was standing completely still, which made her current physical condition difficult to discern. But the make-up on her face spoke to at least one injury, and due to her hesitation when he touched her, he suspected that she had further injuries that she was attempting to conceal.
"Perhaps later" he said simply, in a voice which was so calm and so normal that Samantha thought that he believed her. "Would you mind awfully if we went into the kitchen first?"
"Sure thing" she replied gently, her hair bouncing as she walked. Sherlock stood several paces behind her and watched as she walked, searching for any signs of discomfort or distress. Her walking seemed fine, but different. She always had wonderful posture, which he admired greatly in all women, but today she was even more straight-backed than usual. He frowned slightly and his eyes blazed as he watched her make her way into the kitchen.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked, indicating towards the table, before pulling out a chair for her. Samantha glanced from Sherlock to the chair, before walking confidently over to it and sitting behind the table. As long as she acted perfectly normally, there wouldn't be an issue, and he would not suspect a thing. She ran her fingers through her dark, thick hair, before placing her clasped hands in her lap and staring at the table. She heard the sound of running water and the kettle being placed upon the stove, and was therefore surprised to hear his approaching footsteps just a few seconds later. She turned to face him and, instead of holding two cups of tea in his hands, he drew up the chair beside her, leaned forward slightly, and placed a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a white tea towel gently to her right cheek. Samantha tensed slightly, her whole body stilling, as she watched him with wide eyes and a nervous expression, and she felt herself becoming tearful. How did he know? "It's alright, Samantha" he soothed, using a tone more gentle and comforting than she had heard from him. He was always polite, appreciative and considerate, and she enjoyed the time they spent together. But she was unsettled by the events earlier in the day, embarrassed about crying in front of him, and ashamed for feeling so completely terrified and alone. "It's alright" he repeated, as she took in a shaking breath, and closed her eyes to calm herself. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and Sherlock felt himself experiencing several emotions all at once, which were heightened by the words she next spoke.
"I'm sorry" she mumbled, breathing in deeply once more before opening her eyes. Sherlock felt a lump form in his throat and a combination of concern and anger course through his veins at the words.
"You have absolutely nothing to apologise for" he responded in a low, gentle tone, before removing the make-shift ice-pack from her face, and placing it upon the table. The white material which had wrapped the peas was now covered in a combination of peach and rose-coloured make up, and as she turned towards him, Sherlock could see that the moisture from the compress had removed some of her make-up, revealing a deep, purpling bruise beneath her eye. Once more, he felt anger rise inside him, which he sought desperately to control. She had witnessed more than enough for one day, and he would not distress her by revealing his feelings towards the individual who had harmed her in such a way. She was a kind, compassionate and intelligent human being, and she did not deserve this. No one did. He took in a deep breath, before allowing herself a few moments to continue to regain her composure, and then posing a question he feared would unsettle her, but that needed to be asked. "Samantha, are you hurt anywhere else?"
Samantha watched him carefully for a moment, her tear-stained eyes meeting his wide and inquisitive ones watching her with concern. She fidgeted with her hands in her lap for a few moments, before taking in a series of short, staggered breaths. She didn't want to talk about it, she didn't want him to know that she had been harmed by another client. It had never happened before. Sherlock watched carefully as her breathing became faster and slightly more erratic, before finding himself unable to remain still and silent for much longer. He slowly and hesitantly placed his hand upon hers, which caused her to tense slightly, before relaxing completely beneath his gentle and comforting hold. He was unfamiliar with comforting individuals, certainly not in situations like this. But he found himself acting immediately and instinctively, and hoping that he was not distressing her. After a few moments her breathing slowed and she appeared much calmer. She rose her head slightly and her eyes opened, still not daring to meet his gaze.
"Is it your back?" Sherlock asked quietly, squeezing her hand reassuringly as he felt her tense once more beneath him. Her lip quivered slightly and she turned her head to the side, causing her glossy hair to fall across her cheek and partially shield her. "Samantha, is your back hurt?" he asked gently. She swallowed hard, before nodding twice in agreement as she turned back towards him.
"He threw me against a wall, then punched me in the face" she mumbled, before rising her eyes to look at his face. "I kicked him between the legs and ran. It... it was across town and I had to make a stop to fix my make up, which is why I was late and-"
"Samantha" Sherlock stated, his tone adopting a confident and assured edge which drew her attention to him immediately. "You have absolutely nothing to apologise for, and you have done nothing wrong, at all." Samantha's lip trembled slightly, and she nodded uncertainly in return, as her hand continued to shake beneath his. "Now, I... I wish to make sure that you are not hurt. Would you allow me to take you to a hospital?" he asked gently, already anticipating the answer. Samantha shook her head defiantly in return, before trembling even more so beneath him. "Alright, alright" he soothed. "My friend is a former doctor, could I ask her to examine you?" he asked gently, feeling her still beneath his hands. "She is very kind and very discreet. No one will make you do something you do not wish to do, Samantha. But as you are injured I would like to ensure that you are alright." Samantha sighed lightly, before nodding slowly in response. Sherlock had mentioned Dr Watson to her on several occasions during their many meetings, and the two had even met on one occasion. The kindly woman made her coffee in a takeaway cup, and spoke to her pleasantly for several minutes in the kitchen. She was kind, sincere and non-judgemental, and she was certain that she could be trusted. And her back was actually hurting quite a lot.
"Okay" she whispered, using her free hand to wipe away some of her tears, which she did not realise had fallen.
"Thank you" Sherlock returned, squeezing her hand gently once more, as the kettle hissed on the stove. "I'll just be a moment" he assured her, before standing from his seat and walking towards the stove and removing the kettle from the flame. He removed his phone from his pocket and made a quick phone call, which Samantha paid little attention to, as she continued to clasp and unclasp her hands, shifting uncomfortably as the pain in her back increased. Shortly afterwards Sherlock approached her with a hot cup of tea which he placed before her. She mumbled some words of thanks, before feeling a thick, warm fabric being drawn across her back and shoulders. It was the dark blue blanket that she recognised as belonging to the living room. She turned to find Sherlock drawing it gently across her, ensuring she was completely covered. "Are you warm enough?" he asked considerately, before taking a step back, not wishing to crowd her. She nodded in assent, before adjusting the blanket over her shoulders. As she did so, the material fell slightly, to reveal a set of red finger marks on the top of her arm, which had been partially obscured by make up. Sherlock's heart raced and his eyes blazed as he noticed this, and he fought to compose himself. "My associate will be here in a few minutes, and she will help you, alright?"
"Yes" Samantha replied, nodding as she wrapped her hands around the hot tea. "Thank you" she added, looking up nervously at him. He did not respond verbally, but watched her with wide, concerned eyes, before nodding in response.
"There is a medical kit upstairs which Watson may require, I will retrieve it now. Please, help yourself to anything you need" he stated, drumming his fingers on his thighs and turning on the spot, pulling the sign from the closed doors and screwing it up, before walking from the kitchen. Samantha took several tentative sips of her tea in his temporary absence, and felt calmed slightly as the sweet liquid soothed her. She'd never had a client lose it like that before, and it was deeply unsettling. The fact that the pain appeared to be increased every time she moved was also cause for concern, but she did not wish to mention it. She placed the cup back on the table and glanced curiously around the kitchen, puzzling at her current predicament. She didn't know why she hadn't simply cancelled her appointment with Sherlock, he would not have minded. She couldn't fathom what had drawn her to the brownstone, to his presence. Maybe she wanted him to find out, to know what happened. Someone should she thought, before clasping her hands in her lap once more.
Before she could think over the subject any further, the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen drew her from her thoughts, and she turned to find Sherlock standing beside her. He placed the medical kit upon the table before taking up his former seat, and sitting with her in a brief, consolatory silence. She felt herself calm slightly, and her attention was temporarily taken from her injuries and her pain, and focused on the current situation.
"I guess this probably isn't what you were expecting this afternoon" she sighed, smiling lightly as she spoke. Sherlock watched her for a moment, his expression unchanging, as she lifted her head and watched him with her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. The bruise by her cheek seemed to be deepening in colour by the second, and the thought made him wince. He picked up the partially defrosted peas and held them once more to her face. She leaned into the peas, which soothed her and cooled her burning body.
"This is certainly not something that anyone should expect" he replied gently, as adjusted the position of the peas, causing her to raise her eyes to meet his.
"It's never happened before" she mumbled. "Not ever. The guy I work for is... he's great, really, he... he vets all potential clients before sending us to them, and dismisses anyone who ever lays a finger on any of the girls. I've only known it happen twice in the four years I've..." she trailed off slightly, uncertain of how to continue, or even why. She looked up to find Sherlock watching her patiently and with kindness, as he continued to hold the peas gently to her cheek. "Why are you doing this?" she asked gently, her voice low and almost whispered.
"It reduced the swelling and soothes the inflamed skin" Sherlock responded, as he adjusted the peas once more.
"That's not what I meant" she returned, hissing as she felt further pain and discomfort in the centre of her back.
"What is it?" Sherlock asked, his senses heightened immediately, as his keen eyes glanced from her face to the blanket which was covering her back.
"My... my back, I... it's just sore, that's all" she responded, adjusting herself in her seat slightly, and attempting to conceal the discomfort it caused her from Sherlock. Sherlock watched her carefully, his curious eyes running across her body. Before he could respond, the sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard in the distance, and Sherlock leaned back slightly in his seat.
"Watson has arrived" he began. "Are you happy for her to examine you?"
"Yeah" she mumbled, attempting to offer him a small smile. Sherlock nodded in return, and glanced towards the doorway as the familiar sound of his partner's footsteps entered the room.
Joan walked briskly into the room, and glanced momentarily onto the scene before her. A young woman wrapped in a blanket was sitting at their table, being tended to by Sherlock, who was watching her with a concerned and attentive expression. She felt herself become affected by admiration for him, and for his concern for an individual who he claimed he associated with purely on a physical and productive basis. Sherlock Holmes did not surprise her, not at all. But she was impressed.
"Samantha?" she asked gently, walking slowly across the room until she was standing before the young woman. "I'm Joan, we've met before, remember?"
"I do" Samantha nodded, removing the peas from her face as she tilted her head upwards to look at her. "You make a mean cappuccino". Joan smiled lightly in return, as Sherlock rose from his seat and stood before her.
"Thank you for coming so promptly, Watson" he stated, nodding as he spoke.
"Of course" she responded, placing her bag down on Sherlock's discarded chair, before shrugging off her coat. She glanced down at the bruised face of the young woman before her, and felt her heart ache slightly at the sight. "Samantha" she began, before sitting down upon the seat. "Sherlock told me that your back is hurt" she stated, waiting for a few moments as Samantha nodded in response. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"No" she said confidently.
"Okay" Joan returned gently. "I know it's difficult, but could you tell us what happened?" Samantha shifted slightly in her seat, before taking in a deep breath and meeting Joan's gaze with a confident attempt. The kindly former doctor smiled gently in response.
"I was... I was with another client" she began, her eyes turning to side as she spoke. "He wanted me to-" she broke off for a moment, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap as she attempted to calm herself. "He asked me to do something that I... didn't feel comfortable with and I... I declined" she stated simply, before turning back to face Joan directly. "He got angry and I tried to leave, but he threw me against a wall and it me. I kicked him between the legs and pushed him off me, and ran out of his office. I hailed a cab, stopped off at my place to change and reapply some make-up, and came straight here." Samantha glanced towards Joan as she completed her statement, searching the other woman's eyes for any signs of judgement or disapproval. Understandably, and expectedly, she found none. Instead, Joan Watson was watching her with a kindly look, her features exuding compassion and understanding. "Sherlock helped with my cheek, which doesn't feel like it's burning any more" she continued lightly, raising her fingers to her cheek as she spoke. "But my back is really sore, and I think it's getting worse."
"It's alright" Joan soothed. "Thank you for telling us about what happened, I know it must have been hard" she continued. "Is it alright if I examine your back?" she asked tentatively. Samantha nodded, allowing the blanket to fall from her shoulders as she pushed herself back in her seat. She had seemed comfortable and fairly composed when recounting her ordeal, but her whole body was tense and her face bore a look of apprehension.
"I'll give you some privacy, I'll just be outside" Sherlock stated in a low, considerate tone, before taking a few steps across the kitchen.
"Thank you" she whispered, as Joan moved behind her and helped her with her dress.
Sherlock walked from the room and closed the door gently behind him, before pressing himself against the wall. He closed his eyes and leaned back, so that his head was resting on the crumbling brickwork behind him. He breathed in a few times, his hands pressed to his sides, as he considered the brief statement of the woman at his table. His eyes snapped open and became glazed over, as his fists clenched by his sides, and his breathing increased. She was traumatised and in pain, and had been treated abhorrently. He sighed in exasperation, rubbing his eyes with one hand as his fist remained clenched by his side, and he felt himself trembling with anger. After seeing Samantha's facial bruising, he could only imagine what her monstrous client had done to her back. Sherlock pushed himself from the wall in frustration and began to pace the small space outside of the door, before the sound of it opening drew his attention immediately to it, and he stilled completely.
"You can come in" Joan whispered, holding the door open for him. He walked immediately towards her and entered the room, before feeling Joan walk up behind him and lean towards his ear. "Prepare yourself" she whispered, before walking straight over to Samantha, who was covered by a blanket. Joan gentle drew the blanket aside and Sherlock glanced down, his eyes widening in anger as he saw the sight before him. A large bruise was purpling upon Samantha's back, which covered at least fifty per cent of her body. She had some contact marks and abrasions which appeared painful, and were still bleeding slightly. She must be in agony. "Samantha has sustained significant bruising to her back, and I suspect she has at least three fractured ribs" Joan stated in a low tone. Sherlock continued to stare at Samantha's back, before nodding in understanding, and taking up his seat opposite her.
"Who did this to you?" he asked gently, as Joan zipped up her dress and placed the blanket delicately across her.
"I can't" she whispered, shaking her head slightly.
"Samantha, what this man has done-"
"Is nothing compared to the damage he will do if I say his name" she responded, crossing her arms across her chest, and wincing as she did so. Sherlock swallowed hard, clasping his hands together upon the table, as he watched Samantha with a look of concern.
"Why is that?" he asked gently. Samantha chewed her bottom lip and sighed, before looking up to face Sherlock and Joan, who were sat beside each other and listening attentively.
"We deal with a lot of... wealthy and high-profile clients" Samantha began, unclasping her hands as she spoke. "This particular client has... a significant amount of influence in the legal sphere. He could have me arrested for solicitation, and he will remain untouchable. It would be his word against mine, and we all know who he'd believe."
"Samantha, whoever this man is, he hurt you. He treated you in the most disgusting, repugnant way. Now, if you do not wish to prosecute him that is your choice. But the kind of man he clearly is is not the kind of man who should be able to continue enjoying the company of women such as yourself. For him or for them" Sherlock stated, watching Samantha with wide, concerned eyes. "If he has done this to you, he could do this again. And next time, he could hurt the young lady even more than you yourself have been hurt this afternoon."
"What do you suggest?" Samantha asked after several moments.
"I would like you to tell me the man's name. I will pay him a visit, inform him that I know what he did and will be able to prove it, and will make his life thoroughly unpleasant for him if he does not desist." Sherlock responded confidently.
"That simple, huh?" she asked in a low, uncertain voice.
"I assure you, Samantha, he will agree to my terms" Sherlock stated with equal confidence, his eyes meeting hers. "I will not allow him to harm you, and he most certainly will not have you arrested for solicitation. Certainly not if I have a brief discussion with him beforehand. It would appear malicious, and an attempt at a cover-up. It would also draw attention towards him. A man in the legal profession could not afford for his name to be associated with such a violent act, and he knows it. I assure you, Samantha, you will be safe."
"I believe you" she whispered, her eyes becoming tearful as she spoke. "You have this... this presence, I guess, about you. I saw it the very first time we met. I believe you and I trust you."
"Thank you" Sherlock responded, nodding as he spoke. "Will you tell me who he is?" he asked gently. Samantha swallowed hard, before inhaling deeply and preparing herself to speak.
"James Heller" she stated, whispering the words quickly into the silence.
"James Heller?" asked Joan. "Assistant District Attorney James Heller?"
"Yeah" Samantha replied, turning to Sherlock as she spoke. "So you see my problem."
"I see no problem" Sherlock responded immediately, his face adopting an unreadable expression, as he calmly pushed himself from his seat and stood tall between the two women. "Watson, will you please make up a room for Samantha, and ensure that she has everything she requires?" he began, before turning towards Samantha. "As you would not like to go to a hospital, would you be so kind as to remain with us for a short while, so we can monitor your condition and ensure that you are alright?" Samantha nodded gratefully in agreement, and Joan seconded the motion.
"What are you going to do?" she asked nervously, as she pulled her blanket closer to her.
"I am going to pay Mr Heller a visit" Sherlock returned, drumming his fingers on his thigh before walking briskly from the room. Before he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard the sound of Joan's heels clicking behind him, and he paused with one hand upon the bannister.
"You are just gonna talk to him, right?" Joan asked, as she watched him with a wary expression and eyes of warning. Sherlock was silent for a few moments, looking her in the eyes as she stood before him.
"I will be back shortly" he stated, before walking quickly up the stairs and out the front door. Joan would have followed him, if not for her concerns about the young woman at the kitchen table. Joan sighed, turning on the spot and heading back to the kitchen, where her patient was continuing to take tentative sips from her warm tea. Joan took up a seat beside her, offered her some aspirin, and led her through to the upstairs bathroom, where she proceeded to run her a hot bath.
Sherlock hailed a cab and headed straight for the building where the ADA's office was situated, tipping the driver generously as he slammed the door shut behind him and walked briskly into the building. Despite it being the early evening, there were still several legal professionals present in the building, which was routinely patrolled by a small army of security guards. But this was not his concern. Sherlock appeared calm and collected as he strolled down the familiar corridors, reading the signs upon the walls until he reached the office at the end of the corridor on the far left. Sherlock knocked once and entered the room before he heard a response. ADA Heller was seated before his desk, files in his hands. Once Sherlock had visually confirmed that this was the man he was looking for, he began walking slowly towards him.
"Can I help you?" the ADA asked arrogantly. Before he could place his files on his desk, Sherlock had grabbed the man by the collar and hurled him violently against a tall oak bookcase to the left of the room. "What the hell do you-"
"I could ask you the very same question" Sherlock hissed, pressing the man's back harshly against the sturdy wood, causing him to gasp in pain. "Samantha" he said simply, watching the man's face for a reaction. Despite being a lawyer, his poker face was terrible. The young man before him flushed slightly and his eyes widened, before adopting a confused school-boy expression.
"Who?" he asked innocently, causing Sherlock to pull him from the bookcase and slam him against it once more with increased force, causing the man to cry out.
"What the hell is your problem?" he asked.
"My problem is the way you treat women whose company you are fortunate enough to require" Sherlock hissed, bringing his face closer to the ADA's. "And the fact that you think your profession shields you from your actions and condemns theirs." The ADA laughed, turning his head to the side and then facing Sherlock directly.
"I don't know what some delusional, drugged-up bitch-" before he could finish his response Sherlock pulled him from the bookcase and struck him hard across the face, causing the man to fall to the ground.
"I wonder what the DA, your colleagues and even you wife would think about your clandestine meetings with ladies of the night?" Sherlock asked, as he stood over the ADA, who was attempting to push himself up from the ground. "This is the room you met her in, yes? Well, I'm sure that CCTV footage from the premises, both internal and external, would prove her presence here, if nothing else. I'd imagine that would be an interesting discussion for you to have with your superiors, would it not?"
"You're insane" he hissed.
"And you're about be disbarred, fired and divorced unless you comply with my demands."
The ADA turned to the side and sighed in exasperation, pulling himself to his feet and standing tall before Sherlock as he spoke.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I want you to stay away from Samantha and all other women of her profession. I want you to assure me that you will not have her followed or threatened or coerced" he began, watching the ADA's face as he slowly nodded in agreement. "And I want you to know that, should you breach this arrangement, I will email copies of the aforementioned CCTV, as well as Samantha's injuries, to your boss, your colleagues, and your wife" Sherlock paused for a moment, watching as the ADA continued to nod. "And also" he stated, taking a step closer to the dark-haired man before him, whose arrogant countenance was now awash with concern and wariness. "if any harm comes to her, in any form, or to any other woman of her profession, I will be coming back." The ADA stared at him for a moment, before nodding his head once and brushing the blood from the side of his nose.
"Right" he said.
"Right" Sherlock repeated, before shaking his aching hand by his side, and turning to leave the room. "My regards to your wife" he said, as he slammed the door behind him and made his way back to the brownstone.
Sherlock arrived home twenty minutes later and was greeted by Joan Watson, who threw a packet of frozen sweetcorn at him. He winced at the contact, staring up at her with a confused expression, before pressing the item onto his bloodied hand.
"Are you alright?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips as she spoke.
"Yes" he replied simply, walking through the foyer and towards the living room.
"Is he?" she asked, leaning against the door frame as she spoke.
"Regrettably so" Sherlock responded, removing the ice from his hand and glancing upon the wound. "He will not repeat his former actions, of that I am fairly certain."
"Good" Joan responded, causing Sherlock to turn towards her. "This doesn't mean I agree with what you did" she said, walking past him.
"Of course not" he responded, tossing the frozen goods onto the couch.
"Keep it on, it'll reduce the swelling" she called over her shoulder, as she picked up some additional blankets from the room. Sherlock stood still for a few moments, before picking up the frozen package and holding it to his hand once more.
"How is she?" he asked, his voice softer and more solemn than it had been. Joan turned on the spot and faced him with a kind and consoling expression.
"She's fine, she's resting" Joan explained, holding the folded blankets to her. "She had a hot bath which helped, and I've given her some painkillers. I treated her as best I could, and will stay downstairs with her tonight" she stated, smiling lightly before turning on the spot.
"May I join you?" Sherlock asked, taking a step towards her. Joan turned on the spot and gave him a quizzical look, causing him to flush slightly. "I only wish to ensure that she is alright." After a few seconds Joan nodded in agreement, before walking up to him and handing him a blanket, which he accepted. She allowed her eyes to fall onto his hand, and removed the sweetcorn, before glancing over it.
"I think I'm gonna be checking on you both every few hours" she stated, before turning on the spot and heading towards the stairs. They turned off the lights in the rooms they passed through, and the brief journey was made in almost total silence, until Sherlock reached the centre of the staircase and found a though returning to him.
"Watson" he began, his tone indicating that he was about to pose a question. Joan paused at the bottom of the stairs and turned back to face him, as he made his way slowly down the rest of the steps. "Have you seen my book about the mating rituals of various bees?"