A/N:First Elementary fic ever and I am a wee bit afraid that the characters aren't in keeping with what I've seen but I'm hoping to have done an okay enough job with it.
Apprehensive- anxious or fearful that something bad or unpleasant will happen.
Watson was angry at him. He couldn't really understand why but she was very, very angry. It could have been because he stole the last of her almond milk or maybe because he'd waken her up at four in the morning to go over files from a cold case he'd suddenly had revelations about. It could also be because he had gone through her phone and just happened to message people as her (again). The reasons were plentiful.
But she hadn't seemed angry when he'd actually done any of those things, just exasperated and a little resigned. Annoyed but not angry.
Even now she wasn't really acting angry per say. He could read it in her body language but she wasn't showing it outright, she wasn't glaring at him, yelling at him or threatening him. She had even smiled at him when he'd predicted the result of the last baseball game she'd watched although it was less a smile and more a baring of teeth. She hadn't huffed and puffed like she usually did.
This trepidation as he waited for her to explode was killing him. He knew and yet he didn't know. Moriarty had been right, women were harder to read, this woman only more so.
It made him think of all those things about her that he didn't really understand, like why she hadn't unpacked her things to the brownstone, especially when she'd been so vocal about screwing what his father thought and staying in New York. She considered this to be her home, that much was certain, yet she still felt the need to maintain a separate space of her own, why?
Was she still not sure then? With every passing day that she remained angry and he didn't know why he got more and more addled, more questions coming to mind. Why hadn't she moved in completely, how were they friends when she'd never even laughed around him, what on earth made her think sleeping with Mycroft was a good idea and so on and so forth.
In the end there was an explosion but not one from her.
It was early morning and they were at the table, she was reading and he was setting up an experiment involving lipstick, a blanket, car batteries and salt water taffy. After the fifteenth time she had done nothing but sighed, barely taking her eyes off the page, the same page she'd been on for the past half an hour, he couldn't take it anymore and the resulting outburst was nothing short of spectacular.
"Watson if you're angry with me I'd much rather you confront me instead of playing games."
"Me? Angry?" She sounded confused and utterly innocent. Watson never sounded innocent.
"Any time I make any noise you clench your fists, the vein in your neck becomes prominent and you stomp when you walk. You reek of anger."
"But why would I possibly be angry with you?" The coy tone was grating on him and he begins rambling then, listing every incident that might have led to their current circumstances. It took a surprising amount of time.
"I still don't see why I would be angry with you."
"You-," He stopped suddenly noticing the amusement in her eyes, the slight quirk of her eyebrow and the tilt in her mouth. "You're playing with me."
"I was simply conducting an experiment." She said leaning back in the chair putting her book down and crossing her hands behind her head, entirely at ease.
"An experiment?"
"Well you made me read that book about body language didn't you? I was simply checking its accuracy."
"You sent mixed signals."
"And you picked up on anger above everything else, I wonder why?"
He twiddled his hands whilst making a face that makes him look a lot like Clyde. "You are prone to being crabby."
"Or perhaps you go out of your way to annoy me and expect this reaction."
She was becoming too much like him, he realised, and that would have to be rectified. Maybe he would wake her up at two in the morning this time.
Brother- A male having the same parents as another or one parent in common with another
"Mycroft?"
"Joan, what a pleasure to hear from you, was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?"
Mycroft really was quite pleased to hear from Joan. Admittedly his plans of getting Sherlock back in London hadn't worked out too well but he still held high hopes that he would be able to arrange something. And if he could sway Ms Watson over to his side it would only be easier for him then.
"Well there was something I wanted to discuss with you, it was about what you told Sherlock before leaving, about what his father,well your father too I suppose, wanted him to do. Move back to London and go back to working with Scotland Yard and living in 221B?"
"Yes I remember that. I did give Father Sherlock's answer and-"
"Well you see I thought it was...odd of Sherlock's father to invest so much in his recovery and then promptly take him away from his entire support system, especially when he's only been out of rehab for a year. I had informed him that while my stint as a sober companion was to help Sherlock make the transition to normal life there would be triggers all around him once he was out of rehab and that it would be quite some time before he would be really okay and capable of staying sober without it being an actual challenge." She said in that soft but direct way of speaking she employed.
"I realise that it's an ongoing process but Father-"
"So I emailed him informing him that pressurising Sherlock to go to London by dangling the threat of eviction was really not the best way to go with an addict who has only just gotten their life on track. Imagine my surprise when I received an email an hour ago from your father saying that no such threat had been issued and if anything he would much rather Sherlock stay in New York." In the matter of seconds she had gone from gentle to ice-cold.
"-Oh." He had been found out. "I can-"
"Explain? I'm sure you can but I'm not interested in that. I told you how to make Sherlock your friend but there are certain kinds of friends that he doesn't need to have, the kind that plot and plan behind his back, does that sound familiar?"
"Ms Watson I was only-"
"I don't care what you were doing but I do care that you are planning things to force his hand and just so you know if you force his you also force mine...So consider this a warning Mycroft, if you do anything that might undermine Sherlock and the decisions he should be able to make himself without people forcing his hand, if you try to be anything other than his brother to him I shall tell him of everything that I have just found out and that is not going to end well for you. We've already seen how little he cares about his father and I do not think you would want the same fate for you."
"I underestimated you Ms Watson." There was resignation in his tone. Sherlock was right he really was far too lazy and setting up such an elaborate lie had just been such an effort.
"And you Mycroft have dropped radically in my esteem. Good day although I suppose it is night there isn't it?"
"Yes quite."
Without another word the call was cut. Mycroft looked out the window of his own apartment this time, not 221B. Ms Watson had put quite a spanner in his plans.
"Bollocks."
Corpse- a dead body, especially of a human being rather than an animal.
They were in the middle of a case and files were strewed all around. Sherlock had made a comment about a possible necrophiliac conducting the murders and a few seconds later Watson had burst out and all but yelled.
"I need to get laid!"
"I wholeheartedly agree but what made you realise that Watson? I was under the impression you were not as...shall we say 'sexually free' in your ways to truly appreciate the merits of good sex."
Watson on her part was embarrassed and had taken to hiding her face in her hands and muttering under her breath. Even Sherlock's sensitive hearing wasn't a match for her low words.
"I could help you know." The minute he'd said the word she'd looked up with an expression somewhere in between scepticism and fear. Surely he didn't mean... "I'm sure one of my friends can find a similar friend for you."
"Thanks for the offer Sherlock but I'm afraid having to resort to one of your hooker friends finding me a gigolo might me a bit too much for my ego."
"I thought as much." He said with a birdlike bob of his head and went back to the files and she sighed in relief and resumed perusing the case files as well. "But you haven't told me what brought along this epiphany." She sighed and put the file down next to her and looked at his expectant eyes.
"You don't want to know."
"On the contrary Watson if I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked."
"I was just thinking that a dead person is getting more action than I am. That's all."
"Not to worry Watson, to most of the population you are bound to be more attractive than a corpse."
"That is not helping in the least. Look, can we just get back to the case."
"Right, first the case, then Watson's sexless life." A loud thunk as Watson's head met the table was his only answer.