For A Little Knowledge
Ella Thompson strolled into the empty waiting room of her office and picked up her mail, briskly sorting through the envelopes. "Good morning, Sarah. What's today like?"
The receptionist smiled, swung her chair around and consulted the computer screen. "Looks a bit light. There's a new one first thing, then you've a break until after lunch."
"That is light. Summer slump I guess. Who's the new one?"
"Shezza Wiggens. He seemed desperate for an immediate appointment. A-won't-take-no-for-an-answer type. He actually said that before I had a chance to tell him we did have an opening. But he wouldn't answer any of the initial questions. Said he'd only talk to you."
"That's fine. I like a mystery. When he arrives, just go ahead and show him in. If he's really desperate, he'll be early. Early in, early out is okay by me. I've got errands to run today."
She headed down the hall to her office, put out a new box of tissue and was checking her messages when there was a knock on the door. She glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes early. My, my Mr. Wiggens.
The door opened and a tall, mustachioed man in dark glasses was ushered in. He thanked the receptionist for bringing him down and strode across the room with his hand extended. He was a surprise to her, but not a mystery.
"I know you . . ." She began before her voice trailed away. She wondered how he could think she wouldn't know him as she'd been working with his partner in crime-solving on and off for a few years now. In many ways, she felt she already knew him very well indeed.
He smiled at her and peeled the mustache off his lip, wrapping it in a handkerchief, then removed the dark glasses, and tucked both objects into an inside pocket of his coat. He tossed the coat on one chair and sat down on another, crossing his legs and steepling his hands beneath his chin.
She sat down as well.
"Mr. Holmes, I—"
"First," he said, interrupting her, "I'd like to apologize for my disguise. It was never meant to fool you. Only to get me in here without a lot of commotion. I'm a bit notorious these days."
She relaxed a little. "And the fake name?"
His eyes twinkled. "To get me in at all."
"Good. So you realize that I can't see you as a patient."
"I anticipated that you would feel that way. I do not see why that has to be."
"Mr. Holmes. You know why it does. Why play these games?"
"I never play games when I need someone's assistance. And I need yours most desperately, I assure you."
"I'm sorry. I'll be glad to find you an alternative. I'm sure there is someone who has an opening today. In fact I know one who does. She's excellent."
"I will see no other therapist."
She stared at him in frustration. "Why?"
"Because you are the therapist of my good friend, John Watson. My relationship with him is what I have come to speak with you about. You know him. It'll save time."
"Saving time does not interest me, Mr. Holmes. I have a process that will include boring questions you seem to feel you'll escape. You won't. Another therapist would be just as timely as I will be."
Sherlock shrugged. "I respect your professional process. Question away. I will see no one but you."
She folded her arms. "Does John know you're here?"
He looked taken aback. "No."
"So you don't have his permission?"
His face settled into a frown. "Certainly not."
She rose. "Then I can't see you Mr. Holmes. It would be unethical."
He didn't move. "All right then, call him. Just say I'm here asking for your help and would my having a session with you be all right. I would have preferred . . . but, no matter. Please go ahead"
She hesitated. "I'll have to call from the other room." She watched for a reaction to the idea that he wouldn't be able to listen to the call. There was none. He simply waved her out with a grand sweep of his hand.
She continued to hesitate. "There are no records in this room."
His smile faded. "I'm not here to break in to anything or to violate John's confidentiality with you in any way." He took his mobile out of his pocket and began checking something on it.
She still didn't move.
"Oh come on, Ms. Thompson," he said without looking up. "Whatever you and John have spoken about I can read on him anyway. I doubt there is anything secret from me in your files. Please. Go and call him. I'd like to get started."
She hesitated. "Even if he agrees, my own ethics—"
"Of course. Your responsibility to your patient is admirable. If you feel what I wish to discuss interferes with your obligation to J- anyone else, we will work through it or cease contact."
"You mean my responsibility to my other patient. You are also to be a patient apparently. At least that's what you've been leading me to believe."
He dropped the hand holding the phone in his lap and eyed her with a bored annoyance. "When you agree. Which you have not done at this point." He returned to checking his phone . "You can have your assistant come in to watch me if you wish. I won't take offense."
She moved to her desk and called the receptionist. "Please step in here for a moment. I need to make a call from your desk."
"Yes, ma'am."
Ella returned and sat down in her chair, facing him again.
"Well?" He turned off his phone. "Did he agree?"
"He did. I have to say I'm extremely curious. Why on Earth are you here?"
He put away his phone, uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "For a bit of knowledge."