Jim frowned. He really didn't like his IT job, but it got him one step closer to Sherlock Holmes. But for the moment, he was unpleasantly near to Mike Stamford, whose email wasn't working. The larger man loomed over him, despite being shorter, and Jim poked around the computer until it fixed itself. It was stupid that it needed his attention, because Jim thought that anyone with half a brain could see that the network cable had come partially unplugged.
"There you go, Dr. Stamford," Jim said, pretending to be gentle gay Jim and not psychotic murderous Jim. "All working now."
"Oh, thank you so much," replied the man with a hint of a Welsh accent. "I can never get my head round these things."
Because you're stupid, thought Jim.
"It's okay, that's what I'm here for," Jim actually said. "Besides, I'd be out of a job if everyone could fix the computers." He smiled.
"That's true," Stamford said. "Well, I'll be sure to call you if I need anything."
"Okay. Bye!" Jim left the room to head to the head of the pathology lab, Fitzroy's, office. He hated this job, he really really hated it, but he kept on at it just to keep an eye on Sherlock.
"Hi, um, what did you need?" Jim stepped into the room.
"I need the network set up—I'm trying something new with it." The man treated Jim like a servant—someone whose only purpose in life was to fix his woes. Jim decided that one day, he'd treat Fitzroy to the pleasure of meeting his real self. He smiled at the thought.
"Okay," his persona said, while his mind was screaming "do it yourself, you prick." He set up the network, with the security that even a simpleton could figure out how to get in (which was the point), and set off to his next stop, the mortuary.
"Oh, hi, I'm Molly," said the woman. Her computer was having trouble because it kept losing files, and so Jim from IT was called in to help. Not his day job, but it worked. And now Molly was rambling.
"And he looks at me like I'm not there or like I'm a computer or something, and it's really annoying. Sorry, I'm rambling." She blushed.
Jim realized she was talking about Holmes, and decided to play along. "No, it's fine, I like your voice." He paused to give the impression of awkwardness.
"Oh!"
The silence was extended. "Uh…there, it's working now." He looked at her. Yes, she would do nicely. "Do you want to have a drink after work or something?" He smiled charmingly. She seemed startled, looked down at her shoes, and then back up at him.
"Sure!"
That was how Jim and Molly met. He never told her he was acting or why he thought they'd work well as a team, but one thing was true: from that day forward, his job was much more tolerable.