I really need to stop making promises of completion because I have the attention span of a moth. Anyways! New fic based off of if Watson were like Kirsten Stevens, Lucy Liu's character on Set It Up. So some liberties are going to be taken. Enjoy!
Sherlock marches down the halls with the authority that he belongs in this building. He makes a mental note to leave a comment on the security, truly lackluster. He finds the office and the woman in question he's looking for with relative ease. He sighs making a move towards the glass doors. Yes, he drew the fortunate end of the deal compared to Marcus. The poor detective was breaking the news of Richard Otis to the ex-wife. He simply has to deal with the ex-fiancee.
He marches in unceremoniously much to the protests of the two women who were previously engaged in, seemingly, amicable conversation. "Joan Watson I presume?" He asks the woman sitting behind the desk.
"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here? Annalise! Your ass is so fired!" The woman barks. The other sits in the chair across from her wincing in what he believes is sympathy for this Annalise. She picks up the phone likely to dial for security.
"That won't be necessary. My name is Sherlock Holmes I am a consulting detective for the NYPD." He turns to the meek looking brunette who would be best described as a complete antithesis to Kitty. She's all soft colors and stunned looks. "Do you mind?"
"Do you mind?" Ms. Watson snaps. "We were having a meeting. You can't just barge in here like that."
"I've came to speak with you about your ex-fiancee Richard Otis." He drags out the name with a dash of disgust. He's more than aware of the man's past simply by the place he was killed.
"Rick?" She shares a look with the other woman who looks as startled as she.
"Look whatever you think he did, Rick's an asshole but he wouldn't do anything illegal right?" The brunette speaks up. "Sorry." She murmurs focusing on her computer again.
"He didn't do anything. He was murdered last night at a club he frequents downtown."
"Harper, go." The voice that once commanded the room is now laced with emotion.
"But-" The woman, Harper, stammers.
"Now." It would sound almost threatening if her voice hadn't cracked.
"I'll just…" She hurriedly packs her things. "I'll go." She points to the door before making her way out quickly.
"What do you need?" She asks with a frown. It seems she's pushed back any immediate reaction in favor of a one fitting that of a business meeting.
"I'll need your whereabouts for last night from eight until midnight as well as anyone who could vouch for an alibi."
"My assistant Annalise handles my schedule. We were both here until three in the morning last night. You could ask her or check the security feeds in the basement. In fact, I'll take you there myself." He's about to protest about the conflict of interest but she's already made up her mind and is marching out of the office. He's left to play catch up all the while partially wondering how she can walk so fast in towering heels.
She ignores the assistants multiple apologies all the while beelining to the elevators. "Ms. Watson I assure you I don't need you to guide me to the basement. I am more than capable of finding it on my own." She throws him an irritated look as the elevator doors slide open. She steps forwards but Sherlock catches her arm wrenching her back. What she'd failed to see was the elevator wasn't there at all. Loose ropes dangle in the empty elevator shaft where Watson had very nearly plummeted to her likely death considering they were on the sixteenth floor.
"What the hell!" She shouts before noticing the emptiness as well. Her eyes go wide and she immediately turns and goes back to her office without a further word. He has half a mind to follow her when he remembers the meek brunette. He pulls out his phone flicking on the flashlight and shining it down the shaft. Upon first judgement he only smells heated metal and some smoke. None of the copper or various other scents associated with a recently dead body. His sights only confirm his suspicion that nobody is at the bottom of the shaft, thankfully.
However one of the dangling ropes catches his attention. The rope doesn't have any of the frays associated with a sudden snap or time that would've unfurled the fibers. No, it looks recently cut. If he had to judge by the scent alone, he'd guess it was cut on a lower level floor. It is all too possible that the person guilty climbed up into the shaft while the elevator was in the basement and cut it there. No crash was heard otherwise panic would've erupted in the office.
Satisfied with his deduction thus far, he sends a quick text to Marcus reporting the cut wires and that he will be spending a bit more time in the office in order to inspect some potential leads. Whoever cut that line didn't want them going into the basement. He strongly doubts that it was Watson herself seeing as if he hadn't caught her she would've fallen in. The time it would take to descend seventeen flights of stairs would be more than enough time to erase any footage the actual perpetrator needs gone.
He takes wide steps back to her office to report his findings to Watson as he will likely need her help moving forwards. He strongly believes the perpetrator to be in this building so with the help of one of the heads he will no doubt be able to obtain all the records he needs. He hears her voice even before he enters demanding that maintenance place warnings on all entrances of the elevator to prevent further endangerment. He re-enters patiently waiting for her to finish on the phone before he could reveal his findings.
His eye catches a flash behind her, a red light that shone from a building on the other side of the street. From the looks of it, the building appears to be under renovation of some kind and weather would prevent anyone from working today. He spies the red light again, focusing on Watson this time who's oblivious to the sight. Three large steps get him behind her desk and yanking her out of the way of the large window before all hell breaks loose. He presses her against the furthest wall using his height and bulk to shelter her from the glass raining down on the office as bullets shatter the window where she once was standing. The phone falls amongst the wreckage and he remains holding her recounting that this is not once now but twice that he's saved this woman's life.
Someone is trying to kill Joan Watson.
