The Demands of the Job
AN: I own nothing but the plot
Chapter 2
Or
You're Kidding Right?
John awoke the next day to a quiet home. Sherlock had sulked all day the day before and it would appear that was his plan for today. Honestly, it was like living with a 4 year old, except this one could actually out smart you without thinking or planning it.
Heading to the kitchen, John stuck his head into the living room, the tea he'd made for his flatmate was still there, untouched and it looked like Sherlock hadn't moved an inch in that time either. John often wondered how he could be so still so long and not cramp up.
"There is no point to this mood of yours Sherlock, it is not going to help anything. Please get up, have some tea and toast and change. I have work in an hour. I do not want to worry about you all day and whether you have passed out from dehydration or malnutrition, when did you eat last anyway?"
All he received in reply was a disgruntled grunt. Shaking his head, John got ready and left for work; leaving another cup of tea next to his friend.
Sarah had been understanding of the whole situation but had not been able to find a fill in for his night shift in two days. He was going to have to be on call. Lestrade would just have to deal with it. Thinking about it, John had no idea what he had done to deserve such an understanding employer. Still best not to rock the boat, he turned his phone off before entering the clinic
Arriving home at 5, Sherlock was found by the window torturing his violin. Poor Mrs Hudson, unable to stand the noise any more was wearing earplugs when John had gone past her.
Putting his things down and slumping down in what was affectionately known as his chair by some unspoken agreement, he waited two minutes before speaking.
"Enough Sherlock, that poor instrument, the neighbours and Mrs Hudson have done nothing to warrant such behaviour. Put it down" his voice calm but raised to be heard over the racket.
Sherlock only spared him a quick glance. Not saying anything but merely glancing at him, Sherlock put the violin down and stood looking out the window.
"Are you going to talk at all Sherlock?"
No answer
"Right, well you are welcome to act like a child if you so see fit, but do not complain to me when Lestrade stops handing you cases. We leave in 10 minutes. The meeting is near the Station and I thought we'd grab a bite to eat on the way."
Still nothing.
"Fine, just be ready in ten"
Ten minutes later found the duo in a cab and heading towards The Yard. Since Sherlock was still not communicative, John decided on Greek food. He knew of a place on the way. He ordered for Sherlock, who touched nothing, paid for Sherlock, who didn't say thank you and paid for the cab both to the cafe and to the counselling centre. John didn't mind. Not really. He was used to Sherlock's mannerisms and dark moods.
Upon entering the allocated room, they found the required members of Scotland Yard already present and talking quietly among themselves. They looked up as John and Sherlock entered. Anderson went to say something, but the counsellor walked in right behind them and so he closed his mouth again.
"Good evening all, my name is Mrs Cassidy Comfort, and I'll be your personal guide into teamwork and understanding this week. Let's get started shall we?"
Everyone took a seat. The chairs set up in a circle so everyone could see.
"Well then, the first thing we should do is ensure we know each others names?" Mrs Comfort started.
"Lets start with you shall we dear," Mrs Comfort said gesturing to Donovan.
Going around the circle, each spoke in turn
"Sally Donovan"
"Marc Anderson"
"Gregory Lestrade"
"John Watson"
Silence
"Don't mind him Mrs Comfort, he's just sulking, his name is Sherlock Holmes" John supplied helpfully
"Yeah, he's the reason we are all here tonight!"
"ANDERSON!" barked Greg.
"Now now Greg, this is a place of free expression, why do you feel it is Sherlock's fault you're all here tonight Marc?"
"The Freak is nothing but trouble, he comes into a crime scene like it is a Christmas party, spouts off all this stuff, like he's planted or planned it, insults everyone within hearing range, runs off, steals evidence and treats us like we're his patsies"
"Is this true Sherlock?" Mrs Comfort asked
Still nothing
"Perhaps I can enlighten you Mrs Comfort?" not giving her a chance to answer John continued quickly, yet still politely,
"Sherlock is a consulting detective, he is also a genius, he does not plant evidence or plan crimes, he solves them. He enjoys the rush he gets from a difficult problem and from preventing further murders or crimes. Despite what the yard thinks, he does care, he just feels that showing emotion slows him down; and as for Andersons scathing comment on put downs, Sherlock has NEVER put anyone down until they have said something derogatory or stupid first. Anderson and Donovan are both prime examples of bullies. No respect, no conscience and no understanding. Sherlock has never started fights with these two, he merely finishes them."
John had been sitting quite still and relaxed throughout his spiel and the others were left just gapped at him.
"Also, finding evidence and bringing home is not a crime. If he waited around for you lot to find it, it would be gone before you even started looking," John added.
Below the belt but fair, well done John thought Sherlock, he was listening; just he had decided that the whole situation was beneath him.
"I see, and how about you John, what do you do?"
"I'm a doctor and his blogger" John said thrusting a thumb at the still quiet man besides him
"Are you two an item?"
"Oh for the love of! I am straight, he's married to his work, if two females can live together in the same flat and be friends why cannot two men?" John crossed his arms and stared at the scribbling Mrs Comfort.
"Yeah right" came the quiet muttering of Anderson, Donovan sniggering quietly next to him, everyone else ignored them.
"You do not believe Sherlock is as I've said do you Mrs Comfort? Yet you know we have never met and we did not know you'd be our counsellor correct?"
"Yes...Why John?"
"Alright Sherlock, just this once mind, and please be civil"
Sherlock looked at John, really looked, his friend was being serious. He'd already deduced her life story the moment he'd laid eyes on her, and John was letting him share? This was too good to be true, he let rip.
"Married twice, divorced once, widowed once, cannot have children, but has tried, allergic to peanuts, two cats, once ginger, one black and a parrot. Lives near a park, doesn't drive, walked here tonight, thick, took 2 tries get her degree, mediocre in her job, hence the reason for agreeing to these fast seasons so readily, has no other clients."
As Sherlock stopped to take a breath, John stopped him.
"Point taken Mrs Comfort?"
The room just stared at them
"I, I, how?"
"Indentations and tan lines on the wedding finger, yet no rings, neat, tidy and awake, despite the hour, you could have a nanny or sitter but they are expensive, this is the first work you have had in a while, as already mentioned. You had curry for tea, we can smell it, but you carry an epi-pen, peanuts are the most common allergy. You have a feather in your hair, fresh, your pets, the hair on your trouser legs, different heights, different colours, cats rub, dogs don't all the hair is going the same way. You have mud on your shoe despite being in a city street; you walked; only mud around here is in parks. The splash back on your hems suggests a slight miss step in your left foot. You're 30-35 years old and only just practicing, 2 attempts at the degree or a past profession. You lack of intelligence and poor questing suggests the first. 'Is this true Sherlock?' you are a counsellor, not a teacher, learn the difference."
John just smirked, looking over at the red faced D.I, and winking, he turned his attention back to the councillor
"Point and match I believe, think we can call it a night Greg? Mrs Comfort is in tears"
"um... yeah, might be best"
John handed Mrs Comfort a tissue,
"Come on Sherlock lets go home."
They left, leaving the upset counsellor with the three police people.
"See you tomorrow" Sherlock called over his shoulder
"Be nice Sherlock"
"Sorry John"