A/N: I don't own any of the "Elementary" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my natove language.
Remember, the events of this story are leading up to the Valentine's Day.
Sherlock also uses the alias "Shawn" in the episode 2x4 "Poison Pen".
Sherlock was studying the bodies, autopsy reports in his hand, while Joan was standing at the side, reading the recently issued forensic reports about the letters. Reginald was looking around, a tired look on his face.
"Jenny died as a result of two gunshot wounds to the chest two days ago at around seven am", he informed them. "Danny died as a result of a single gunshot wound to the head, also two days ago at around seven am. No other injuries, nothing under their fingernails, all tox screens came back clean. There were traces of gunshot residue on Danny's right hand."
"We are dealing with a smart-and cruel-man", Sherlock theorized.
"No clues about the letters either", Joan noted, still reading. "Very common brand of envelope, stamp, ink used to write the address, marker used to write the taunt, and the paper tissue. Paper and ink regarding print outs is also pretty common and cheap, probably from a public computer. Library, computer cafe... No fingerprints or DNA. Only the victim's blood was found on the tissue."
Sherlock grimaced, still observing the bodies. "He did a great job with making his crime look like a murder/suicide, but his vanity got the better of him."
~TWO DAYS LATER~
#
It was eight am and Joan was still asleep. That, like always, didn't stop Sherlock from barging into her room like he always did. He pulled all the drapes up, then opened her closet, already picking up the clothes for her. "Rise and shine, Watson !"
Watson moved to lie on the side, opening her eyes with a groan. She noticed that Sherlock had two files under his hand. "What is it?", she asked.
"Our undercover mission starts today", Sherlock explain excitedly, throwing a T-shirt and jeans on the bed in front of Joan.
"What?", Joan exclaimed, sitting up in the bed. She instantly wasn't as sleepy.
"See for yourself", Sherlock said, handing her one of the files. She took it, immediately taking her reading eyeglasses and putting them on.
"We are now mr. and ms. Morgan", he explained as she opened the file.
Joan fixed her hair, looking at the paper tiredly. "Well, at least you didn't use "Smith"".
"My name-alias-is Shawn, yours is Jane. You work as a surgeon, I work as a landscape architect. We already have a Facebook page. One for each, I mean. Plenty of gleeful info and cheery photographs. No dirty things."
Joan looked up at Sherlock. "How classy of you." She ran her hand through her hair. "Do you seriously expect that nobody will recognize us? Figure out our cover?"
"Well, we do our best to stay low profile", Sherlock reminded her, while she started going through the print outs of the Facebook pages. "Now it's time for that to pay off. And, hopefully, we won't have to be undercover for long. Not to mention, we have no relations to that neighborhood."
Joan frowned. "Are these time stamps saying that our Facebook profiles were created in 2011?" She continued flipping through the pages, stopping at the photograph showing her and Sherlock standing at the Eiffel tower, hugged and smiling. "And a photograph of us in Paris?" She looked at several other photographs. "Rome?"
"A meticulous ruse perpetrated by me, with the help of my irregulars from "Everyone". And photoshop."
Joan sighed. "Nice."
Sherlock put another file on the bed in front of her. "Things to learn..."
"What things?", Joan asked, picking up the file.
Sherlock started counting. "When we did we meet. When we got married. How many people were at the wedding ceremony. Our pet names..."
Joan widened her eyes. "Pet names?"
"Several options. Some may be a bit "hard-core"..."
Joan snickered at the pages. At first, she didn't even notice Sherlock pulling the ring box out of his pocket and handing it to her.
"Our wedding rings!", he exclaimed.
Joan felt a thrill rush through her body before she opened the ring box. She stared in awe at the two rings on the bottom. "Are these the real diamonds?", she whispered.
Sherlock nodded his head. "I am familiar with the seller. I know things. It was a piece of cake."
"Wow", Joan exhaled before closing the box and putting it on her bedside table. She started going through the pages.
"List of places we have to visit", Sherlock listed. " Furniture shops, movie theater, restaurants... make the impression of happy newlyweds and show off around the neighborhood in order to flush our man out."
Joan grinned, looking up at him. "Sounds like fun."
#
Within two hours, they were standing in the living room, at Jones' home. Kimberly, a young brown haired woman, a tech expert, stood in the center of the room, giving them instructions. Joan looked around. The house was nice, but the thought of living in the place where five murders have happened still gave her chills.
"There are high quality security cameras in all rooms, except for the bathroom and the bedrooms", Kimberly explained, walking around. "There are some outside too, all hidden. No high security on any of the doors or windows, no visible alarm. We don't want to make it too hard for him, make him suspicious, cause him to back off. There are, however, hidden silent alarms under each door and window. You can turn them on and off using those apps that we installed into your phones. You should keep them turned on starting from late at night to early in the morning. Still, be careful not to turn them on by accident." She pointed to some areas on the floor. "We marked them with this lines, you see." She stopped and looked them in the eyes. "If any of the alarms go off, the patrol will know, immediately. They will be in the house accross the street. I left you a police radio, just in case, but be discreetly with it." She glared at Sherlock. "And NO gun."
"We won't need to wear any recording devices or anything when we go outside, right?", Joan asked, slightly concerned.
Kimberly shook her head. "No. But be alert."
They exchanged some more tips and warnings, and then Kimberly left. Sherlock looked after her for some time, then turned around to face Joan, smiled, and picked up the first moving box up from the floor. "And so we start", he declared.
#
Joan looked around the bedroom one more time, running a hand through her hair. "Well, other than the bleach stains all over the place, this is nice."
Sherlock nodded his head. "They do look better than the blood stains."
Joan sighed. "Most definitely." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Where are you going to sleep?"
"The guest room. There is one in the back. You could have slept in there, but, apparently, the lack of bathroom and heat is an important thing for you."
"Which is why I insist you should be sleeping in the living room."
Sherlock grimaced. "Too distracting."
He was checking all the details in the room one more time, preparing to leave.
"What about you and Fiona?", Joan asked carefully.
Sherlock stood still, eying her suspiciously. "Usual things."
Joan chuckled, making Sherlock glare at her. "Something funny?"
"You, Fiona and "usual" in the same sentence."
Sherlock sighed, pacing around the room.
"If you must know, I focused on my work, detective work, and my partnership with you quite greatly, especially as of lately, and that caused us to... part ways."
Joan blushed, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I'm sorry", he said.
"It's not your fault", Sherlock assured her. "And it wasn't ugly. We actually remained friends."
#
The boutique that they walked into didn't look too expensive, but some parts were definitely glamurous. There were several nice eucaliptus trees growing near by, outside.
"Not too... money demanding", Sherlock explained. "But sufficiently... classy, so to say. And popular. A perfect way to attract somebody's attention."
A clerk, red haired woman in her forties, walked over to them before they even had the chance to walk to the counter. "Hello", she greeted them cheerfully. "How can I help you?"
"Oh, I-we-are just looking for an... evening outfit, a dress-for me", Joan replied casually. "Maybe new shoes. We are going out tonight. And we will again in... the near future." She chuckled. "Kind of a... big thing."
"I doubt that will last long", Sherlock commented proudly. "She has a peculiar tendency, more of an ability, to look great in pretty much anything."
"Stop it", Joan whispered, trying not to cringe.
"Well, it is true", Sherlock continued,
"You are married?", the clerk asked.
"As of very recently, yes", Joan replied, showing her right hand, the ring clearly noticeable.
"Nice", the red haired commented before turning around. "Follow me. We have some great new pieces."
Joan followed after her, with Sherlock in tow. "Even the demeanors are fake in there", she commented under her breath.
#
Sherlock was sitting on the chair in front of the changing room, growing impatient. He didn't know why though. He took a deep breath, waiting for Joan to come out. The idea of seeing her into a new dress felt strangely... tiltrating to him. Once again, he didn't know why. And that was rare. But again, they were on a dangerous mission, so the excitement was understandable.
Finally, she showed up. Sherlock shivered, feeling a jolt go down his stomach. Joan was wearing a black evening dress, pretty comfortable, but still leaning up her curves closely. It was low cut, so he had a very nice view of her long, smooth legs. She looked at him questioningly, as he squirmed, fondling his hands together.
"So?"
"It'a great", he said. He smiled slightly. "It fits you... very well. It is great."
Joan smiled, tilting her head to the side. "Thank you." She frowned. "I have one more to try on..."
"Go ahead", Sherlock encouraged her, almost too eagerly. "We have to act natural. Make an impression."
Joan glared at him. "Sure", she mused, sounding a bit suspicious. She turned around and was about to head back into the changing room. Sherlock's eyes centered on her high heeled shoes. The dim lights in the room reflected against her skin very nicely. He shivered.
"Joan", he called, snapping back to attention. She stopped and turned to face him. Sherlock looked around, making sure that nobody was close by, then took a step closer. "It occurred to me... the killer didn't send any letters after murdering the Miller family. He sent the letter now, referencing to all five murders. Why?"
Joan frowned, standing still. "I don't know. Maybe he is... accelerating. Getting more brazen, wanting attention. I heard that such things happen."
Sherlock nodded his head. "Maybe." He decided to focus on one of the shockingly dull magazines available in there while Joan was busy changing.
#
They had the seats by the large restaurant window, though some distance away from other guests. Joan wore the black dress she had tried on that day: despite her insistence, Sherlock hadn't purchased anything, and insisted on wearing his old tuxedo. It was already pretty dark outside.
"This is a nice neighborhood", Sherlock said, looking at the street. "We made a good choice", he concluded before taking a sip of water.
"I can hardly remember when was the last time we had the chance to go out like this", Joan said, giggling. "I can't imagine going back to work soon."
As she finished the sentence, she carefully observed the young man few tables away, in the reflection of her glasses, left on the table near her plate. He was sitting there alone for quite some time, often looking at them. Sherlock noticed Joan's actions with a smirk. The man, however, soon stood up, paid for his dinner, and left the restaurant.
Joan took one more bite, and Sherlock leaned over, his hot breath tickling her face. "You're doing great", he whispered. "Keep it up."
Joan smiled, leaning closer to him. "This is so weird."
Sherlock remained silent for some time, looking her in the eyes. "It's only weird because it doesn't feel... forced."
And once again, he had been looking her straight in the eyes, that weird "knowing" look over his whole place. Joan stared back at him, her mouth partially widened into a smile, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Sherlock chuckled silently, his hand moving a few inches forward. Joan figured that he was probably just going for his drinking glass, not her hand (that wasn't that far away), but, for some reason, that made her snap out of it... whatever "it" was. She straightened herself up, leaning back into her chair, moving his body away from him. Sherlock stood there like frozen, straddled slightly, his hand stretched out: but he soon picked up his drinking glass and took a sip of water, as calm as ever. Joan sighed in relief.
"I told my mother about this", she said more silently, thus obviously referring to their undercover operation. "She couldn't believe it. She still can't, probably."
"Be lucky that you were even allowed to tell her", Sherlock said.
"Isn't it weird that we are in here now?", Sherlock asked. "The Valentine's Day is in a few days."
"We will visit many places that day", Sherlock informed her, eating his stake hungrily. "It's the best to start right away though."
Joan gazed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Maybe we are looking at this the wrong way", she whispered, trying to sound scary. "Maybe it's the house."
"If your agenda is to convince me to watch "Shining" with you again, I assure that is not going to happen", Sherlock replied calmly.
Joan was about to comment on that when Sherlock 's ringtone went off. He pulled out his phone and read the text, his eyebrows raising up. "Something important?", Joan asked.
"I asked detective Bell to go through the history of that house", he explained. "The early history, from the very beginnings. One of the construction workers assigned to the job got injured in the process, Jack Millworth. He sued the construction company, but ended up losing." He looked up at Joan. "Soon afterward, his wife divorced him."
