THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO HAS FAVOURITED, FOLLOWED OR REVIEWED.
It was growing dark and John was beginning to get tired. Lindsey handed him the schedule to see what they have next to do. He sighed when he realised that they had one more meeting for today. It was with a new client; one that neither John nor Lindsey would speak about, one of the criminal classes.
His eyes glanced over their busy day:
8am- Financial Meeting, Dreger House
10am- Media Consultation Meeting, Fenner way
11:30am- Lunch with Denton Academy
12:30pm- Meeting, Greenway Management
2pm- Peterkin Financial, Basic information
3pm- Huppouris surgery, Financial Meeting
5pm- Media Centre, Mayor Media representative
6:45pm- Thames Green, Meeting - Warehouse 3, Thames road
John didn't particularly like working with criminal clientele but a large portion of the incoming money came from them. He shared a look of slight apprehension with his PA before leaning forward and opening a hidden drawer in the thin wall that separated him and the driver. He pulled out a gun and slipped it into his waistband. He didn't want to use it but he knew it was better to be safe than sorry.
He was being cautious especially since he hadn't worked with Thames Green previous to this meeting. He knew the criminal world was more or less based on mutual trust. If John did his job and stuck to his word then everything should, in theory, go okay.
"Maybe next time we will meet in their office. I'm never keen on these warehouse based meetings." John tried to reassure Lindsey as he could see her shifting nervously in her seat. He realised that it was probably worse for her since she didn't go around chasing criminals in her spare time.
"Yes, sir. That would be nice." He could hear the slight wavering in her voice.
"Relax. They might be just like those other ones you like, what's it called?" John paused thinking.
"Do you mean Slavish Ltd, sir?"
"Yes! They might be just like them for all we know."
John watched as a small smile formed on his assistant's face. The Slavish Ltd is a company that often comes to Watson Financial for advisement or loans. It is run by an extremely enthusiastic group of Slavic bothers. Lindsey finds them hilarious as they are often making jokes and having fun. They are by far her favourite clients even though they are technically criminals. John always used them as an example whenever Lindsey was worried about new "Black market", as she liked to call them, clients.
She was much more relaxed by the time they were driving down the long road with large dull warehouses along each side. Their driver slowed the car as they reached the third warehouse. John nodded at his PA before sliding out of the car before turning and helping Lindsey out.
The assistant watched as her boss lost his friendly personality and instead became all business. This was now the John Watson who owned almost 50% of all financial business in London, almost 60% of London's media and almost 40% of the legal businesses. He was also the man who kept his success away from his genius flatmate. He was on a mission and no amount of persuasion or temptation could sway him.
They walked swiftly towards the entrance of the large grey warehouse and John knocked firmly on the door. They only had to wait a couple of seconds before the door was swung open to reveal a large thug. He didn't say anything just stood looking from John to Lindsey.
Lindsey could tell John was holding in a sigh, "John Watson, from Watson Financial." John kept his tone clipped and precise. He was practically radiating authority.
"Yes, I know." The thug grunted while scratching his closely shaved head.
This time John did sigh, "Are we allowed in then?"
"Yes." The thug said before slowly moving out of the way. One too many punches to the face, John mentally joked but it did little to lighten his mood.
The thug was tall, probably over 6ft, and well-built but his lack of brain cells made him seem almost completely unthreatening. John followed the thug through to what looked like an office. It had a large polished table in the middle with four suited men sat on one side.
They all looked native to London but were dressed like typical gangsters from an American movie. Three of the men sat looking miserable and completely uninterested when John and Lindsey entered the room but one of them stood, a wide smile breaking on his face.
"Mr Watson! I'm Michael. Please have a seat." The man had a thick London accent which reminded John slightly of Lestrade's. He tried to keep his thoughts away from the police force especially when talking with criminals.
John took the seat that was offered to him and Lindsey sat in the free chair next to him. John looked down at the sheet his PA had handed to him. It was full of different deals that they could do. They were all small and wouldn't be noticed if the police were to check either companies' books. Working with the police on a regular basis had a few benefits.
"I've been told that it is correct to tell you this before we start. We do not do business if you murder, company policy. We can tolerate fraud, theft or anything along those lines but just not murder or guns for hire. If you do anything like that I'd appreciate it if you tell us now so we can leave. Just for your piece of mind we don't go to the authorities in these cases. We simply pretend that this meeting never happened. So do you think we can proceed or is it best we leave?" John explained to the men with a serious expression which somehow still seemed trustworthy.
Michael looked slightly disappointed, "Ah, then I am sorry for wasting your time, Mr Watson."
"It's no problem. That is why we make all clients aware of this to begin with." John gave a polite smile before rising from his seat.
"Here," Michael said while gesturing towards the exit, "Let me show you out."
They followed the criminal back to the entrance in silence save for the clicking of expensive shoes on concrete. He opened the door out and held it open. Lindsey made her way back to the car knowing that John always spoke to the rejected clients for a minute before joining her. She didn't know what they spoke about but he always did. No matter what their crimes were.
Just before the criminal tried to shut the door the doctor held it to stop it being closed. Michael looked at him in confusion and slight caution.
"Here," John held out a business card, "They might be able to help you more than we can."
The criminal took the card with a smile, "You are a good man, Mr Watson."
John smiled before handing them his own business card, "If you ever need any help which isn't to do with guns for hire then please don't hesitate to call."
The doctor quickly made his way back into the car. Just before entering the dark town car he stopped to wave at Michael who was waiting for them to depart. John stepped into the car and lent forward to speak to the driver.
"That's all for today so if you'd just drop us both home. That would be great, thanks." John said cheerfully happy that the day was over and done with.
"Certainly, Doctor Watson." The driver said as he pulled away from the warehouse.
The drive back to their homes was in silence. They were both reflecting on the busy day. John was about to ask Lindsey something when they pulled up outside her flat. She smiled across at him, "Half day tomorrow, isn't it?"
"Yeah, Sherlock is back in the evening so I'll need to sort the flat out." He let out a long suffering sigh at the thought of cleaning all his papers away. Lindsey noticed the sigh.
"How long are you going to keep doing this?" She asked gently.
"Doing what?" John was sure he already knew the answer.
"You can't keep switching lives like this. You're exhausted. You're supposed to get some rest when Sherlock is away but instead you're just as busy, if not more." She tried to smile reassuringly at her boss.
"I know," He mumbled. "But I don't know what I would give up. I love it all so much, the chaos with Sherlock and the amazing organisation and planning with you." She blushed at the praise.
Lindsey nodded and started to step out of the car when John grabbed her wrist, "Thank you so much!" He smiled at the PA, "Oh and do you think if I ordered the oven tonight it could be here tomorrow?"
Lindsey chuckled at the optimism, "I'd doubt it, sir. Although, maybe with some extra persuasion they might be more willing."
She raised her eyebrows in a way that said 'Money'. He nodded absently as he thought about bribes. She waved to her boss as the dark car drove off towards 221b Baker Street. The blonde woman turned and let herself into her expensive flat. She was lucky to work for a boss who paid so well.
John arrived home less than 5 minutes later. He immediately started up his laptop without even changing out of his suit. He loosened his tie and pulled off his jacket, folding it over the arm of the sofa.
While waiting for his laptop to start up he started to take papers and files up into his bedroom where he would spend tomorrow filing them away into their correct places where Sherlock would never find them.
After the living room was empty of his work the doctor checked on his laptop. He groaned when he realised that it hadn't fully booted up yet. He pondered whether buying a new one was wise when he lived with the great Sherlock Holmes. The detective would take one look at the new device, estimate the value, and then demand to know where this money had come from.
The laptop suddenly bleeped to show it was ready for John to select a user. John quickly clicked on the ID which showed his name and profile icon. From then onwards, the process with surprisingly fast on his old laptop. He pulled out the list of ovens Lindsey had provided for him. He quickly typed the one his assistant had circled into Google. A list of shops and websites popped onto the screen. He selected one that was for a shop relatively close to Baker Street.
He quickly wrote the address down and shot out of the flat pulling his jacket on, hoping that he would get there before they closed. He really hoped their 'late night shopping' guarantee still was in place. The doctor quickly caught a cab. The expensive suit made the cab drivers think 'Money and large tip' making it incredibly easy to get a car.
The doctor arrived at the shop with minutes to spare. The look on the owners face showed he wasn't happy at the prospect of staying open later. John knew a very quick way to 'turn that frown upside down', as the saying went. He strode confidently up to the old shop owner and slapped the list of ovens onto the checkout followed by the other list of microwaves.
"I'm here to make a large order." John said whilst raising an eyebrow that said 'I know what I'm doing'. He looks like a rat, the thought quickly crossed John's mind.
The owner smiled pleasantly at John but his eyes were hungry. He's obviously one of those people who can just smell money.
"The ones that are circled, sir?" The older man asked hopefully.
John nodded making the man's eyes light up. The man hurried out to the back of the shop and John listened as he heard the man scurrying around. Yes, definitely a rat.
A loud curse suddenly made John frown. The man came sloping back into the front of the shop with his shoulders hanging slightly. John raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, sir. We only have one left and that's been reserved." The man apologized.
"To who?" John didn't want to have to bribe the shopkeeper but he knew at this time every other shop would be closed and he had to keep his promise to Mrs Hudson.
"Well, myself actually. My wife has been insisting on a new one."
"How much would it cost to unreserve it?" John asked while furrowing his brow in what would appear to be concentration.
"I'm not quite sure what you mean, sir." The man knew exactly what John was suggesting.
"To take the reserve off it. How much?" John sighed impatiently.
The man looked John up and down as if he was trying to figure out how much he could charge him, "Oh. I don't know. The price it will take to ship a new one in. Possibly £200 plus." The man said slowly to give the impression he was working out the price.
"If I pay an extra £200 the oven will be delivered and installed with the microwave and a cookbook of my choice. Tomorrow morning." John demanded firmly. He put on a face he usually reserved for stubborn consulting detectives.
The man thought for a minute before agreeing and shaking hands with John, "So the oven, microwave and a cookbook, delivery and installation? £1000"
John shook his head, "No. Free installation."
"You're not in a position to barter, sir. All other shops will be closed for the night so your aim for the tomorrow morning installation will be completely blown out of the water." The man smirked slightly, pleased to get a one up on the professional looking businessman.
The doctor sighed again and pulled his BlackBerry out of his jacket pocket. He started typing swiftly on the small keypad, "I didn't want to go this route but I suppose, if needs must."
"What don't you want to do?" The man shifted nervously. He knew he had been attempting to rip John off slightly although he looked like he could afford it with his designer suit.
John ignored the man's questions. He mumbled to himself before making a small triumphant noise. The shop owner glanced around in panic. Scared that the overpriced police would jump out of a washing machine or something, john suspected.
"Yes," John muttered. "I wondered where I had heard the name "Chef's Kitchen Appliances" before."
"I'm sorry, sir? What do you mean?" The man behind the till stammered.
A dazzling smile suddenly sprang across John's face. He had his businessman persona on.
"Hi. I don't think we have ever been properly introduced. I'm John Watson of Watson Financial. I believe you have been speaking with one of my staff about your financial situation. I believe we were the only company to accept you for financial management." The soldier watched as the older man swallowed, "We don't do business with con-artists or criminals," That was a lie but the shopkeeper didn't know that. "And it looks to me like you were charging an awful lot just then. So let me ask you again. How much will that be?"
"How would £650 be for you, sir?" The owner asked as if he was trying to impress his mother. The man's wide smile made john feel sick. He was seriously attempting to please here.
"Yes. That will do perfectly." John smiled charmingly at the elder man.
The paperwork was quickly sighed, money agreed and products selected when John was heading out of the door. The small bell on the top of the door rang as John wrenched the wood away from the frame. The suited man stopped and turned to face the shop owner, "I normally only visit the larger businesses personally but I might start keeping a careful eye on you. Bye till tomorrow!"
He waved cheerfully before striding down the street. He didn't like using his power and money to get people to do things but it was for Mrs Hudson! That had to justify it.
He raced back to Baker Street and up into the flat. He sighed rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to relax. He looked at the clock and felt like sighing again. He held it in because he had been noticing recently that he has been sighing an awful lot. It was only a bit past 9 but he was tempted to go to bed early and just collapse on his bed.
He decided that it was the way to go so toed off his shoes and pulled himself up the stairs to his bedroom. He quickly slipped into his pyjamas before lying down on his bed and tugging the covers over himself. His last thought before drifting off was Hmm, Sherlock's home tomorrow. That'll be nice. I wonder how the case is going.