Thank you for your follows and favs, and thank you for reading :)
Disclaimer: 'Sherlock' belongs to all the important people that you know. Also, credit to Ariane DeVere for her series transcripts that had been extremely helpful.
linebreak linebreak linebreak linebreak
When Sherlock said bank, she didn't expect it to be an investment bank in a shiny glass and steel building in the City. Not exactly her natural habitat. Holmes didn't seem to blend in either, but it was less obvious, what with his I-own-the-world attitude. She sighed internally, which was becoming a rather annoying habit around Sherlock. Had I known, I would have put some nicer clothes. Vanity, thee name is woman, indeed.
They ended up in an impersonal office, all straight lines and efficiency, that made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. She had always preferred older furniture, something that had a story to tell, and that was also part of the reason 221b felt so homey from the start. Glancing through the glass-door at all those suit-wearing men and impeccably dressed women on high heels, Joan fidgeted uneasily with the hem of her worn greyish jumper peaking under the jacket. Get a grip, Watson… Why am I here, already?
A man around Sherlock's age walked in, suit and all, grinning like a cat who just ate the canary. "Sherlock Holmes!" he exclaimed, stretching his hand out.
Sherlock own grin felt dreadfully fake. "Sebastian." The newly named Sebastian clasped Sherlock's hand gleefully. Joan started to get an unpleasant vibe from the whole situation.
"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Judging by Sherlock's expression, it was still too soon. Joan steeled for her round of introductions.
Both men were much taller than her (unfair, bloody unfair that's what it is), and a lesser person would have been at least slightly intimidated when they turned to her, Sebastian the banker with a politely raised eyebrow and Sherlock with a surprisingly smug glint in his eyes. "This is my friend, Joan Watson." He bloody knows I hate that name, she gave Sherlock a dark look that promised dire retribution.
Maybe she shouldn't have displayed her bad mood that openly, since the smarmy banker immediately latched on it: "Friend?" The way he eyed her like a piece of rather unsavory meat, with gaze straying longer than necessary on her chest, made Joan's temper skyrocket again.
"Yes, that's what he said" she drawled slowly, mentally appraising whether the man's tie could be used for on-spot strangulation.
Looking slightly unsettled, Sebastian shook her hand nevertheless. "Right" he gave her a one-over again. "Right." The look he gave Sherlock reminded Joan that ties could be used as a gag too. "Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?" Sherlock absently shook his head, observing Joan from the corner of his eyes, probably confused by her behavior. Can't help it, mate. The long-lived dislike of falsely polite self-entitled bastards was winning over the general irritation regarding her given name.
"No" the ex-soldier gritted through her teeth. She could feel that Sherlock was uneasy around the banker, and couldn't fathom why they even came here. Those bills weren't such a big problem. There was no need to invest and play the market. Normally. She certainly hoped so.
"No?" Sebastian was all smiles again. "We're all sorted here, thanks" he said to his secretary, whom Joan didn't even notice before that very moment. Damn, that girl is quiet.
A silence settled in the room, with only Sebastian looking perfectly at ease. Joan sat down with a good imitation of the polite smile everyone was sporting in the building (is it a flashmob or something?) and seethed internally. Sherlock, however, felt the need to do small talk, for whatever reason: "So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot."
"Well, some" Sebastian purred.
"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" Sherlock insisted.
The banker laughed, rather unpleasantlyin Joan's biased opinion, as if hearing a good joke. "Right, you're doing your thing." He turned his attention to Joan. "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."
"It's not a trick" she heard a quiet protest to her left and frowned.
"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story."
"Yes, I've seen him do it" she answered on auto-pilot, while her mind rewound the conversation. They clearly (probably) weren't here to invest or anything. The smarmy git in a suit knew Sherlock, but didn't keep regular contact. Sherlock wasn't particularly fond of the man either.
"Put the wind up everybody" the git in question continued. This is a business transaction, she decided. And Sebastian here enjoys bossing people around… "God, we hated him." Joan's eyes hardened instantly at the cruel words, said with a toothy smile, as if this gets the bite off. The concealed but sharp inhale from Holmes was enough for her to reconsider the ingrained British politeness and pull out her inner yankie (nights spent stitching up men and women from all horizons could muddle the cultural identity for anyone).
When the banker made to further elaborate, the ex-soldier pivoted on the chair to address Sherlock instead of his insufferable acquaintance, in a mild and conversational voice: "Sherlock, why are we here again?" Unused to be dismissed in such cavalier manner, Sebastian sputtered and blinked at them owlishly. Sherlock looked rather surprised himself, but also glad for the non sequitur.
He composed himself quickly enough: "Why, Joan" - she glared again at the use of her name and the man finally got the hint, sending her a sheepish half-smile – "because Sebastian here asked for my help." Damn right he did, and he'd better act like it now, or I'm dragging you out of here. Or throw him out the window. It depends. Joan's murderous thoughts were interrupted in turn by the banker clasping his hands together, somewhat miffed about his fun being ruined.
"Yes, well, I'm glad you could make it. We've had a break-in."
linebreak linebreak linebreak linebreak
Forty minutes later, after Joan had the questionable pleasure of getting an advance cheque from Sebastian and the definite pleasure (and much amusement) of seeing Sherlock work his magic on the trading floor, even if he wasn't sharing his findings yet, they were finally strolling out of the bank.
"Two trips around the world this month. How did you know?" she asked softly on the escalator. Sherlock gave her a mysterious smile, but remained silent. "Come oooon" she pleaded light-heartedly. "How did you know?"
The detective considered her for a second, does he see anything new every single time?, then… "Did you see his watch?"
"His watch...?"
"The time was right, but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice, but didn't alter it."
"Ok, but within a month? How'd you get that part?" She was genuinely curious. Seeing that brilliant mind at work, even for small things, was fascinating.
"New Breitling. Only came out this February." It sounds so simple when he says it.
She didn't realize that her last thought had been voiced out, but apparently it was, since Sherlock was looking curiously at her again. Blushing slightly in embarrassment (the inner Brit came back to reign), Joan changed topics: "So, that break-in? Shouldn't we question employees or something?"
Luckily the case took precedence over analyzing Watson's mercurial attitude, as Sherlock instantly switched into the smart-ass mode. "Got everything I need to know already, thanks." They had passed revolving doors, emerging in the tentative sun of a London's afternoon. After further explanations, they managed to grab a cab (i.e. Sherlock effortlessly summoned it from the depths of traffic), and headed towards the neighborhood known for attracting young executives from the City.
While stuck at a red light, Sherlock suddenly turned his piercing silver eyes to her, question marks practically dancing over his head. "Why did you interrupt him?"
Joan quirked an eyebrow at him, absently wondering did anyone ever defend him? "You introduced me as your friend. I had to live up to the title, and listening to his bile wasn't high on my wish list anyway." Sherlock's face became blank, and the medic in Joan suspected it was a coping mechanism to unexpected positive feedback. Or just plain shock. Intrigued, she decided to add oil to the fire. "And he frankly didn't deserve to hear your deductions." Huh, should praise him more. The reaction is definitely funny. Sherlock's face presented a study in badly concealed blushing surprise and slight confusion.
Clearly unable to formulate a response, he looked away. "I suppose he didn't" he finally replied.
They stayed silent for barely a few seconds before exploding into muffled giggles.
linebreak linebreak linebreak linebreak
A/N: Yeah, I don't like Seb.
I'm also trying to make chapters longer... Might have fractioned it too much for the first part (sorry).