Hey I'm back! Sorry guys my life got all crazy, but I'm here to stay

I am going to update this by Friday each week from now on (hopefully)

As always love reviews!

Enjoy :)

~Rumor Mill~

Lee's description painted an interesting picture. A large man in an artfully tailored black suit whose hair was shorn to his scalp, like that of a monk. Joan cannot fathom such an accountance wandering these back alley streets buying poppy seeds.

"An Englishman with a shaved head has to be much easier to spot than an Englishman in a suit." She remarks thoughtfully as they wind their way back towards the coach.

"Quite so, Watson." Her partner responds, not taking his eyes off their bustling surroundings.

Sherlock is a peculiar man, from his quick speech to his wild mannerisms. He seems as if he is only tied to this world by a thread, straining to fly away because he is not truly part of it. Joan can also see that there is more to him than that outward appearance and she wants to understand it.

The cabbie and his horse are in the same crowded street where they left them nearly half an hour ago. She is thankful Sherlock has such good relations with the London Cabbies, because there is no way they would have waited in this throng for anyone else. They would have had to walk to the bridge to hail another.

Stepping around a fish market stall Joan finally can see their coach and she stops in her tracks. There is someone sitting in it waiting for them.

"Oi! What are you doing here?" Sherlock shouts at the girl in their carriage.

The girl is about fifteen with reddish hair and serious eyes, offset with a bright smile at Sherlock's words. Her clothes are faded and patched, hanging loose to make her look even smaller than she really is.

"I take it you two know each other?" Joan says curiously, glancing sideways at his disapproving frown.

He makes a petulant face, brow furrowing deeply as they stepped up beside the coach. "Miss Watson meet Miss Kitty Winters. She is one of my Irregulars."

"Irregulars?"

"His eyes and ears around the city." Kitty says giving Joan a hand up into the carriage to sit beside her. Despite everything they do not appear all that different sitting next to each other.

"And since my own eyes and ears are presently here, why precisely are you?" Sherlock grumbles, clambering in after her.

There is something affectionate to his rudeness, Joan notes, and the way he appraises Kitty with a critical gaze. It is almost fatherly, which she must now factor into her assessment of his character.

The girl crosses her arms. "I heard something I thought you would want to know."

He waits, tapping his fingers as they set off towards the bridge and back to London proper.

"Your Mr. King supposedly had a gambling debt the size of the queen's jewels." Kitty informs them, tugging up her gray shawl against the damp evening chill. "Word is he was looking for a way out of it."

Sherlock grins approvingly; eyes alight with manic investigative energy. "Excellent! Finally a motive we can work with."

"Who was he in debt to?" Joan asks interested, before her partner can.

"The Aldridge Parlor for near 15,000 pounds."

"15,000?" She gasps in disbelief, trying to imagine anyone betting that kind of sum. No wonder he was desperate. And no wonder he was dead either! "Where did he even get that much?"

"Skimming off his business I should assume, but we will have to see his record to be sure. That and determine who else knew about this."

Ms. Hudson appears seemingly out of nowhere the moment they all arrive back at Baker Street. She makes a fuss over Kitty, whisking her off a clean dress, and forcing her to eat as many sandwiches as humanly possible. The girl has quiet obviously been adopted by the household, which makes Joan smile to see.

Kitty is an unusual thing. Quiet, smart, and unerringly loyal to Sherlock. Joan can tell the girl has been trying to suss out her own character, and whether or not she needs to rescue Sherlock from Joan's temptuous clutches. It is rather entertaining to be honest, and she thinks she has passed the test so far. Also Joan likes that Sherlock has so many headstrong women trying to keep him out of trouble - for the most part anyway.

After Ms. Hudson retires, they spread out the case files over the scared wood dining table to rehash the details for the next day of their investigation. Joan is also going through the society columns in the large stack of resent papers Sherlock has yet to throw away. She reasons that a man wealthy enough for a tailored suit with a shaved head must get a byline occasionally. Perhaps she will get lucky.

So far the papers are mainly just exasperating. Who wore what where, and who only served watercress sandwiches at their ball. Really, is this all people care about? She flips the page over to this evening's print and nearly chokes on her tea.

"What is it?" Sherlock glances up with interest. Somehow his cravat has become untied and his hair is sticking up on end.

"Nothing." Joan says hurriedly, trying to hide the paper but he is quick and snatches it from her hands. She watches carefully as he turns a funny shade of plum, eyes scanning the article. Honestly, it makes her feel better even over her own acute embarrassment and indignation.

Famed Detective Sherlock Holmes has been spotted all over London

in the company of Miss Joan Watson, daughter of Chinese Ambassador Mr.

John Watson. What does this unchaperoned accompaniment mean for Miss

Watson's already shaky reputation as a social oddity? Nothing good we

assume, for the young woman has reportedly visited Mr. Holmes'

apartments unaccompanied as well. Will this result in a hasty matrimony or

will the detective be able to investigate a way out of a scandalous situation?

It seems we shall have to wait to find out.

Sherlock looks up from the article, his eyes wide as a school boy caught in a lie. He is clearly waiting for her to yell at him or something of that nature. That is precisely what makes Joan start laughing.

Her fit of girlish giggles is the last thing Sherlock expected, though they may be born more of exasperation than mirth. Still he thought Joan was going to throw something at his face - like one of her walking boots.

He glances back down at the paper again, wishing it will burst into flames or something equally suiting. This is bad and he knows it. Rumor and reputation are major factors in the day to day life of this city as much as he would rather pretend otherwise. Sherlock has been able to avoid the taint of gossip, no matter what he has gotten up to, due mostly to the fate that he is male, rich, and well known as an eccentric.

Joan, on the other hand, as a gentlewoman can be ruined with just a few words in the right places. London society could freeze her out, her own family could disown her - he is not sure if they are the sort for that or not. Sherlock guesses he could marry her if that would fix the situation logically. Baker Street has an extra room and they could work cases around the clock; it would be nice to have her particular insight at all times.

Sherlock stops this rather wild train of thought in its tracks. If Joan knew what he was thinking, she probably would hit him with her shoe. Also it is only one stupid article, no reason to overreact. What has gotten into him lately?

"What does it say?" Kitty tries to grab the paper out of his hands, with a bewildered glance between the two of them.

"Just the media's usual drivel. Nothing of importance." Sherlock huffs, slipping back into his normal brisk demeanor with a jerk of his head.

"Oh, my mother is going to be in hysterics." Joan sighs in good-natured resignation as Kitty finally manages to get the article away from Sherlock.

"'Hasty matrimony'. That's a bit forward even for one of Mrs. Tulle's columns, isn't it?" Kitty says raising her eyebrows. "Can't she get in trouble for implying something like that?"

"No." Joan replies grimly. "But she can make me an eternal spinster with it. Maybe I should send her a thank you card?" She adds wryly.

"I am not sure that would go over well."

Kitty bites her lip in concentration, looking serious. "You're not going to have to duel her father or anything are you?"

"I would marry Watson before it came to that." Sherlock snaps.

He realizes what he just said as both women turn to stare at him.

Because of course that's the most logical solution Sherlock...