The action picks up here and copious boring fillers and background are done…mostly. ^-^ Short and sporadic updates while I figure out what the hell I'm doing.
I don't own Sherlock.
Time only tells what it wants to…
"For you, sweetie, we do anything." Harry replied in her business tone, despite the flirting words.
The woman on the other side of the phone laughs heartily, "How does a two person flat, Oxford education and the works sound? Under the name of Elizabeth Jane Grinstein, if you can manage it." The last part is equally jest and query, Harriet is the best for her type of business but there are still things that might be undoable.
Harry sighs and traps her phone between her ear and shoulder to pull out a notepad, "What's your budget?"
"Up to 900 million pounds up front." Harry looked thoughtful. With a price like that it must have some hidden clause and the most common one was time restraint. She scribbled a figure down and all the demands of her customer.
Harry sounded a bit weary as she asked, "Time limit?"
"Nine days." That was sufficient time to do most of it, the name might be stretching it but Harriet never backed down from a challenge.
Harry looked down at her scrawled figures and told her customer, "Consider it done. I'll have my best man on the job. Eye on any real estate?" With the figure already given she could easily grab most real estate in London and the surrounding area.
The woman sighs, sounding a bit reminiscent, "In London preferably. Actually a little flat on Arlington Street caught my attention." Harriet's breath catches; she knows the exact flat that is being talked about without the house number ever being mentioned.
"Nine days and it'll be Elizabeth's. Come to the shop to sign the agreement." She carefully keeps the emotions out of her voice; this is her client, not an old flame.
The grin is verbal, "See you soon, Harriet."
The woman hung up but Harry smiled and said, "I look forward to it, sweetie." She flipped her mobile shut and scribbled something down on her pad of paper. Anything stored on her phone could be retrieved but anything on paper could be completely destroyed. Whistling to herself, Harriet set of for the post office, she had an object of interest for the British Government, and it would not do to keep it on her person. She studiously tells herself that she is not happy because it was Clara on the phone. The same Clara who she kinda fell in love with and then divorced due to 'conflict of interests'.
Actually, she could quite work this to her little brother's advantage. It simply would not do for him to be at a loss simply because she thought with her heart instead of her head.
John, grab shop laptop, see if "that" flat is still available. –HW
Done, and yes. –JW
See if you can buy it.-HW
Done. ?-JW
We're getting a little help from an old, old friend. –HW
Your last 'old friend' is dead. –JW
You think he left without a legacy? –HW
Unless 'legacy' is a new word for 'pet' then yes, he left without legacy. –JW
Never count a family member out until you stand knee-deep in their ashes. –HW
We don't pull full family hits anymore. –JW
Because we didn't have anyone standing against us. Prepare for war, we're up against Britain. –HW
Whose move? –JW
Ours –HW
If anyone had chanced a peek at Harriet Watson and John at that moment they would have noticed twin grins of mischief. War was where Watsons belonged, on a battlefield, testing their limits and their humanity. And now it was time to bear arms once again, there were allies with them and enemies against them.
It was as close to perfection that two broken humans could get. And maybe, if they chanced a win this round, it would be a step closer to that completion they desired.