Leighton and Joanna entered the courthouse, a little disheveled from the walk, but with disguises intact. Leighton checked her pocket watch quickly and sighed in relief. Her trial didn't begin for another thirty minutes and if she headed for the courtroom now, she could-
"Ah, Leigh!"
The blonde cursed under her breath, turning toward the voice. "Good morning, Mr. Bartlett." Her voice dropped an octave without her even having to think about it as she offered the owner of the voice a short bow. The older man was an elder prosecutor, capable of holding very intelligent conversations, but at the moment, Leighton wasn't exactly in the mood. She was running late, after all.
"Leigh, have you heard the news? Barok van Zieks is returning to the Old Bailey at last!" Leighton couldn't suppress a flutter of excitement. Before her father had deemed her too fragile for such things, he'd told her stories of the 'Death God of the Old Bailey.' She'd idolized him, but she'd never dreamed that she'd get the chance to meet him after his departure five years ago. "You'll have to come with us to the club sometime, Leigh. I'm sure Barok would like very much to meet such a young accomplished prosecutor as yourself."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know if that will be possible. Part of the reason why I'm so accomplished is that I don't participate in such outings." Leighton got invited to the club quite a bit, but clearly, it was an area of the prosecutor's world that she couldn't access without causing quite a bit of trouble.
Bartlett laughed. "Ah, of course, of course. You're so virtuous, Leigh. It's quite odd, but not unwelcome, my boy." After a year, comments like this no longer phased Leighton. Joanna coughed slightly from just behind her.
"Well, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Bartlett-" Leighton began as she tried to make her escape, but Bartlett's bony hand caught her elbow.
"Oh, just a moment, Leigh, I see someone that you just have to meet!" Leighton cast Joanna a desperate look as with his other hand, Bartlett pulled a blonde man in a trenchcoat and, oddly enough, a pair of goggles out of the throng of people in the courtroom lobby. "Holmes, this is Leigh Greenwald. He's been at Old Bailey for about a year now." Bartlett paused, smiling. "And I'm sure the great detective Sherlock Holmes should need no introduction, eh Leigh?"
"Yes, sir," Leighton managed to reply. This was the Sherlock Holmes now studying her with inquisitive brown eyes before extending a hand.
"Pleasure is mine, I'm sure, Mr. Greenwald." Leighton took the outstretched hand, flinching involuntarily in surprise as Holmes brought it closer to examine it. "Very delicate hand you have, Mr. Greenwald. Nails freshly manicured, too."
Leighton removed her hand, her blue eyes meeting his brown ones, a challenging glow in their sapphire depths. "Rest assured, Mr. Holmes, these delicate hands can command a courtroom as well as any others. All the better to slam a desk with, eh Bartlett?" Her voice was still light and cheerful, but there was a small knot in her stomach.
"Don't underestimate his slight frame, Mr. Holmes. You don't want to be on the opposite side of a courtroom from Mr. Greenwald," Bartlett replied, smiling.
"Let us hope I never have to test that theory," Holmes said quickly. "I meant no offense, Mr. Greenwald."
Leighton smiled thinly. "None taken, Mr. Holmes. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a trial in just a few minutes."
"Ah, of course, do go on, my boy. Sorry to have kept you," Bartlett said, shooing Leighton down the hall toward the courtrooms. After a brief bow to them both, Leighton quickly retreated down the corridor, Joanna just behind. When she arrived outside of the courtroom, she paused, leaning against the wall.
"Are you alright, sir?" Joanna asked. Leighton was quiet for a minute, looking at the ground as she did when trying to regain composure.
"I feel like he saw through me…" Joanna stayed quiet and after a few moments, Leighton lifted her head again, laughing. "There's no way he'll figure me out, even if he is Sherlock Holmes. I doubt I'll ever see him again, and even if I do, I never back down from a challenge."
Joanna couldn't hide a small grin – her mistress was never in low spirits for long. "With all due respect, sir, you should probably go inside."
"Ah, of course. Thank you, Jo." Leighton smoothed her suit, her blue eyes flashing. "I fooled Sherlock Holmes. I think I'll be just fine." Whether she was saying it for Joanna's benefit or her own, she wasn't sure, but she kept her voice cool and confident.
Joanna rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what her mistress was doing. She sighed as she followed Leighton into the courtroom. Someone grabbed the door behind her. "Excuse me," she apologized, turning around, but she froze when a pair of intense brown eyes met hers.
"No, my fault. I was rushing, didn't mean to startle you." Holmes's gaze drifted past her to where Leighton was shuffling through documents at the prosecutor's bench. "There's something interesting about that attorney."