"Are you really wearing nothing but a bed sheet in Buckingham Palace?" said Joanna in horrified fascination.
Sherlock looked absolutely smug about the whole affair. This was sure to annoy his brother something fierce.
Joanna couldn't resist taking a picture to remember the occasion later. And sending an incredulous text to Lestrade over the latest lunacy of Sherlock...if only to spread the misery.
Lestrade was quick to share his incredulous shock at Sherlock's behavior once he realized what he was seeing.
Every once in a while, the man did something that made those that were 'close' to him sigh in exasperation.
Of course seeing Sherlock threaten to leave with nothing but the bed sheet past all the tourists had Joanna do something she did rarely.
She started laughing, because that was something she would have expected of him.
Mycroft noted with a hidden sense of pleasure and triumph when he noticed his brother's instant attention to the woman's laughter at his behavior, and how he paid more attention to her than the case.
Obviously Sherlock held more interest in Joanna Watson than he'd admit to. At least at this point in time. Perhaps in a few months or more dangerous cases he'd be able to admit it to himself that he liked her as a female.
Once Sherlock got dressed and was more or less behaving, Mycroft got to the crux of the matter.
The second Joanna heard the name Irene Adler and the nickname of "The Woman", her face went so flat it could have been carved from stone.
Sherlock noticed his companion's immediate change of behavior, but said nothing in the presence of his brother. Mycroft had no idea this was an uncharacteristic silence and subtle fury from Joanna.
The moment they were out of the cab and out of view from any cameras, Sherlock confronted Joanna.
"What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong? Adler is what's wrong!" said Joanna fuming.
Sherlock looked at her baffled and with no idea what to do to calm her.
"You've never bothered to read the books, but I know what's going to happen. The moment you try to outwit the woman, you're going to be in her web. She'll tug you around with a thin string and you'll be too blind to realize what's happening until she's betrayed you."
Sherlock stood there silently in disbelief.
"Explain."
"In the books, the only woman who could ever get the better of Holmes was a crook by the name of Irene Adler. She would always toy with him, use him and then betray him. And he always, always came back for more. She fascinated him because she could outwit him," said Joanna in disgust.
Holmes said nothing, but the silence was staggering.
"Is there any chance you're wrong?"
Joanna's expression was downright vicious and full of anger.
"I bet you fifty pounds that when we go there that she walks into the room wearing absolutely nothing purely throw you off," said Joanna flatly.
Sherlock blinked repeatedly.
"Fifty pounds, you say?"
"Fifty pounds she comes into the room completely starkers and then shortly after everything goes to hell in a hand basket because of these supposed pictures," said Joanna.
Sherlock thought that over.
"Fine. You have a bet."
"And if I'm right, then you let me handle Irene or anything she gives you," said Joanna.
"If you're wrong?"
"If I'm just being paranoid and it's not just my knowledge of the old stories coming to life, then I'll give you a tip on how to find the Black Iris in order to pick her brain."
"How do you even know the assassin anyway?"
"Long story short, she was heavily involved in the final days of the recent Blood War between Riddle and Dumbledore. The club I go to was a major part in ending it permanently, even if neither side was happy how we did it. She gave those she worked with frequently a way to contact her for help after," said Joanna.
Sherlock accepted the bet. Black Iris fascinated him because of how thorough she was and the lack of any definitive information on her.
Even Mycroft had no idea who she was. Which spoke volumes of how good she was at hiding.
In the house...
Sherlock looked at the completely naked Irene Adler, mentally counted to ten, before silently admitting Joanna had been completely right. He also mentally acknowledged he now owed Joanna fifty pounds because she knew exactly what was about to happen long before the signs were even there.
She had known Adler was in deep with something dangerous, and that she would through him off the moment they met.
Considering the woman dosed him with something unpleasant, Sherlock realized he liked Joanna's methods far more than Irene's.
Joanna pushed his ability to handle, but made a point never to go past what Sherlock could cope with. She pushed his buttons, but not once did she use him like Adler did with the Americans.
Which was why shortly after Irene disappeared, Sherlock broke down and read the 'classic fiction' based off an old Scotland Yard detective and his arch nemesis.
The parallels between him and the fictional detective were almost terrifying.
"What do you know about the Black Iris?" asked Sherlock, trying to put The Woman out of his mind.
Joanna was right.
Sherlock might be arrogant, condescending and uncomfortable around the idea of personal relationships...but he was not an idiot. Joanna clearly had her guard against Irene before she even had meet the woman or see her lack of attire.
Joanna had seen Irene and dismissed her nudity as uncomfortable and looked more bored than anything.
As an open lesbian and a woman who hadn't had a date in three months, Sherlock would have thought Joanna would have had more interest.
Instead she didn't. She was dismissive of Irene's nudity and openly defensive in a subtle unspoken way around what Irene said.
Characteristic of a doctor who knew damn well a patient intended to lie their ass off or keep silent about their actual condition...and they had to read between the lines and look for the subtle signals to find out the truth.
Joanna, unlike the Yard, was very, very good at observing people on a more personal level. Sherlock could read their lives by the signs people missed...she could read what they were like and their personality using the same methods.
It was part of why the two of them clicked so well.
Joanna's POV...
Sitting in a perfectly normal cafe, Joanna drank her Chai tea calmly while waiting for her contact.
Something was going on involving dead bodies, and she wanted to know what. Even a gist of it would be enough.
This particular cafe wasn't a normal one. In fact it was as far from normal as one could get.
This was a magical cafe that offered private tables that had a perfect cone of silence and rendered all digital methods useless via a powerful magnet under the table.
Thanks to the spells, the effect didn't last past the table. The magnet was secured in a special box so one could use it or shield the table from the effects.
It was a bit expensive, but the price of privacy and the assurance that no one could over hear was something that some would consider worth it.
Like those having delicate discussions or sharing secrets best not aired in public.
Joanna didn't look up or to her contact.
"Alright, you have my attention. What's so important that we had to meet here?"
"Dead bodies going missing. A body found inside a trunk that by all rights should have been on a plane to another country, right down to the crackers served in the plane found here. A woman's ashes being replaced. The Woman having documents on her phone that she claims keep her protected, but had her targeted by Americans," Joanna summed up without hesitation.
There was a pause, before the contact cursed.
"Bloody Holmes. From that I can tell the elder didn't clue the younger in to avoid having him accidentally blowing it open."
"I had a feeling he was involved, but it's nice to be confirmed. Americans?"
"Joint operation. Very discreet. Member of MOD compromised, partial e-mail photographed, enough to ruin it."
"Bloody spies. No offense."
"Not a problem. Action?"
"Warn Elder that he had better be upfront next time or I'll start sending stripper grams to his bloody doorstep to piss him off. Gay stripper grams."
Her contact choked back a laugh.
"Want something to annoy the one who refuses to return your cars in usable condition?"
"Yes please."
Joanna snorted, handing her contact a box she had put together to annoy the secret agents that he worked with.
"Lovely to see you as always, Joan," said Q.
"Happy to help, Q. Have fun tormenting the baby spies," said Joanna snickering.
The old books about James Bond weren't entirely full of it. However after the books came out (and the many, many movies) the title of "007" had been firmly and permanently shelved unless they weren't an active agent in the first place. Anyone with that designation was either laughed at or felt they had to live up to the fictional agent.
It was a hassle to reassign the cover identities.
Joanna knew Q partly because he had been the one to contact the American Magical NRA for them to supply the anti-magic bullets...and the guns to shoot them with, among other things.
MI6 allowed it mostly because Voldemort kept blowing their operations and deep cover agents or killing them outright, but they didn't have enough magicals on staff to deal with them.
Or to be more precise, none high enough to get away with going rogue long enough to take the idiots out.
Supplying a private group of people who had enough and helping them avoid being arrested for cleaning up the mess by the pure bloods was a nice compromise...and got the agency on the Queen's good side. The fact that the majority of the guns and ammunition were returned save for those who had permission to carry them already was something in their favor.
Joanna had been one of the few who remained in contact with Q and kept the weapons, with the agency's blessing.
"I still say Connery was better," said Joanna. Q snorted before he left and she finished her tea before doing the same.
And the Holmes boys thought she was just a retired veteran after a particularly unpleasant experience in the service.
It was fun to tweak their noses with tidbits of the actual truth.
Speaking of, she had a text to make.
As expected, Mycroft didn't text her back with the answer. Less than five minutes later, a car pulled up with his assistant inside...along with several others with guns.
Mycroft did not look pleased with her.
"How do you know about 007?" he asked bluntly.
"Q clued me in," she replied. That, and her unofficial designation in MI6 was 007.
Her profile said she was in the army for several years after Barts, but she had been recruited early on in her career and given the designation because she wasn't likely to try and 'live up' to the infamous secret agent.
It was because of MI6 that her magical education had been 'completed' (or as close as one could get) in the first place.
Mycroft apparently thought she was trying to be funny, because she could see his anger and hostility in his face.
"No seriously, he clued me in that it was one of your operations. For a man Sherlock claims is the British government, you certainly don't do thorough background checks. Either that or they were particularly clever hiding what I do off the books," said Joanna with a drawl.
It took him almost a full minute longer than she would have guessed before he caught on. She expected him to figure it out quicker than that.
Then again her Joanna Watson persona was a very thorough cover. Not even Sherlock had seen through it and he lived with her.
"You have contacts in MI6."
Joanna had a smug grin.
"Sure, let's go with that theory. Frankly I'm surprised you didn't find out sooner. Who did you think tracked down one of their operatives in the city in order to use their connections for weapons in order to deal with the nuisance that was Tom Riddle and Dumbledore? Our group borrowed guns and got enough anti-magic ammunition to deal with both parties, and left them to clean up the mess they created. I just...kept in touch," said Joanna cryptically.
Joanna was an off-the-books medical assistance for operatives in the know. If they wanted to have an operative healed on the sly without alerting the enemy they were after, they had Joanna to go in and fix them up in short order.
They paid her on a dummy account that disappeared once she wired it to several other accounts and laundered it on online poker until it slowly appeared in her actual one.
Quite a few times Sherlock had completely glossed over her playing online poker or other games, aside from noting her absurd luck at them.
Mycroft clearly didn't know whether to be annoyed or paranoid.
"Why are you living with my brother if you can easily afford living on your own?"
"Sherlock fascinates me, and I hate living alone. Besides, buying a home is a waste of time," said Joanna flatly.
People would look askance at a woman her age living alone, and she despised living in a big house with no one to talk to. However a flat share on an 'army pension' was perfectly reasonable and her job as a doctor with odd hours was the best cover. That and Sherlock took her on the most fascinating cases all the time. She enjoyed seeing his mind work.
"What are you intentions towards my brother?" asked Mycroft.
"Aside from keeping his frustrating and annoying ass alive during his cases and trying not to kill him for irritating me during that time of the month?" she said deadpan. She sighed. "All you need to know is that if I get my hands on Adler's phone, I'll be scrambling or hiding the information she has so that she can't compromise whatever it is you're trying to pull any further. As much as you annoy me, the last thing I want to see is Adler using your brother in her games."
"You dislike Ms. Adler?"
"I dislike the fact she's obviously manipulating Sherlock and trying to pin all the blame on him for her games. I wouldn't be surprised if she's in league even remotely with Moriarty," said Joanna flatly.
Mycroft took it for what it was. Joanna offering to protect his brother from himself and the manipulations of a woman who knew exactly how to twist men around her little finger.
However odds were he'd really look into Joanna's past a lot harder now that he knew that he had missed something so critical like the fact she was an off-the-books medic for MI6 with a close tie to a group that dealt with the Death Eaters and the few "light" magicals who caused more trouble than they were worth.
People like Albus Dumbledore, found dead with a bullet to the brain and his wand confiscated. There was also signs that someone had pissed on his dead body before washing off the evidence of DNA to the point it would take a miracle to find who did it.