"You've certainly set my brother in a huff," said Sherlock mere hours after she was hijacked by him.
"He didn't like the fact I was clued in to his little operation which we've been bumping into. You know the cases you declared boring and set people away involving the dead?"
Sherlock blinked, before a pained expression came onto his face.
"The mystery passenger who wound up in the trunk?" he asked.
"Apparently Mycroft is up to something with the Americans and The Woman caught wind of it. Odds are she's trying to use you to find out what," clarified Joanna.
And with that, all interest in the matter dropped for Sherlock. If Mycroft was involved, then it wasn't an interesting mystery at all. Then Sherlock turned to look at his roommate.
"How did you find out?"
"Long story short I asked a contact in MI6 if they knew of any operation fitting the gist of what we had discovered and he told me there was one," said Joanna. She grinned. "Mycroft was most put off with me because he thought he had the measure of my past only to find out I was much more interesting than he assumed."
Sherlock smirked at her.
Anything that annoyed his brother was good in his book. Especially if it was just someone finding out one of his dirty little secrets when he was trying so valiantly to hide it.
To be fair, if he hadn't dragged them in to deal with The Woman, they never would have bothered asking the right questions or people.
So...it was all his fault.
Sherlock observed Joanna's body language when they found Irene Adler in his bed several months later.
She wasn't angry. Oh no, her expression was beyond angry.
She was furious. Possibly murderous.
Sherlock briefly wondered if he should offer to help hide the body, save for the fact that Irene had made a point to fake her death and make sure Sherlock knew of it. He had been devastated at losing a potentially interesting opponent...only for her to appear perfectly hale and hearty.
On second thought, she deserved everything Joanna planned to do to her for the way she played him.
He didn't do normal emotions. He found them boring. And Joanna, for her strange and bizarre quirks, was highly protective of those she cared for, even to suicidal levels.
This fact was painfully obvious when Sherlock saw the 'code' Irene wanted him to decrypt for her.
One look at it and he knew what it was.
Joanna made him watch different series that she had hoped wouldn't bore him to tears. After Christmas they started watching a series called "Numb3rs".
This particular bit of code happened to be from one of the episodes in the first season, where an irate train worker tried to make a point using past crashes.
Sherlock felt amused, despite the way Joanna selected the shows they watched. She tried to keep it relatively intelligent, but that it included pop culture references that she could trick him into quoting later to Lestrade to see his face.
"It's a driver's license. American, to be exact," said Sherlock three seconds later. He could feel Joanna's smirk without having to see it. She knew he recognized the numbers and letters.
Sherlock also saw Irene texting behind her back, and knew if Joanna hadn't done something he would have been played. Like an idiot. And that irritated him.
Mycroft felt a brief moment of panic when he was informed that someone involved with Bond plane had been identified...right up until Joanna cheekily texted him.
Joanna- You're welcome.
Then Mycroft got the rest of the news. The 'compromised' person was American, or at least according to Sherlock it was.
He distinctly remembered Joanna saying she would hide or corrupt the data so that anyone who saw it would be lead on the wrong path. So he sent a text to her half an hour later.
Mycroft- Your work I presume?
Joanna- Watching Numb3rs with Sherlock. Used the driver's license number from first season with the trains to throw off Adler. By the time they figure out the trick, whatever it is you're up to will be over.
Mycroft- To what do I owe you for the duplicity?
Joanna- Let's just say you owe me one.
Mycroft- Why did you nearly kill the Americans that broke into the flat? From your...files... I would have assumed such a thing was more of a nuisance.
Joanna- They hurt Mrs. Hudson. If they had just scared her and locked her in her flat with the phone cut off and a signal jammer, I would have been irritated, but they actually beat her. And that is unforgivable.
With that message, Joanna went silent.
Mycroft was torn. On one hand, Joanna was a boon to the sort of work he did to keep the Empire safe and she was clearly interested in his brother as a potential romantic partner...if Sherlock ever learned to behave normally.
Even if she was an off-the-record holder of the infamous 007 designation in MI6. When he had asked around his contacts (tea with M) he had been given the actual file of Joanna H. Watson. Or at least the one they kept.
She had far too many secrets for him to like. He had dismissed her presence after discovering her participation in the group of first generation magicals who put a permanent end to the idiots troubling the country and the few light side idiots who were all too willing to allow it to get to that point by turning a blind eye. Just when he thought he had the measure of her, she does something like this that reveals he barely knows her at all.
And he didn't like it. Especially when the person was so closely involved with his brother.
The thing that bothered him most was that all of her records started at age fifteen, before September first. He knew she had previously endured some Hogwarts training, but shortly before what would have been her fifth year she had changed her name. By all accounts she was a muggleborn who had gotten tired of the bigotry and opted to work for Queen and Country on the sly.
The more pressing matter at hand, though, was the fact he had to pretend that Irene had the country in the palm of her hand with the false information. At least until the plane served it's purpose.
It was days like these he added an extra bit of liquor to his evening meal.
Irene Adler didn't think of John Watson as a threat. Not at first. So when Sherlock left the room leaving her with the unassuming Doctor, she thought nothing of it.
That was before the good doctor's eyes changed to green and the very air around her changed to something quite a bit more dangerous.
"So. You thought that you could play Sherlock for a fool and I would let you hurt him. Just. Like. That. You enjoy playing men so much that you've forgotten something important."
"And what's that?" asked Irene, her mouth almost dry.
"You've forgotten that you're not the only one who can play men," said Joanna, smiling with all her teeth showing. "Now I might be a lesbian, but you're so far beneath my league that it's sad. Especially with those gray hairs of yours."
It took a few moments for that to process...but when it did, her face almost went back to normal.
Except there were Joanna's eyes. Those vibrant, almost fury-laced green eyes that seemed to peer right into her soul and say that she was treading on ice so thin that she was almost guaranteed to drop at any second.
Dr. Watson didn't like her, didn't trust her one bit, and was clearly acting like a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Sherlock knew something was different about his flatmate, but had only scratched the surface.
This was an alpha predator and Irene had just stepped into her hunting ground...and it was in the mood to kill.
"And what are you going to do, Dr. Watson?" she asked, trying to bluff her way past this predator.
"Me? Who said I was going to do anything? I'm sure there are a number of people who know of me who would be happy to deal with you in a more...permanent...fashion. People even your friend Moriarty would employ after a fashion to deal with nuisances who trespassed on his territory."
"What gave me away?" asked Irene. She had to know where she slipped up.
If there ever was a next time, that is.
"I knew something like this would happen the moment I heard your name and the nickname you gave yourself. The Woman."
"My name?"
"I happen to be a fan of the classics. And there is one woman who always stands out as the equal of Sherlock Holmes. A con artist by the name Irene Adler, or as the detective in Doyle's stories called her, 'The Woman'. The one female that ever interested him as an equal," clarified Joanna.
"A coincidence."
"There are no coincidences, only fate," quoted Joanna. "Besides, if there is a consulting criminal by the name of Moriarty out there, waiting to pit his worst against a consulting detective named Sherlock Holmes, then it stands to reason that there would just happen to be a conniving woman named Irene Adler waiting to twist the detective around her little finger."
Irene couldn't believe she had been found out by something as banal as her name. She didn't really pay attention to the classics, and she was shocked Dr. Watson had deduced she would be playing Sherlock purely on the most benign of coincidences.
Never in her life would she have believed that an entire scam would be undone because of a retired army doctor who liked to read and happened to catch a strange connection to an old detective's book.
Irene left, with her phone, or at least a perfect copy of it.
It wouldn't be until later she found out Dr. Watson had brought the real one to Mycroft Holmes personally...unlocked.
It hadn't taken but two seconds to realize the password needed to unlock it and not let it blow up.
Like Dr. Watson said... there is no such thing as coincidence, only fate.
"...Did you really just quote that odd cartoon series you forced me to watch two weeks ago?" asked Sherlock.
"Shut up Sherlock, or I'll hide your skull," said Joanna.
Sherlock sulked. The only reason he hadn't automatically deleted that quote from his memory was because it was interesting. Though he still didn't see the appeal of XXXHolic or any of the other animated series Joanna watched out of boredom.
At least she wasn't cruel enough to force him into watching Sailor Moon or something equally stupid.
Joanna was in a discrete outdoor cafe again. She made no reaction to the man who walked past her table, or the envelope he left on his own. She made the pretense of returning it to him as she had already finished lunch.
Once she was out of the camera range, she passed by an outdoor post. She put a stamp on it and put it into the post box, before walking away.
She didn't take out what was in the envelope until she was at work in her office.
Because of her skill, she was awarded one of the few private offices in the clinic.
"Bloody security checks," she muttered under her breath. She removed the badge and replaced the one in her wallet before destroying the old one.
She had to replace the thing every three months to re-confirm her security clearance, discreetly of course. Well that and to confirm she still worked for the good of the Empire.
She was lucky...the active agents had to re-confirm their badges twice a month, or more depending on the assignment.
She wondered how Mycroft would react if he knew her security clearance was as high as his own.
Back in the flat...
Joanna was watching a random series between cases, when she saw something that had her sit up with unholy glee at the thought of a similar prank she could inflict on Mycroft.
Sherlock eyed her warily.
"What are you planning?"
She showed him the episode she was watching.
"Dull."
"Not that. Look at the duck. Imagine a stuffed bee or something similar following Mycroft around in private and calling him Daddy or acting like some chipper five-year-old determined to spend time with him. One that could record his disgusted expressions for us to enjoy later."
Sherlock thought that over and smirked.
"We could add it to the gift we gave him during Christmas."
Joanna had found the most garish and downright tacky Christmas jumper to wrap their...gift...in. Thanks to a minor spell, they were able to get a good picture of Mycroft's face when he realized what was eating the paperwork on his desk...and the jumper it was wrapped in.
Sherlock had been in such a good mood he barely insulted Lestrade's ability to solve crimes and was actually nice to Molly.
Of course it had taken hours for Mycroft to finally get in touch with Joanna to find out how to keep the blasted thing from eating his paperwork. She had been far too amused and sounded entirely too chipper for his taste when she told him how to calm the Monster Book of Monsters down long enough to shove it into a tightly packed bookshelf.
She still cracked up at the pained expression he had after she disappparated with a cackle when she informed him he simply needed to stroke the spine to calm it down.