Chapter Text
Sherlock wasn’t speaking again. For a man who claimed not to believe in anything as mundane as love he certainly had a type. Not that Joan could mention this or she’d get another lecture about how Abigail was a test subject. NOT a romantic entanglement, which would be more believable if he hadn’t been sulking since her recent arrest. Sighing she went and called into the living room.
‘Want some coffee? I’m putting on a pot.’
‘No, thank you, Watson.’ That was it. No longwinded explanation into why coffee was only to be drunk at certain times of the day or that caffeine had to be taken with precise measurements of the correct food to give the optimum amount of energy. Returning to the living room where Sherlock was watching his various screens, with her fresh mug. She paused in the doorway to take a sip watching him over the top of it.
‘Did you want to talk about it? Abigail, I mean.’
‘That won’t be necessary, Watson. There is nothing to discuss. She killed her father and is now protecting someone else who committed the same crime that she did. She believes that by confessing to the murder of her employer she is paying penance both for the murder of her own father, and for not protecting the boy from his. Whilst I know that the wrong person is in prison, I understand her motives and accept them. Now there are other things to discuss. Captain Gregson called. It would seem that there are whispers of Moriarty’s presence in New York again. I do not believe we are in any immediate danger, however it does give some insight into her plans since breaking out of prison.’
‘Hold on, Moriarty’s back in New York? And you didn’t think to tell me before now?’
‘Well I have told you now have I not? And had I jumped in earlier to bestow this information on you, you might’ve been alarmed.’
‘Of course I would be- am alarmed. Sherlock. If Irene is back then we need to do something.’
‘Precisely my thinking, now, my dear Watson we are going to go about our day and see if any opportunity presents itself to learn more of Moriarty’s plan since breaking out of prison.’
‘that’s it?’ she stares incredulously at him.
‘yes, there is not much else to be done I fear, at least not for the moment.’
‘Fine.’ She sighed out. ‘Fine we’ll just sit tight.’
Joan decides to admit defeat. At least for a while. Arguing tends to get you nowhere with Sherlock anyway.
‘I need to go the bank, I’ll be back in a while alright?’ He waved her away, attention already back on the screens in front of him.
Stepping out of the bank, closing up her purse and stuffing it into her handbag Joan hears a cough right in front of her. Startled she looks up and into the eyes of a face she hadn’t expected to see quite so soon.
‘Hello Watson, so good to see you again,’ Irene-no Moriarty- says with that ever present smug smile.
‘What are you doing here?’ Joan asks plainly.
‘Why visiting you of course. You don’t really believe our meeting to be a coincidence, do you? Come now Watson. I thought you smarter than that.’ And there it was the hint of steel behind her words; the threat amongst the flowers.
‘What do you want?’ Joan asked bluntly. Too tired and annoyed to be afraid.
‘The same as ever, just the pleasure of your company.’ She answers smiling impishly.