Work Text:
“Janine, will you come in please?”
The buttery voice of Charles Augustus Magnussen rang through the office intercom. Janine quickly grabbed her tablet computer and stylus and walked into Magnussen’s office. “Yes, Mr. Magnussen, how can I help you?” she asked in her soft Irish accent as she entered his office and closed the door. After a year on the job, she knew well enough that all meetings with Magnussen were closed-door meetings.
“Would you say you…like your job?” Magnussen asked, his flat stare belying the fact of his keen interest.
“Yea, ‘course I do,” Janine replied tentatively. It was mostly the truth.
Janine had been the first of her large family to leave Ireland. While she knew a migration from the green country hills of Ireland to the cosmopolitan urban environment of London couldn’t be called a large move, to Janine, it felt like halfway around the world. Certainly, she felt like a different person than the one who moved here.
Janine had leaped at the chance to apply for the position as Charles Magnussen’s PA at CAM News. With a useless degree in Journalism and a few years of experience as a temp, she figured she had no chance at the job. She was surprised when she was asked to come interview with Magnussen himself, and she poured her heart into that conversation. She told him of her desire to make it big in London, and she emphasized how much she wanted to be among those who gathered celebrity gossip and rubbed shoulders with the political elite, all to bring in the dishy stories that ran in some of CAM News’s tabloid papers and sensationalized gossip-based programs for the telly.
Shortly after she began work, Magnussen began to send Janine to movie premiers and press conferences. She loved flashing the CAM News ID badge at the front door and seeing people defer to her. She wondered why some seemed to do so with a hint of fear in their eyes, but she soon figured it out when Magnussen had asked her to follow a young celebrity at an event. Janine was instructed to befriend the girl, ply her with drinks from the open bar, and encourage her to talk about her flirtatious relationship with the director of the movie she currently starred in. When Janine reported back to Magnussen the next day, she felt a bit of bile rise in her throat, knowing the story would be the lead in the next day’s tabloid gossip rag under the CAM News umbrella.
“I have an assignment for you, then,” Magnussen purred to Janine. Janine’s stomach flipped over; she knew what this meant.
Ever since that first “assignment” – which she later realized was a test of her resolve and her ability to gather the dirt – Janine had these conversations with Magnussen with increasing frequency. She was sure that he wanted something similar from her once again.
“Yea, and what would that be, now?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s simple,”Magnussen said. “I want to know everything you can find out about Sherlock Holmes.”
“What, that detective that solved the Reichenbach case?” she asked. “I don’t know anything at all about him, least not anything you’d find useful. All I know is that he’s the best man in my friend’s wedding.”
“Exactly. And I want you to use that opportunity to, let’s say, forge a connection with him and see what you can learn.”
“Ach, I don’t know,” Janine sputtered. She had never resisted Magnussen before, but somehow, this seemed to go a bit over the line that separated work from personal. “I don’t know that I want to be spyin’ on the best man. Doesn’t seem very wedding-like.”
“Janine,” Magnussen began, walking around his desk and coming to a stop in front of her. He cupped her cheek with his hand; she could feel the perspiration dampen her skin and could smell the chicken salad from lunch on his breath, he was standing so close. “I would hate for you to lose this job you obviously care so much about, making you return home. And I would especially hate to discuss your….extracurricular activities….with your family. They’d be so disappointed.”
Janine swallowed hard, imagining the look on her mother’s and brothers’ faces if they knew what working for Magnussen entailed. To get close to the celebrities she followed, she had to do what they did. Sometimes that meant a line or two of cocaine in the ladies' room. Sometimes it meant going home with a man she’d just met. Although she had to admit she found aspects of this exciting, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had abandoned everything she had been raised to believe, just so she could rub shoulders with the rich and famous.
“I’ll try,” she whispered.
“Good girl. I’m sure you’ll be very persuasive,” Magnussen smiled.
***
“Ma-ry!” Janine called, waving her arms wildly to attract Mary’s attention across the crowded pub. Her lilting, sing-song voice caused several male heads to turn her way.
Mary shouldered her way through the crowd and sank gratefully into the small booth Janine had been saving. “Oh, Janine, thanks for meeting me like this! I just had to get away from wedding planning for a while. What does it take to find a reception hall that’s still available for May?”
Janine laughed as the pair gave the waiter their order, then turned back to Mary in time to hear her say, “I finally gave up and told Sherlock to pick some place. He seemed to think he knew some venue owners who owed him a favor.” Mary smirked.
“And this’d be the famous Sherlock Holmes, then?” said Janine. “About who you’ve told me absolutely nothing,” Janine said, thinking of her earlier conversation with Magnussen. “Spill it, Mary.”
“Sherlock?” Mary said. “I don’t know that there’s a lot to tell. You really have to experience him first hand.”
“The Sherlock Holmes Experience,” Janine giggled. “Sounds like an amusement park ride. Maybe this wedding of yours will be interesting after all,” she said, smiling at Mary to make sure Mary understood the intended humor. “C’mon, one of the perks of being chief bridesmaid is having first crack at the cute groomsmen, so start telling me about Mr. Holmes.”
“Ohhh,” said Mary, catching Janine’s drift. “I don’t know if you want to set your sights on Sherlock. I don’t really know if he’s the ‘girlfriend’ type.”
“Ah,” said Janine, deflated. “Wouldn’tcha know. All the good ones are playin’ for the other team.” The waiter set their pints down in front of them.
Mary choked on the first sip of her drink. “Sherlock? Oh, Janine, no. No, no, no, that’s not what I meant! And you’d better never let John hear you say that; he’s tired enough of correcting the tabloids. I guess ever since Sherlock started getting noticed by the press, the only thing the journalists --,” here Mary made air quotes to indicate her disdain, “—can think to report on is how two single men can’t possibly be sharing a flat without something going on.” Mary rolled her eyes.
“So what did you mean, then, Mary?”
“I mean, Sherlock will tell you he’s married to his work, and I think he really means it. John’s only ever known Sherlock to be involved with one woman the entire time they’ve shared a flat, and I guess that….didn’t end too well. Otherwise, he seems to kind of float along above all that kind of stuff that we mere mortals spend our time with,” Mary said. “He’s just….Sherlock.”
“Well, I don’t know what kind of man that makes him,” Janine says, “but I’ll bet I can get that head out of the clouds, at least during the wedding. Sounds like a good challenge.” Magnussen would have his scoop on Sherlock Holmes, but it just might take some time.
***
“Janine! Janine!” She looked around to hear her voice stage-whispered across the entryway of the reception hall and spun around to see Sherlock Holmes, his head poking out of an empty side room. He tilted his head, indicating that she should come over.
Honestly, the entire wedding had left her more confused than ever about this enigma that was Sherlock Holmes. Ever since Magnussen had tasked her with finding out more about him, Janine had been reading the tabloid coverage and thinking about how to approach him, but all of her efforts so far today had fallen flat.
Before the ceremony, she’d had no time to talk to him because she had been with Mary, but afterward, she made a bee-line to his side. Her jokes about the tradition of the best man and the chief bridesmaid sleeping together fell flat, and she couldn’t quite decide if she was amused, embarrassed, or offended. She was definitely offended at his comment during his speech about brides picking less attractive bridesmaids, but she was soon swept along on the same tide of emotion that everyone else at dinner seemed to be, as the speech developed into a touching tribute to his best friend, John. And then, he seemed to lose total control of himself, free-associating about past cases and ultimately running from the room with John and Mary in tow. She wouldn’t soon forget a performance like that.
Sherlock Holmes was certainly not what she expected. From Mary’s description and the articles in the newspaper, she’d expected a geeky intellectual, an absentminded professor type. There was certainly a bit of that, but it seemed to be wrapped in a layer of boyish enthusiasm and absolute anxiety that somehow, inexplicably, was rather magnetic. She wished she had the luxury of getting to know this odd man without having to gather information on him for work
“What on earth is it now?” Janine said as she walked over to where Sherlock’s head was poked out of the doorway. He grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her into the room. Through the closed door, the sounds of the band playing classical music during the cocktail hour could just be heard.
“This is very important,” Sherlock said. “Can you dance?”
“What?” Janine faltered. Of all the questions she had anticipated, this was not even on the list.
“One of our duties. The wedding party will be expected to take part in one of the first dances of the evening. As honor attendants, we will partner and lead that dance. So I repeat, can you dance?”
“Um, it’s been a while,” Janine said. “Can’t we just get away with ‘hang and sway’ dancing like we did in school?”
“Certainly not,” Sherlock said, drawing himself up to his full height and dignity. “We will be dancing a proper waltz; nothing else will do for such an occasion.”
“OK, then,” Janine said. “Then I guess I’m counting on you to lead.”
Sherlock presented his left hand in invitation for her to take up dance hold, then wrapped her in his right arm when she approached. Janine laid her left hand on his bicep, noting that he was more muscular than she had first suspected. “Frame, please,” Sherlock said quietly, preparing to step.
“Now, we can get away with doing mostly a basic waltz box since you’re new to this,” he said. Sherlock took a step forward on his left, while Janine stepped forward on her right, causing the two to bounce impressively off each other.
“Oops,” she laughed. A flicker of annoyance crossed Sherlock’s face, replaced nearly instantly by a look of amusement. “I thought you said you planned to follow,” he chided, still holding her in a relaxed but proper dance frame.
“Well, I’ve never been much for taking orders,” she said, smiling up at him.
Sherlock coached her through several songs, the pair of them dancing to the music filtering through from the next room. She had expected many things from the detective, but she hadn’t expected this.
“Well, you’re a good teacher,” she eventually said when Sherlock felt she was ready and they had both given up trying to do a slow waltz box to the Viennese-tempo “Blue Danube” waltz. “And you’re a brilliant dancer.”
“I’ll let you in on something, Janine,” he said, leaning in to her, a sparkle in his eye and a hint of pink in his cheeks from their practice. “I love dancing. I’ve always loved it,” he confessed. There was something so genuine about his statement, she knew that he was telling her a truth that few had ever heard. He broke away from her and proceeded to do a respectable pirouette.
Then, she saw a flash of panic pass through his eyes, like he’d accidentally let her in on something about himself that he expected to be derided and criticized for. She could see him retreating once again behind the persona of the consulting detective, just as surely as if he had pulled out that ridiculous looking deerstalker and put it on like he sometimes did for the camera. “Never really comes up in crime work but, um, you know, I live in hope of the right case.”
Janine wanted to put her hand on his shoulder, to tell him that he didn’t have to have a case in order to dance, not with her. She didn’t know quite where these feelings came from; she needed to pull herself together too. Whatever was the true personality of Sherlock Holmes, it was enough to have risen to Magnussen’s attention, and it was enough for Magnussen to send her on a fact finding mission that was making her increasingly uncomfortable. What was it about this man that was so intriguing, so potentially damning, that Magnussen had to find out?
Sighing, Janine said quietly, “I wish you weren’t….whatever it is you are.”
Again, the briefest flash of vulnerability before the wall went up.
“I know,” he replied.