Work Text:
“A foot fetishist’s club?” Sherlock gave his partner a look.
“That’s the idea. That’s it, boys, stay. Stay…”
Joan Watson took several steps across the room. Her feet made a soft clucking noise with each step.
“Are you sure it’s not a shoe-fetishist’s assembly for which you’re preparing?”
“Not surprisingly there’s a lot of overlap.”
Romulus and Remus crowed from their seats atop Joan’s gladiator sandals.
“And you plan to borrow the fighting cocks for your undercover work tonight?”
“I promise to return them safely. You can continue your training when I come back.” Joan smiled at her partner and continued striding around the room, the sleek roosters staying firm atop her feet. “Good job, boys, popcorn for both of you.”
#
Joan’s Cock-Teases got her in with no questions asked. The club’s clientele were the usual blend of normal weirdness you got in a place like NYC. Careful questioning picked up more information about her missing-person case. But one patron in red nylon spike-heeled boots kept coming back to her – someone she recognized from Sherlock’s evidence wall. The suspect’s hit-woman.
Joan sauntered to the bar and picked up a bowl of peanuts – then tossed them across the floor. “Chick-chick-chick!” she cried.
In the ensuring chaos caused by two crowing, flapping fighting cocks, the detective was able to escape out the back.