Fic/Image: Sherlock's Thinking Face
Title: Sherlock's Thinking Face
Fandom: Elementary
Rating: G
Characters: Joan Watson, Sherlock Holmes, OC
Length: 484 words, one image
Alternate Link: AO3
Author's Notes: Written for the watsons_woes JWP 2015 Prompt #28: Bad, Bad, Oh So Bad! Unbeta'd.
Summary: The child advocate had apparently worked with Sherlock before, because she ordered him to stand in the corner and not say a word to that traumatized little girl.
The only witness to Jerome Robinson's abduction was his five year-old daughter, Lanika. Her mother was out of the picture. They'd contacted the grandmother, who was flying in from Chicago tonight, and she had given permission for them to question the young girl.
It was Joan's first time participating in the interview of a child. It had gone well at first. Lanika was a vivacious little girl wearing a yellow sundress, her hair braided into neat cornrows. The child advocate, Ms. Simmons, asked her open-ended questions, encouraging Lanika to draw pictures of what she had seen.
After the second time through her story, Lanika started to get cranky, complaining that she was thirsty. When Marcus brought her a soda, her lower lip trembled. Joan preemptively groped in her purse for a tissue.
Lanika burst into tears. "Daddy gives me apple juice," she sobbed, knocking the soda over onto Ms. Simmons.
Ms. Simmons jumped up a little too late. "I'll be right back," she said, wiping at her pant suit and gesturing for Marcus to join her as she left the room.
Joan held the tissue out to Lanika, who responded by crawling into her lap. Joan wasn't great with kids; she held completely still as Lanika rubbed her face and nose on her blouse.
The little girl calmed down pretty fast. She peered at Sherlock, who had spent the interview leaning silently against the wall. "He looks mad," she said in a stage-whisper.
"Not at you, sweetie," Joan reassured her.
"This is my thinking face," Sherlock said. "I'm thinking about how to find the bad guys who took your father."
Lanika wriggled around for a better look. "Thinking so hard must make you real smart," she said.
"It does," Sherlock said.
"And you're not police?"
"No," Joan said. "We're not."
"Cuz Daddy said I gotta be careful of police."
"We assist the police, but have no authority to make an arrest," Sherlock said with a sharp glance at Joan.
Joan picked up the little girl's hand, entwining her fingers with Lanika's tiny, much darker ones, and held them out to Sherlock in a silent reminder that there were reasons other than criminal intent for a father to teach his children to be wary of police.
"So talking to us can't get anybody in trouble," Joan translated for the little girl. "We just want to help get your Daddy home safe."
Lanika looked up at her solemnly, clearly trying to decide if Joan was trustworthy. She bit her lip and said quietly. "I think the short one knew Daddy. He called him Jerry. Only his friends from a long time ago call Daddy that. And the car wheels were silly."
Sherlock moved to sit down across from them at the little table. "Silly in what way?" he asked intently, nudging the crayons towards her.
A week after Lanika's father was rescued, Marcus passed on a picture Lanika had drawn for them. Joan ignored Sherlock's protests and put it up on the fridge in the Brownstone.
Fandom: Elementary
Rating: G
Characters: Joan Watson, Sherlock Holmes, OC
Length: 484 words, one image
Alternate Link: AO3
Author's Notes: Written for the watsons_woes JWP 2015 Prompt #28: Bad, Bad, Oh So Bad! Unbeta'd.
Summary: The child advocate had apparently worked with Sherlock before, because she ordered him to stand in the corner and not say a word to that traumatized little girl.
The only witness to Jerome Robinson's abduction was his five year-old daughter, Lanika. Her mother was out of the picture. They'd contacted the grandmother, who was flying in from Chicago tonight, and she had given permission for them to question the young girl.
It was Joan's first time participating in the interview of a child. It had gone well at first. Lanika was a vivacious little girl wearing a yellow sundress, her hair braided into neat cornrows. The child advocate, Ms. Simmons, asked her open-ended questions, encouraging Lanika to draw pictures of what she had seen.
After the second time through her story, Lanika started to get cranky, complaining that she was thirsty. When Marcus brought her a soda, her lower lip trembled. Joan preemptively groped in her purse for a tissue.
Lanika burst into tears. "Daddy gives me apple juice," she sobbed, knocking the soda over onto Ms. Simmons.
Ms. Simmons jumped up a little too late. "I'll be right back," she said, wiping at her pant suit and gesturing for Marcus to join her as she left the room.
Joan held the tissue out to Lanika, who responded by crawling into her lap. Joan wasn't great with kids; she held completely still as Lanika rubbed her face and nose on her blouse.
The little girl calmed down pretty fast. She peered at Sherlock, who had spent the interview leaning silently against the wall. "He looks mad," she said in a stage-whisper.
"Not at you, sweetie," Joan reassured her.
"This is my thinking face," Sherlock said. "I'm thinking about how to find the bad guys who took your father."
Lanika wriggled around for a better look. "Thinking so hard must make you real smart," she said.
"It does," Sherlock said.
"And you're not police?"
"No," Joan said. "We're not."
"Cuz Daddy said I gotta be careful of police."
"We assist the police, but have no authority to make an arrest," Sherlock said with a sharp glance at Joan.
Joan picked up the little girl's hand, entwining her fingers with Lanika's tiny, much darker ones, and held them out to Sherlock in a silent reminder that there were reasons other than criminal intent for a father to teach his children to be wary of police.
"So talking to us can't get anybody in trouble," Joan translated for the little girl. "We just want to help get your Daddy home safe."
Lanika looked up at her solemnly, clearly trying to decide if Joan was trustworthy. She bit her lip and said quietly. "I think the short one knew Daddy. He called him Jerry. Only his friends from a long time ago call Daddy that. And the car wheels were silly."
Sherlock moved to sit down across from them at the little table. "Silly in what way?" he asked intently, nudging the crayons towards her.
A week after Lanika's father was rescued, Marcus passed on a picture Lanika had drawn for them. Joan ignored Sherlock's protests and put it up on the fridge in the Brownstone.