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“So,” she said, lowering her cup to its saucer slowly. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”
The man smiled again. “And you’re Dr. Joan Watson, recently of the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers, currently employed by St. Bartholomew’s mortuary. You are on voluntary leave from the army-not a permanent discharge, I believe. Do you have hopes of returning after your convalescence?”
Joan blinked. “What do you want?” she asked warily, carefully ignoring the final question. Whatever it meant. “And I don’t think I heard a name in all that.”
He laughed. “You’re quite right, how very rude of me. I am Mycroft Holmes. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he replied amiably. “As for what I want…my dear, that is based entirely on what you want ( ... )
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“Yes, he has,” Joan replied. “He’s here all the time. Nearly every day.” A little too much, she thought privately, remembering their conversation the day before. Sherlock had renewed his offer of a flatshare, and Joan had begged for more time again. She still hadn’t made up her mind.
“Really?” Molly sounded surprised. “I haven’t seen him once! Do you think he’s avoiding me?”
“I doubt it,” Joan said, but she wasn’t entirely sure. Now that she thought of it, Sherlock did have an uncanny ability to appear just when Molly was out of the room. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I don’t think he cares one way or another, as long as he gets to see the bodies ( ... )
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“Joan!”
Joan swallowed, fighting the need to vomit. This was awful. All she wanted was an afternoon sitting around gossiping, drinking bad coffee, giggling about men, not thinking about the ticking time bomb in her belly counting down the days until her life would be turned upside-down. But it seemed her traitorous body wouldn’t even let her have that little bit of normalcy.
Unbidden, a lump rose in her throat and Joan was horrified to feel tears burning in her eyes. She never cried in public! Never, not since she’d been old enough to understand that she had to be the strong, sensible one in the family. She heard Molly step away, probably to give her some privacy whilst she bawled. God, she probably thought Joan was an emotional wreck. She squeezed her eyes shut ( ... )
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Anyway, sorry for the long break between updates, but here is the next bit...more casefic (so much for this being a story about Real Issues. Ah well, I tried), and little more Sherlock/Joan banter. ^_^ Also, Molly because she's awesome.
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