Prompting Part XXIX
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
Sherlock’s head swiveled back in her direction, as though he hadn’t expected her to answer. Joan rather regretted it herself. She felt uncomfortable under his x-ray gaze. Maybe if she just answered his question he’d stop staring? “It was Afghanistan, by the way. How did you know about that?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Yes,” he mused, ignoring her question. “Career military, invalided home recently. No, not invalided home…you were asked to leave.” Joan felt a bubble of anxiety rise in her stomach.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said frowning, trying not to panic.
“Odd choice for an army doctor, working in a morgue,” Sherlock continued, still staring at Joan. “Not your first preference, but you can’t find other work and you need work, fast. Now, why would you need work so desperately if you were invalided home with an Army pension? So, no pension, and no injury. You were asked to leave.”
Joan swallowed. “I decided to leave. It was my own choice,” she said, clenching her fists.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Was it indeed?” he murmured.
Mike have a polite little cough. “Ahem. As I was saying…Molly, I was hoping you could give Dr. Watson a tour of the morgue facilities. Unless you’re busy?” He glanced pointedly in Sherlock’s direction.
Molly coloured. “No, I’m free. Sherlock was just leaving.”
“The initial bruising pattern requires at least another twenty minutes to set in,” Sherlock cut in tactlessly.
Molly sent him a scathing look. “Thanks for that, Sherlock,” she hissed.
“You’re welcome.”
Molly rolled her eyes skyward for a moment before turning to Joan. “Sorry about all this,” she smiled, “I’ve been a bit out of sorts lately. Hormones, you know.”
“Yes, I understand.” All too well. “When are you due?” she asked politely.
“Not for a month, but I decided to go on maternity leave a bit early,” Molly gushed happily. “To get the house ready and everything. And Greg-that’s my husband-said I should take it easy.”
Sherlock gave a derisive snort. “What?” Molly asked crossly.
“Nothing,” Sherlock sneered.
“You know, you could be a little nicer to me,” Molly grumbled. “What would you do without me around to let you into the lab and help you with your experiments?”
“Yes, and what would you do without me around to give you excuses for snack breaks?” Sherlock smirked. “I’d recommend easing up on the doughnuts, by the way. You’ve put on at least thirty pounds so far.”
“Twenty-five,” Molly retorted heatedly.
“Thirty.”
“Twenty five. And it’s baby-weight!”
“Alright,” Mike said in a placatory tone. “Settle down children. It’s too early for dramatics.”
“I need to go anyway,” Sherlock sniffed, grabbing a long black coat from a nearby chair. He pulled it on in one smooth movement, hitching his shoulders once to settle the neckline. It was an improvement, Joan thought. He looked a little less ill fed and pasty, and a little more Byronic and confident. She was pretty sure it had something to do with the collar. “I left my riding crop in the cold storage room. Molly, text me pictures of the bruises that form within the next ”
He slammed the door on his way out.
Joan stared after him for a second, before turning to Mike and Molly. “Did he just say ‘riding crop’?” she asked.
It was a sign of what was to come that both merely shrugged.
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