Just one of those Days [Sherlock Holmes and Joan ]

Joan Watson had been settled into 221B for a couple of months. She had successfully survived Christmas with Sherlock, though given his comment directed at Molly Joan hadn't seen the woman in a few weeks.

She sat down in her favorite arm chair and decided to try and finish her chapter of a Thomas Hardy novel. She waited with a pain in her chest for Sherlock to interrupt her peace.

Sherlock arrived home from St Barts, where he had spent the evening using their more advanced facilities to carry out some experiments. Nothing related to a case. They didn't have one. Just something to try and keep himself busy.

Carrying a bag of body parts through to the kitchen and dumping them in the fridge, he turned on the kettle and wandered through to the living room, taking off his coat.

"What are you doing?" He asked his flatmate, although it was quite obvious she was reading. He meant it in a more general way. What are you doing for the rest of the evening, perhaps. Or, what are you doing sat there reading when you should be trying to find me a case.

Joan sighed as Sherlock walked in with a bag, which she could assume meant something for an experiment since they didn't have a case. "I'm reading." She paused, looking up at the man, "Though, I guess, I COULD get on my laptop and find us a case, you know it wasn't like I was doing anything important."

Sherlock draped his coat over the chair at the desk and tossed his scarf down on top, flopping himself into the armchair opposite Joan and squinting at the title of the book she was reading, letting out a bored sigh when he saw what it was.

"I think that would be much more productive...don't you?" He smiled slightly, glad she'd got the hint about looking for cases. He drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair impatiently.

"It's a Saturday, though." Joan argued once she heard Sherlock's sigh, "I know you don't approve of my book choice sometimes but at least they are of an intellectual and moral standpoint rather than those trashy books my sister reads. "She muttered, taking a sip of her tea and looking up at Sherlock. She adjusted her position before fully moving out of the arm chair and walking over to the desk, sitting down and booting up her laptop.

"Are you looking for anything specific?" She asked, turning her head to look at Sherlock. sometimes, he liked one sort of case over the other. He hated domestic disputes, except for Mrs. Hudson's important case, of course. He also hated anything he thought that Scotland Yard could manage to solve on its own. He also hated working with anything that might mean Anderson and Sally were present.

"Something interesting," Sherlock replied with a yawn. Surely that much would be obvious. He stretched up his arms then sat forward resting his elbows on his knees and watching as she approached the laptop and began to log on.

"Something interesting and preferably a murder," he expanded. "But if there's no murder, at least something deeply mysterious and complex. And knowing you, you'll probably want something that offers a large payout." He smirked. Joan was the one who always worried about money, about where the next rent payments were coming from. The detective didn't care for such trivialities.

Joan nodded, sighing to herself that her semi-perfect beginning to the weekend was ruined. "Murder. Complex. Got it." She turned around to give him a pointed look, "I'm sorry, one of the main reasons I moved in with you was to make sure I didn't end up on the street, though you don't worry about the money, I do. Just give me that." She murmured before looking up her email from Lestrade. "Seems there's a murder but it seems pretty simple. BUT, there's been mysterious muggings happening that seem to involve an invisible person, that complex enough for you?"

Sherlock scowled and folded his arms, turning his back on Joan to wait if the news she had for him was good enough. His eyes twitched a little at the mention of murder, then sighed when he heard it was simple, and then -

"Invisible?" He turned round and approached the desk, pulling up a chair to sit nearer. "Do tell me more," he said excitedly.

"mm-hmm, there's no prints, only one witness, a load of victims from all over the place. Trying ot find a common thread now." She told Sherlock.

Sherlock felt his heart rate quickening. "Yes," he replied, before he'd had time to really think about it. "The answer's yes. Tell them we'll take the case. Whoever it is? Who is it?" He frowned and leaned over Joan's shoulder.

"Who's contacted us over it? A private client? One of the victim's friends of relatives?" He was speaking excitedly and quite fast, his mind suddenly switched on.

Joan grinned as she saw Sherlock lit up with glee or at least his own for of glee. "Yes? Good. Okay, then." She peered over the email once more, "Lestrade sent us this though it's from a private client that apparently wants to be anonymous, I smell the government." She looked up at Sherlock, "And I think you know who it is."

Sherlock's excitement over the case quickly faded once Joan had told him further details about where the source of the information first came from.

"Delete it," he scowled, slumping back down in his armchair. "We're not taking the case."

"Delete it? Lestrade wants to help us. Besides......" She furrowed her brow at this. She never really liked Mycroft either, whether or not he was Sherlock's brother.

Sherlock sighed, indecision clouding his features. He hated taking any cases that his brother had sent their way, but at the same time, he didn't want to pass up on something interesting.

"We'd need to interview one of the victims," he said finally. "Find out more. Gather our own evidence and information. Not rely on anything come through from...him..."

"Okay. So, the normal "Don't trust HIM" doctrine." Joan nodded at this assessment and began gathering the information, "Will you actually eat something today?" She asked him concerned for his well being.

"Yes, precisely. Well done," Sherlock muttered distractedly, his mind already on the new case. He jumped up out of the armchair and leant over Joan's shoulder to read through the meagre amount of details they had.

"Eat? Hm. No, I'm fine. Not hungry." He didn't have a vast appetite at the best of times, but it went down rapidly whenever he had a case.

"Well, I need food." Joan commented, smiling a bit as she saw Sherlock reading over her shoulder. "So, we'll go see you know who in a moment to track down victims?"

Sherlock glared at the sceen, internally seething. He hated having to get information from his brother.

"I'll have a coffee," he muttered, returning to his seat and expecting Joan to make him one. She was much better at it than he was.

[Sorry this is so late]

Joan went about making the coffee. She could never make it just for herself, Sherlock would loom over her and just expect it. She didn't mind some days but this was supposed to be her day off and now she had a frustrated Sherlock having to deal with his older brother.

Sherlock sat at the desk, drumming his fingers against it impatiently, thinking about the case. It could prove to be rather interesting.

He got out his phone and text his brother, letting him know they were coming over and asking whether meeting at the Diogones would suit.


((No problem. Happy easter! XD ))