soledad_writes

SHERLOCK & THE ILLUSTRIOUS CLIENT
by Soledad

Author’s note: Beta read by

lindahoyland, thanks!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER 13 – A CHANGE OF PLANS

September 15th 2014

“Absolutely not!” she declared when they’d explained the plans to her.

Sherlock gave her an annoyed look. “I beg your pardon?”

“This is a stupid plan, full of holes large enough to drive a truck through them,” she said angrily, which annoyed Sherlock even more. He wasn’t one to take criticism well.

“Would you like to enlighten us what’s wrong with our plan?” he asked, visibly irritated.

“Your plan,” John corrected. “You sprang it on me an hour ago, without warning and fully formed. I deny any responsibility.”

“Whatever,” Sherlock waved dismissively; then he glared at Mary. “Well? We’re waiting.”

“So happy to obey,” Mary replied sarcastically; then she began to count down the points on her fingers. “Firstly: John’s the least suitable person for this scam. Not only is he a lousy liar, he’s almost as well-known as you are. His photo is on the blog, for God’s sake! If the Baron’s checked out your background through his fiancée, don’t you think he’d have found John as well?”

“She does have a point,” John said to Sherlock, who just sulked, without giving an answer.

“Secondly,” Mary reached her index finger, “You’ve failed to create any background for his mysterious Dr Barton of yours. Collectors know each other, if only from hearsay. It would take the Baron about ten seconds of internet research to realise that Dr Barton is a fake – and that you’re merely trying to create a distraction.”

“Mycroft can take care of that,” Sherlock muttered in evident dismay.

Mary shook her head.

“Not even he can create a collector out of thin air; and one in the possession of such a priceless item. Which brings me to the third loophole in your plan. If a piece like this had been in circulation, the Baron would have heard about it already. It would have been listed in the catalogues of the great auction houses; at the very least it would have a history of having been in private hands for quite some time – a century or two, most likely.”

“Again, she does have a point,” John commented softly, ignoring Sherlock’s mutinous expression.

“So what if she does?” Sherlock snapped. “Are we supposed to let the Baron get away with several murders, not to mention Violet’s entire wealth?”

“No,” Mary said. “But you’ll need a better bait. One that the Baron would be more likely to take.”

“Oh,” Sherlock returned with biting sarcasm. “And you just happen to know the right person for the job, wouldn’t you?”

Mary nodded. “Of course. I’ll go.”

“Absolutely not!” John protested vehemently, unconsciously echoing her previous statement.

Sherlock, on the other hand, only gave her a condescending look.

“And how, pray tell, would you be better suited for the job than John?” he asked.

“Well,” Mary started to count down on her fingers again. “I’m a much better actress, for starters. Then, I do have a suitable background; anyone can find out in no time that my father used to serve in Hong-Kong and on Taiwan for quite a few years. I could have inherited this little darling from him, together with a few other antique pieces that I’ve already sold through auction, to be able to buy the practice, as you know.”

“That would explain why the saucer hasn’t turned out on auctions before,” John pointed out.

Sherlock scowled. “Oh, thank you so much for pointing out the glaringly obvious, John!” he then turned to Mary. “You forget one thing: the practice will lead directly to John; and through him to me again.”

“It would, if it were running under John’s name,“ Mary agreed. “Which it isn’t; you’d know that, had you paid the slightest attention to our private life, save for disturbing it whenever you need John’s help.”

Few things ever surprised Sherlock, so he couldn’t really be blamed for staring at the Watsons in open-mouthed shock.

“You have the practice running under Mary’s name?” he asked when he finally regained the ability of coherent speech. It took him embarrassingly long. “Why would you do that?”

“Because we wanted a solid, down-to-Earth general practice, with real patients who actually need medical treatment, instead of being overrun by your fans – or enemies – who’d try to get to you through me,” John replied simply. “Besides, we’ve bought if from Mary’s money; well it’s still mostly owned by the bank, but what actual money was put into it had belonged to Mary. It’s only fair that she’d be recorded as the main owner. I’ve got ownership, too, but only through our marriage.”

“Which, again, would explain why I’d be willing to sell the saucer,” Mary continued. “It’s an understandable wish to pay off one’s mortgage sooner rather than later.”

“But how would you explain to have heard about the Baron and his interest in Chinese pottery?” John asked.

“That’s easy: through the National Antiques Museum,” Mary replied promptly. “They may be pissed at him, but they know him and that he’s an expert. I’ll contact Ms Acquah, the director of the Museum, and have the saucer valued and it will be genuinely certified. Then I’ll send your letter to the Baron; which I’ll hand-copy first, of course. Miss Merville might recognise Sherlock’s handwriting on the envelope – which would be another pitfall in your plan, of course.”

Sherlock gave her a suspicious look. “And you’ve just come up with this contingency plan of yours on a whim?”

“Of course not,” Mary smiled. “I had a week to try to figure out why you’d want John to learn about Chinese pottery. I couldn’t guess the exact details, of course, but I was sure you’d want to send him to the Baron with that shaky knowledge for some reason – and that could have got him hurt or killed. They weren’t exactly gentle with you, either.”

“And you think I’d let you get yourself hurt or killed?” John asked incredulously. “I’ve posted wedding photos to my blog, you know. You’re just as easily recognisable as I am.”

“Not by half,” Mary smiled at him. “And I won’t go to him as the blonde bride, all in white. Women can change their appearance more quickly and thoroughly, you know. Temporary hair colouring can make me look years older – there’s a reason I’m a blonde, you see – and then there are such things as changing the colour and the shape of the eyebrows, fake eyelids, coloured contacts, a different style of clothing… not even you’ll recognise me once I’m done.”

“Perhaps,” John allowed reluctantly. “But what name would you be using?”

Mary gave him a surprised look. “Well, my own, of course. Rest assured that the Baron will check on me as soon as he gets my note. The only way to prevent being revealed as a fake is to be the genuine item.”

John shook his head. “This is madness.”

“No,” Mary said, suddenly very serious. “Sherlock’s half-baked plan was madness. I understand that your hand was being forced and you had to improvise,” he added, turning to Sherlock, “but your plan wouldn’t have worked. Mine, at least, has got a chance of working.”

The two men were silent for a while – for entirely different reasons. It was Sherlock who finally broke the silence.

“I hate to admit it,” he said reluctantly, “but she’s right.”

“I know she’s right,” John replied darkly. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

“No,” Mary agreed, smiling, and kissed him. “You should trust me, though, and that I know what I’m doing. I’m not a child, John; nor am I some damsel in distress, in constant need of rescuing.”

“I know you’re not,” John sighed. “But you still could get hurt. I hate the thought of you getting hurt.”

“I won’t,” Mary promised. “You see, I’m a woman…”

“The fact hasn’t escaped me,” John commented dryly.

“Which is why the Baron is more likely to underestimate me,” Mary continued, as if he hadn’t interrupted her. “He won’t see me as a threat; he’ll just see a lonely woman (or so he’ll think) with something he wants. He’ll try to cheat me, in order to get the saucer well below its actual price. It won’t matter what I babble about Chinese pottery; or if I can talk about it with any degree of understanding. In fact, the more clueless I appear, the more he’ll be hooked. That should give you the chance to find that love diary of his. Or lust diary. Whatever.”

The men were quiet for a while again. This time it was John who broke the silence.

“It could work,” he allowed. “But it’s still risky. I still don’t like it.”

Mary gave him a tolerant smile.

“Do you think I like it when you dash after Sherlock all over London, chasing mad serial killers or whatnot? I’m scared to death, every single time, but I let you, because I know that you prefer this kind of life. Being a civilian doesn’t suit you, so I let you have your regular doses of excitement. This time, though, I’m better suited to get the job done, so you’ll have to bite the bullet and let me do it. It’s that simple.”

Which was very true, but it still didn’t mean that John would have to like it. He didn’t. He empathically didn’t.

“Besides,” Mary added with a wicked grin,” why should the two of you have all the fun while I’m sitting in the practice, treating hangnails, snotty noses and bruised knees?”

Sherlock grinned back at her. Despite his previous predictions, he was coming to like Mary more and more. He definitely could see why John had fallen for her.

“Make sure you send Mycroft the bills for your complete make-over,” he said. “If he really wants this case solved so badly, he should cover the expenses, too. Buy some really expensive perfume, too, when you’re already at it.”

“And never use it again?” Mary shook her head, although she was laughing. “No, thanks. I have a strong aversion against wasting things. Let me do this my way; I promise it will work.”

“You can at least ask Anthea to help you,” Sherlock suggested. “She’s very efficient.”

“I’m sure she is,” Mary replied. “But you really shouldn’t volunteer people to do things for you without asking them first. It’s not polite.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Who cares about polite?”

“Not you, obviously,” Mary said. “But I do. And I’m sure that between the two of us Molly and I will manage.”

“I don’t want to pull Molly into this,” Sherlock said morosely. “She’s done enough for me. More than I could ever repay.”

“She won’t be doing this for you; she’ll be doing it for me,” Mary replied. “Women like make-over parties. It will be fun.”

“It will be dangerous,” John corrected, still unhappy with the idea.

Mary beamed at him. “Why, yes. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

John gave Sherlock a pleading look, but all he earned was a helpless shrug.

“It seems we’ve created a monster, John.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Mycroft Holmes leaned back in the comfortable armchair in his office at Whitehall and stapled his hands under his chin. His PA, generally known as Anthea by outsiders (at least for the time being), turned away the screen where the CCTV feed from Baker Street was running.

“Are we supposed to interfere, sir?” she asked. “Ms Morstan’s plan could work, but there are considerable risks involved.”

“True,” Mycroft admitted. “But they’re mature adults; we can’t always interfere with their actions. Besides, we need to have the problem solved; and right now, Sherlock is the only one who can solve it before Gruner leaves England.”

“Is there no way to stop him?” Anthea asked.

“No legal way,” Mycroft clarified. “And if we try to stop him using… er… other methods, the case wouldn’t have the chance to come before the courts.”

“Does the case have to come before a court?” Anthea asked. “I mean, we could deal with the Baron, quickly and discretely. No-one would ever learn the truth. We do have the means.”

Mycroft nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

“Of course we could; but that would only solve the problem of Violet Merville’s unsuitable marriage. We don’t know what else is recorded in that book of Gruner’s; how many other women have been involved and what became of them.”

“We could search his house and secure the book in no time,” Anthea suggested.

“We could,” Mycroft agreed. “But should we? Any not strictly legal action from our side could prove very uncomfortable for Sherlock’s client.”

“Sherlock’s plans to secure the book aren’t exactly legal, either,” Anthea pointed out truthfully. Mycroft nodded.

“True. But no-one cares if Sherlock does it. Everybody knows that he does this all the time. People accept such things from him, because he’s a civilian and an eccentric genius. They’ll never accept it from us. We’re the government and therefore we are the enemy.”

Anthea nodded, because that was, of course, very true. Sherlock could get away with a great many irregularities, just because he was, well, Sherlock. Especially after all previous accusations against him had turned out false. The fact that the Baron had hired those thugs to beat him up secured the sympathies of the public for him… for a while anyway.

“Surveillance only then?” she asked.

“Surveillance only,” Mycroft nodded. “Grade Three, active. Intervene only when somebody is in grave danger. Unless they ask for it, that is.”

~TBC~