#what does gregson's face look like? your guess is as good as mine

[skyriderwednesday]

This sketch is entitled 'Gregson and Lestrade have questions...'

[notgonnarememberthis]

The Lying Angel - Chapter 2

The reception of this fic was so wonderful! Thank you guys so much! I plan on writing this fic to completion but I have no prediction of how long it will be just yet. Just stick with me and we’ll see where this road takes us! Enjoy!

The cab ride was eerily silent besides the incessant tapping of the sole of Sherlock’s shoe as he bounced his leg. It was like that the entire way to the airport where apparently Dylan had a plane waiting. Sherlock made quite a show of taking an opposite end of the plane as the two women made their way into the cockpit. Joan sits herself in the copilot’s seat securing all of the necessary equipment on herself.

“Still remember how to fly?” Dylan teases lightly in an attempt to ease the tension in the air.

“Like riding a bike.” Joan quips back automatically. They fall into a steady rhythm setting up for flight. It was like they’d never separated…

“So… Who’s the guy?” Dylan’s flipped on autopilot spinning around to face her. Not good.

“He’s my co-worker.” A pointed look brings Joan to roll her eyes. “I met him a few months after I left. I became a sober companion and his father called me. Now we work as private investigators for the NYPD.”

“You’ve never liked local police.”

“Marcus and Gregson are different. They’re good.”

“And who are they?” Joan glares at the woman.

“Oh come on! Far as I know, you’re the only angel not in a relationship. I gotta maintain some of my sanity in this whole mess.” Dylan frowns.

“You’re in a steady relationship with someone who’s not a bad guy?” She smirks.

“Turns out all I needed was a good girl to balance it out.” Her head snaps around quickly staring at the redhead next to her.

“How long?”

“About 2 years now. I met her while on a case in Hawaii. She moved to Washington when she got put on witness protection. Guess we had something in common.” The smile on her lips is brighter than Joan’s seen in awhile. She reaches over squeezing her friend’s hand.

“I’m happy for you Dylan. I hope I get to meet her.”

“I hope so.” She grins. “Cause now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

“I count on it.” Joan laughs. Dylan sighs shifting in her seat uncomfortably. She knows what’s coming. “No.”

“Alex… We need to talk about what happened.”

“No we don’t.” She insists.

“It’s not your fault.”

“We’re not talking about this.” Joan pushes.

“Why are you pushing me away again? It’s been five years.”

“I’m not talking about this now.” She sighs pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to will the image away.

“Does he know?”

“Barely.” Joan sighs. “He thinks I was a surgeon. I already had my medical license so it wasn’t hard to keep up with the lie.”

“I mean your dad did for how long?”

“Seven years.” She smiles slightly at the memory. “Sherlock couldn’t know what I did. I didn’t want him ever to. That’s why I used an alias for my name. I created Alex so the people around me wouldn’t get hurt because of me. Now look where we are.”

“You should really talk to him.”

“And say what?” She scoffs. “I’m sorry I’ve known you for five years and you had no idea I was an American spy for a guy whose face I’ve never seen. I’m sorry I let you believe you were teaching me how to defend myself when I know seven different ways how to kill a man with nothing more than a paperclip and a piece of string.”

“Hey you have to admit that was a fun op.” Dylan laughs for a second. “I see what you mean though.”

“Sherlock isn’t the same as anyone else. His ex kind of turned out to be a crazy murderer he was hunting for nearly a year. He discovered this years after she faked her own murder.”

“Whoa.”

“I’ve ruined it all.”

“Joan… go talk to him. It’ll be rough but he cares about you. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been that hurt by the truth.”

“Don’t call me Joan. That’s weird.” Dylan laughs shortly. “You can still call me Alex.”

“Okay Alex. Go.”

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.”

She finds Sherlock sitting at the back of the plan computer opened in front of him, no doubt with hundreds of articles opened being read in less than five seconds each. He hears her approaching, she can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Not sure whether to remain still or to run. Joan takes the place across from him. His eyes flicker up to her with doubt filling them.

“What do you want to know?” This catches his attention. He closes his laptop meeting her eyes now.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to be hurt. The only time I was Alex was around Dylan, Nat, and a few choice boyfriends I met on assignments.”

“I could’ve handled it.”

“I couldn’t.” He frowns in confusion now. “I did kill that man. He didn’t die on my table though. Nat and Dylan were chasing down a man that had planned an attack on a senator. I was guarding him… I spotted the man and he was about to take the shot. So I took mine… I missed.”

“Watson…”

“I hit a civilian. He was just walking to work, that’s it. Completely innocent and I killed him.”

“Joan.”

“You have every right to be angry Sherlock. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.” She whispers just barely loud enough for him to hear.

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, not fond of emotional moments. “I am angry. I thought you trusted me as I do you.” She could feel his eyes on her, analyzing her. It’s painful but she deserves it. “I wish you’d have told me sooner rather than finding out this way.” He grabs her hand snatching her eyes to his once more when she could no longer take the disappointment filling them. “I only wish for you to be honest with me Watson. We are partners are we not?”

“We are.”

“Very well. Now I would like to hear about the time some mysterious women saved Mount Rushmore.” He says with a raised eyebrow. A tiny smile etches at her lips. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Rather a desire to learn more. To learn the truth.

“As you wish.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They landed in a field somewhere in Georgia. The landing strip was relatively abandoned amongst the expanse of plants around them aside from a lonesome building at the edge of it.

“I’ve got a car waiting for us inside the garage. Follow me.” Dylan explains leading the way. The silence was more comfortable than before but still unbearing. Dread mixed with a little bit of fear filled both of the women as they inched closer to the city.

Joan spies the blonde as they pull up on the street. She’s standing outside alone with her arms wrapped around herself in some way of self protection. She has to keep herself from launching out of the car as soon as they slow down. Once she’s positive they’ve come to a stop she’s running out to comfort her friend.

“Nat.” She whispers wrapping her in a fierce hug.

“Alex.” The other woman mumbles back burying her face in her shoulder. As she pulls back she can see Natalie’s eyes are red rimmed from tears, her nose bright against the sun as well.

“Where’s Pete?”

“Inside talking to his parents. I insisted that he go and stay with them until we’re sure it’s safe.” She nods understanding. Suddenly the woman’s eyes grow hard and her stance defensive as her gaze falls behind her. “Who’s that?”

She spins around and sure enough Sherlock is already combing through the yard looking for evidence of footprints or a struggle. Leave it to him not even to introduce himself. “That’s Sherlock Holmes. He’s my partner.”

“Partner?” Natalie’s eyes go wide before falling to her hands.

“Not like that.”

“Mhm.” Dylan hums from behind her earning an elbow to the gut. “Ow. Play nice.”

“Wait.” Natalie freezes. “The Sherlock Holmes? Like best private investigator in New York Sherlock Holmes?”

“And Joan Watson.” Dylan teases bumping hips with her.

“You’re Joan Watson!?” Natalie laughs momentarily forgetting the situation at hand. “I should have figured one of the two best detectives in New York was my little miss overachiever.”

“Stop.” Joan mutters as her cheeks flush red. “We’re here to help however we can.”

“Right.” The joy disappears from her face as she leads them all inside. Pete is pacing in the kitchen on the phone and Natalie goes ahead and leads them up the stairs. The house looks relatively untouched. No pictures out of line, no empty spots where an item once was.

The creek of the door snaps Joan out of her thoughts as Natalie leads them to Charlie’s room. Joan takes her hand for support as she guides them inside. Surely enough the struggle is the most evident inside. The curtains are torn down in front of the open window, toys scattered across the floor. The only comfort she could find was that there was no evidence of blood anywhere.

The message written into the walls is even more ominous in person than the photos Dylan had shown her. As if instinctively, Sherlock passes her a pair of gloves and plastic bags. She’s not sure how much evidence they’ll find but it won’t hurt to try.

“Mrs…”

“Cook.”

“Ah yes. Mrs. Cook, did Charlie express worries about previous encounters with anyone? Someone may have come up to him in the street? Perhaps at school?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Did Charlie act strange before his disappearance?”

“No.” Their voices fade as Joan steps into the hall to investigate herself. As she’s making her way through she spies a set of photos on a desk at the far side of the room. Natalie has her arms wrapped around Charlie as they saddle a horse together. In another, Dylan has her arm wrapped around the back of a tanned woman with a wavy hair. Come and see us soon. -Dylan and Nomi, was inscribed into the frame. Next, a photo of herself from before they left sipping a cup of tea by the fireplace. A chill runs down her spine at the last photo, however. It was from they went to the beach with Bosley all those years ago. The three of them had their arms wrapped around each other with the sea in the background. However, their faces had been x-ed out. On the back of the frame was a message carved with a knife.

All the angels will fall and join us mortals in their descent.