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A Study in Partnership	By : LadyLaran Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 4967 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own "Sherlock" as that belongs to the BBC. Nor do I make money from this!

Chapter List
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Author’s Note – The reviews I’ve gotten so far for the last chapter have been positive, and I appreciate those of you who spared a few moments to let me know what you thought of it. It seems I made at least one of you laugh with the scene between Johanna and Mycroft. Truthfully, it made me laugh while writing it. I’m really enjoying this story, and it feels as if the tale is writing itself. That’s always fun to experience.
To the one reviewer who left a review but not signed in, I’m honored I was able to set you onto a new aspect of the “Sherlock” fandom. Since you do enjoy the gender-bent aspect now, I suggest you look up OleanderHoney’s stories. She was the one who got me interested in writing a female John to begin with. You cannot go wrong with her works!
Disclaimer – I do not own “Sherlock” nor do I make money from writing this tale. I simply enjoy playing with the characters that are owned by the estate of Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC.
Chapter Four – Settling In
Heat seemed to be all encompassing as the noise of artillery fire, explosions, orders being barked out, and screams of the wounded that begged for aid filled the sand filled air. It was bright, too bright, and the explosions seemed to push the radiance level into a higher spectrum than was comfortable for anyone in the area. The screams for medical attention seemed overwhelming, and the name of the unit’s medic resounded powerfully as the small figure dashed to the first patient to try to drag the man to cover so he could be stabilized.
“Sniper!”
Johanna sat up, a scream bit back before it could be heard and her hand went to her shoulder. She shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment and forcing her breathing into a calmer pace to try to calm down from the rush of emotion.
“London, not Afghanistan. You’re all right, Watson. Pull yourself together,” she muttered to herself, trying to push the panic away. “No snipers or wounded, just you. Pull it together.”
The doctor pushed back the riptide of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her, reaching for her dressing gown so she could put the garment on before heading downstairs. A cup of tea would be precisely what she needed to try to relax. Once it was tied, she rose to her feet and grabbed her cane, limping down the stairs to the living room.
After making the tea, Johanna moved into the living room, curling up on the sofa to try to relax and enjoy the soothing herbal mix of chamomile and vanilla with a dash of honey. The quiet atmosphere was relaxing, but she found that she missed the noise that had followed her flatmate when he had come by earlier that evening. The chaos that had surrounded him had been jarring but entertaining at the same time, and the small woman was looking forward to having that in the flat again. Silence tended to allow her to drift into bad memories, and that was the last thing she wanted after a nightmare.
Time passed slowly between cups of tea, and it was seven thirty in the morning when the too solemn atmosphere was disturbed by the cyclone of energy that was Sherlock Holmes. He paused after taking three steps into the flat, watching her for several long seconds.
“I hadn’t expected you to be awake at this hour. Bad dreams, I take it?”
“One of things I warned you to expect when you brought up the idea of sharing a flat,” she reminded the genius. “They happen to be more common than I’d like.”
Dark curls fell over his forehead when he nodded, setting a box down onto the desk.
“The movers will be here in about half an hour,” he told her. “I decided to be here early so I could determine where to put everything. Do you have an issue if I were to use the kitchen for a laboratory?”
“I don’t mind as long as there’s space to store the dishware and tea necessities. I can’t cook, so I pretty much buy frozen foods or salads to eat most of the time. Leave me room for that without fear of contamination, and I won’t complain as long as proper laboratory protocols are maintained.”
He gave her a small smile, pleased with her answer. Sherlock had a feeling they might get along rather well after all, and Johanna was proving him to be right at every turn.
“I will endeavor to do so,” he replied, starting to unpack the box he had brought in.
“In the meantime, I need to shower and get ready for the day. If you need help with unpacking after I’m done, I don’t mind lending a hand.”
When he didn’t answer, Johanna went up to get a change of clothing before heading downstairs to use the bathroom. She hung the dressing gown on the hook and laid her change of clothing on the toilet before starting the water for the shower. The old pipes groaned when the water pressure changed, diverting water up to 221B’s bathroom, and it took a few moments before the liquid warmed enough for the doctor to begin to clean up for the day.
Showered, groomed, and dressed, Johanna carried her night wear and dressing gown up to her room, putting it away, before limping downstairs to join her flatmate in the living room. Boxes were all over the place with more coming as the movers brought the cardboard containers into the flat.
“My goodness,” she commented, looking around. The physician had not expected to see this many containers and was reminded that not many people had to live a simple life as she had lately.
“It does seem like a lot, but most of it contains books or case files,” Sherlock answered, hanging what looked to be a cow’s head on the wall.
“All right then,” Johanna said, knowing she would be adding to her own library as funds allowed. “Where should I start?”
“Books, if you don’t mind. I have them separated and packed by subject,” he replied, putting headphones on the cow, and she hid a laugh at the sight.
“Alphabetized?”
“Yes,” Sherlock said, pulling a skull out of another box and setting it on the mantel. He noticed Johanna’s stare and shrugged.
“It’s a friend; well, I say friend,” he trailed off.
“It’s fine, Sherlock. Unique choice for decoration but fine,” she told him, opening a box to begin sorting through the first books. Johanna quickly alphabetized the books in each subject, then began loading the shelves from bottom to top, leaving the ones she couldn’t reach for her flatmate to fill.
The small woman got quite a bit done before having to stop, going to where her medical kit was stored in her room to retrieve her heating treatment. The bag had been gifted to her by a nurse before she had been released from hospital, and it was a dark blue fabric sewn together to hold the rice that had been stuffed into the bag. Johanna heated it in the microwave before limping to the chair she’d claimed and laid it over her injured shoulder. The bag curved around her shoulder while the heated rice began to soothe the bone deep ache.
“You have been released from physical therapy,” Sherlock asked, looking at her for a few moments to analyze just how bad she was feeling.
“Yes, I have,” Johanna replied, realizing what he was about to ask. “There are several series of exercises I have to do every day for both shoulder and ankle, but there was little more the physical therapist can do. Unfortunately, overdoing it can cause the shoulder to flare up.”
“The shoulder is a necessary body part, uses almost consistently throughout the day so that will be something you will have to live with,” he mused. “As it grows older, the wound might not flare as much due to being used.”
“But the weather will be problematic,” the doctor agreed, holding a slight note of unhappiness in her voice. “Living where I do, that’s something I have to put up with for the rest of my life. I’ve got a few reliable homeopathic remedies to use so I don’t have to rely on pharmaceuticals all the time. I have had enough of certain medications.”
The consulting detective frowned at that statement and the tone used. It hinted at something else, a possible complication during his flatmate’s recovery, and he did not comment on it when he spotted the look on her face. However, he would be alert for more hints regarding her past and the recovery she had gone through after her injuries in Afghanistan. The doctor was becoming more interesting by the moment, and he was rather intrigued by her. The actions she had taken last night had proven that her spirit had not been broken even though he had thought it was close to that when he had seen her at Bart’s.
Sherlock continued to unpack, occasionally watching her as the heated pack began to work on her. He noticed the tense lines of her body began to ease into relaxation, realizing that it wasn’t just the heat that was helping her relax. When he passed her to put some files onto the desk, he caught a floral scent emanating from the unusual bag over her shoulder.
“Jasmine,” he asked, knowing she wasn’t asleep even though her eyes were closed.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “The nurse who made this for me usually puts lavender into these, but I’m allergic so she put jasmine into it to help me relax. She showed me how to put new scent in once this one fades.”
Johanna opened an eye, looking at her flatmate as a thought occurred to her.
“Question, Sherlock, and I know it’s rather stupid but I need to know. Do you know how to use an epi-pen?”
“I do,” he answered, tilting his head at her. “You have allergies severe enough to require that you carry one?”
“Unfortunately,” the small woman answered. “I’ll have to get the list to you so you know what to keep away from me if any of the substances are required for your experiments. It’s not a long one, but the reactions are serious enough to hospitalize me. I usually keep it in my left jacket pocket in case it’s needed, and I am unable to administer it myself.”
“Understood,” Sherlock replied, storing the data away but keeping it close enough at hand in case it was required. He would not want to risk his flatmate’s health in regards to these allergies. She was proving to be unique, and the detective was pleased to have found her.
The watch on her wrist chimed at her, and Johanna frowned as she stared at it before rising to her feet with a soft groan. She limped upstairs, somehow managing to keep a hold on her cane and not dislodge the heat pack.
Sherlock frowned, a bit intrigued when his flatmate came back down with a hand clenched around something as she limped into the kitchen. He could hear her muttering under her breath but couldn’t tell what she was saying as it was in a language he didn’t recognize. Water ran for a few moments, and he could see her fill a glass and take what looked to be several large pills and a few smaller tablets.
Johanna cleaned the glass, reheated her pack, and then went back to her chair. Once she was situated, the detective turned to look at her. Before he could ask, she held up a hand to stop the question that she knew was coming. For some reason, the doctor did not seem to mind sharing a bit more about herself than she usually would with anyone around her.
“My immune system took a beating after I was shot; I had multiple infections and wound up catching pneumonia and a form of malaria that managed to slip through the medications the army gives its troops,” she murmured. “Even though I’ve been released from the care of my physical therapist, I’ve not been medically cleared to return to any form of medical work yet.”
“Not until your body rebuilds enough strength to handle exposure to common illnesses again,” Sherlock theorized, taken a bit aback by the limited information she had given him. Given her appearance, he understood just how difficult her recovery had been up until this point.
“Exactly,” Johanna replied, voice calm. “So it means eating small frequent meals to attain my proper weight, exercise to rebuild my strength, and plenty of vitamins and medications to support my health until I’m back to where I should be physically. Unfortunately, it also means I cannot add to the pension I receive by working at hospital or a surgery until I’m cleared to do so.”
“That would be rather dull,” he responded, sorting through some files.
“Excruciatingly so,” she told him. “I am more the type to try to stay active mentally and physically, and these restrictions only serve to frustrate me.”
“The language you were speaking a few moments ago, what was that? I could not place it,” he asked, turning that uniquely colored gaze onto her.
“Dari,” Johanna answered, adjusting the heat pack on her shoulder. “I picked it and Pashto up during my time in Afghanistan and often helped the translators whenever injured came into the camps or when I was out with my unit. It came in handy quite a few times.”
Sherlock was quiet a moment and before he could speak, she questioned him in hopes of turning the conversation away from her. Johanna wasn’t as uncomfortable speaking about herself as she usually was but would rather have the topic changed.
“Can you tell me about some of the cases you’ve worked in the past?”
Several hours sped by as he shared the various cases he had worked on recently and despite the dry facts that were presented to her, Johanna listened on in fascination. She was able to follow most of his words, putting the facts together to see how he had reached his conclusions.
“You were able to pull all of this together without the aid of the forensics team?”
“I have some understanding of medicine,” Sherlock admitted. “Not as much as a trained surgeon like yourself but enough to work with. Scotland Yard’s forensic experts are a bunch of idiots, and most refuse to work with me.”
“Probably hate it that you’re right where they’re wrong,” she answered, removing the heat pack and setting it onto the table by her chair. “And if some of them think they can solve it as quickly as you do without the benefit of all the facts, then I think delusional may be added to the complaint of stupidity.”
Sherlock chuckled at that, setting up his music stand and supplies for his composing work.
“Very true,” he said.
“Have you got a case on now,” she asked, rather curious about his work.
“Not at the moment but there is one that has me intrigued. Have you read about the suicides that have been happening?”
Johanna nodded, frowning as she did so.
“The first one happened right before I was released from hospital,” the blond admitted. “It seems rather odd that these people would take their own lives, especially since there had been no signs of suicidal ideation before. Either something caused a major downward spiral to the point where there was no way out or there’s more going on behind the scenes that hasn’t emerged yet.”
The detective gave her a look of satisfaction, realizing she’d spotted what had made him curious about the case. She caught the look and went forward with her thoughts.
“Granted, I don’t have the information about their lives but there was no sign of a traumatic event that would have an effect on multiple people to cause a rash of suicides like what happened during the stock market crash that marked the Great Depression in the US. If it was a suicide pact, then it’d mean that the three of them crossed paths somehow in order to form this pact and the plan. I thought I heard or read a report somewhere that said all three victims had no connections to each other at all.”
“Exactly,” he murmured, watching her think through the few details she knew as he finished setting up his music area.
“Somehow, something happened that caused all three of them to kill themselves but what was it? The method of suicide was by ingesting poison, right?”
“Yes, it was according to what I’ve been able to determine,” he answered, sitting in his chair now that the unpacking was finished.
Johanna shook her head, frowning as she thought things through.
“A person could be forced to take the poison but the method would be difficult,” she mused. “I’ve not seen the post-mortem reports so I don’t know if there were any signs of defensive wounds to try to stop someone from pushing the pill down their throat. If someone were to use a gun to threaten them into taking the poison, it might work.”
“Why do you say might,” Sherlock asked, eyes glowing with interest.
“Well, some people do read up on morbid things and would know that poison is not an easy way to die,” she told him. “Truth be told, if someone were try to force me to take a pill that held poison via gunpoint, I’d tell them to use the gun.”
The detective rose from his seat, heading to the window.
“I think more data will be forthcoming,” he told her. “There’s been a fourth one, and something is different with this one because Lestrade has finally decided to bring me in.”
Johanna heard the doorbell ring and moments later, a man dashed up into their flat. She could see the exhaustion and frustration on his face, realizing he had been pulling long hours on this case. Before he could speak, her flatmate broke the silence.
“What’s different about the suicide this time?”
“You know how they never leave a note? Well, this one did,” Lestrade told the consulting detective.
“Who’s on forensics,” Sherlock asked, turning to look at the newcomer. He was intrigued by what the policeman had told him but hid it for the moment.
“Anderson,” the silver haired male replied, hiding a groan at the other male’s reaction to the news. Those two never seemed to get along.
“Anderson won’t work with me,” the younger man grumbled, then his expression cleared. “However, I do have someone who has better credentials than he does that can help me.”
“Sherlock, I’m sticking my neck out as it is in asking you to visit the crime scene. You can’t bring just anyone with you just because you feel like it.”
The curly haired detective smirked, turning to his flatmate. Johanna had been listening to the conversation, quickly realizing who it was he had been speaking of when he’d said he had someone with better credentials than this Anderson. She rose to her feet, leaning against the cane for a moment.
“Who is this then?”
Sherlock didn’t answer, eyes focused on Johanna.
“You’ve seen a lot of violent deaths and been in a lot of action,” he began. “Feel up to seeing more?”
Lestrade broke in again, repeating his question with aggravation in his voice. He was frustrated at Sherlock’s refusal to answer him.
“Who is this you’re inviting, Sherlock?”
Her voice answered the police detective, calm and full of authority.
“I am Dr. Johanna Watson, former captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and RAMC surgeon,” she told him. “I will be assisting Sherlock Holmes during this case.”
Author’s End Note – Another chapter done! The more I write this, the more I like this story and am anxious to keep going on it. I truly hope everyone enjoys this installment. Let me know what you think. ~ Laran
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A Study in Partnership