Saturday, 16 August 2014

The Case of the Hapless Secretary - A Herlock Snippet

 Herlock is a lot of fun to write.

 Mostly because Sherlock is a completely unapologetic cow. She's rude to people she's taken against, she's cruel, she's smart and she knows it and she'll seek revenge over the tiniest infraction.

 She won't threaten people by pretending she has a non-existent mental illness, she'll just threaten them.

 She's also extra fun because I have Watson running around after her trying to stop her from doing all of these things.

 Except when he doesn't.

 Which is when things get even more fun.

 Today's snippet is one of those occasions.

 It was inspired by a gif set from Elementary in which Joan 'I bear no resemblance to John' Watson is appalled that she, the assistant, is asked to wait outside because that's what all assistants are asked to do in this random office they're in.

 So I took it and reworked it into something where actual misogyny was happening.

 And happening to a misogynist at that, which is always far more interesting.

Miss Holmes, Consulting Detective

"Um, excuse me?" The secretary said nervously, "I'm afraid assistants wait outside."

This would have been fine. Sherlock doesn't need me to babysit her during meetings.

If I'd been the person who'd been asked.

I was afraid to look at her face.

She was smiling.

"Oh, that's fine," she said cheerfully, maintaining a beatific smile that made a shiver go up my spine every time I dared look at it. She walked over to the waiting area and sat down, crossing her legs and lounging back with her arms on the arms of the chair.

"I'll just wait here."

"You really shouldn't have to..." I protested weakly.

"It's company policy," the secretary said apologetically.

She looked nice, she didn't deserve this.

"It's fine," Sherlock smiled, "I'll just wait here. Don't leave Mr Hendrickson waiting, Sherlock."

"This way, Mr Holmes," the Secretary said cheerily, directing me to walk through the door.

I spared a look at Sherlock who was already looking through the Financial Times like nothing unusual was happening.

I turned to the secretary, "of course. I'll be back momentarily," I told Sherlock.

She shooed me off with one hand, eyes on what I could only assume was an article about some potentially embezzling entrepreneur.

The secretary directed me into Mr Hendrickson's office.

The man himself was sitting behind his desk and looking at something on his iPad.

"You may go, Sandra."

The secretary nodded politely and left, leaving me in the awkward position of not being the famed detective Sherlock Holmes in front of her newest wealthy client.

 After a few moments, and a noise that sounded suspiciously like it was from Candy Crush, Hendrickson looked up.

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Dr Watson? Why are you here? Is Miss Holmes ill?”

I shook my head.

“Er, no. She’s waiting outside.”

“Good heavens, man, why is she doing that?”

“Because your secretary-”


“Yes, Sandra, assumed I was the genius detective Sherlock Holmes.”

He gave me a blank look.

“Oh, she did, did she?”

He put down his iPad and stood up, walking around his desk and heading to the door.

“If you’d so kindly join me, Dr Watson.”

He threw the door to his office open and marched right through Sandra the Secretary’s office to where Sherlock was sitting.

Sandra scuttled after Hendrickson, “Mr Hendrickson? What’s the matter?”

“I am so sorry, Miss Holmes, I cannot believe this has happened. You have my word that Sandra will be sanctioned for this.”

I just managed to catch up with the hapless secretary in time to see the horrified expression on her face.

“Hi,” I whispered cheerfully, “I’m Dr Watson.”

Sherlock was done carefully folding up the Financial Times and put it back down on the coffee table she’d taken it from.

“Oh, it’s a mistake anyone could have made, Mr Hendrickson,” she smiled, “after all, Sherlock isn’t a girl’s name.”

Hendrickson looked confused, but it wasn’t for his benefit, it was for Sandra.

Who currently looked like she wished she could leap from the top of the Shard.

“Well, if you’d be willing to wait for a few minutes, I’ll be with you and Dr Watson directly.”

Sherlock smiled and nodded graciously.

“Please come with me, Sandra,” Hendrickson said through grit teeth as he headed back to his office.

I sat next to Sherlock.

“I’m surprised you went along with that.”

“Yeah, well. This is what? The fourth time this month? It’s getting on my nerves.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, John, it’s only the third.”

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