Chapter Text
John sits somewhat awkwardly in the Holmes’ receiving room. In this match of titles to wealth, it is readily clear where the wealth resides. The titles, on the other hand, are much less clear in John’s posture and bearing. Doctor and Captain are the only ones he lays claim to with any regularity. The others, inherited, fit like a moldy waistcoat three sizes too small.
At last, the far door opens, elaborately carved wood moving on silent hinges. A man leans in, his gaze sharp across the sizable room. His eyes flick down John the once, then back up to the crown of his head.
Before John can register more than dark hair and incredible cheekbones, the man vanishes, slamming the door behind him.
Stunned, half-risen from his seat, John hesitates before standing fully. When nothing else happens, John approaches the door and tries the handle. Locked.
Frowning, John bypasses the sofa, instead going to the door he’d entered by. Unlocked. He finds his way around fairly quickly, having experience in old, immense houses. The increasingly loud shouting match is also a hint.
“—you would have loathed him, Sherlock.”
“That was the point! What am I supposed to do with this one? I want a money-grubbing fool I can torment, not a self-sacrificing lamb!”
“You could consider speaking with him.”
“No. I demand an alternative!”
“It’s much too late, I’m afraid. Mummy’s quite set on him. Excellent family until the sister lost the fortune on gambling and drink.”
John reaches the room housing this argument without being spotted by any of the household staff. Some old habits are always worth keeping. He knocks on the door. Immediately, the voice inside silence themselves.
John opens the door. “Excuse me,” he says to the man from before and his slightly taller brother. “If you want me to be a complete arse, I can arrange that. Won’t be a problem in the slightest.” He smiles his politest.
The man from before—certainly Sherlock Holmes—stares at him for a long, hard seven seconds, each counted out in excruciating precision by the grandfather clock behind him. Then Sherlock Holmes sighs and turns to his brother.
“Fine. I’ll have him.”