Part 30 - Flatmate Check
Mar. 15th, 2013 01:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soledad_writes posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
13th_sherlockby Soledad
EPISODE 03 – A STUDY IN PINK
PART 30 – FLATMATE CHECK
“So, my little brother’s gone and got himself a flatmate,” Mycroft mused. “That was fast. What can you tell me about this… person, Ianto?”
Ianto’s eyes became unfocused as always when he called up data from his photographic memory.
“Captain John Hamish Watson, age 39, a member of the RAMC, was deployed to Afghanistan until invalided from service after being wounded in action,” he began.
“Do you have any details about the nature of the injury?” Mycroft asked.
Ianto nodded. “Of course, sir. He was struck in the shoulder by a bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. He was saved by one of the Army nurses, a certain Bill Murray who’s also returned to the UK in the meantime, but they don’t actually have any contact in the moment. He also has a psychosomatic limp, caused by mental and emotional trauma rather than a physical wound, and an intermittent tremor in his left hand. His therapist, Miss Ella Thompson – arranged for him by the military – thinks it’s from PTSD. She also mentions that he’s got serious trust issues.”
“Interesting,” Mycroft drawled. “What about family?”
“Parents are both deceased,” Ianto supplied the details. “He’s got one older sister, Harriet Watson. She used to live in a civil partnership with another woman, Clara McGrath, but they split up three months ago and are getting a divorce.”
“Reason?” Mycroft asked.
Ianto did that weird unfocused-eyed routine again. “Harriet Watson is a drinker. Her partner objected to her drinking, and she simply walked out on her, being more interested in the bottle than in her partner.”
“Is that why Dr. Watson won’t accept help from her?” Mycroft asked. Ianto shrugged.
“Probably. Their mother had drunk herself to death. Perhaps he didn’t want to watch his sister doing the same. But it might also be the fact that Harriet’s on the brink of losing her current job and he didn’t want to lie on her pocket.”
Mycroft nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds plausible. Any other family? A wife? Children?”
“Ex-wife,” Ianto corrected. “Name’s Mary Morstan… or, if you want her authentic, Indian name, Mira Marsti. They married very young, much to the dismay of both families, and her family finally succeeded to break up the marriage shortly before Dr. Watson would be deployed to Afghanistan.”
“I assume the break-up was the reason why Dr. Watson hired up in the first place,” Mycroft said.
Ianto shrugged. “Perhaps, sir. On the other hand, it wasn’t really an out of character decision for Dr. Watson. He’d worked at A&E before hiring up, after all; and right after graduation, he spent two years in India, working for Médiciens Sans Frontiers. He seems to be a man with a strong social engagement.”
“Who’s going to look at a flat that he’d be sharing with a sociopath,” Mycroft commented sourly. “That will be an interesting arrangement… not to mention a volatile one.”
“May I respectfully point out, sir, that it was you who insisted on portraying him as a sociopath?” Ianto asked politely; then, with a barely perceptive change in his demeanour, he added. “Of course, this is a highly creative way to explain his rudeness and his blatant disregard for almost the entire human race.”
Mycroft raised an amused eyebrow. “Why, Mr. Jones, I almost get the impression that you’re not particularly fond of my little brother!”
There was so much fake hurt in his voice that Ianto had to laugh, whether he wanted or not. Still, there was one detail that irked him a bit.
“You keep calling him your little brother,” he said. “It’s… rather strange, when one knows who – and what – he really is.”
“Well, that’s exactly what he is now: my little brother,” Mycroft reasoned. “You better get used to if, as he’ll remain that for quite a while.”
“And what will he be for you once he gets restored to his true self?” Ianto asked.
Mycroft gave a long-suffering sigh. “A nuisance.”
Clearly, it was Ianto’s turn with the raised eyebrow now, and he didn’t get the opportunity slip through his metaphoric fingers. “So, where’s the difference, sir?”
“I find I can more easily tolerate him like this,” Mycroft admitted ruefully.
Ianto flashed him a brief, knowing smile.
“When he depends on you in many ways and can’t just leave on a whim if he gets bored?” he clarified.
Mycroft nodded. “I must confess a certain… satisfaction about it. Even if it costs a lot of time and effort to watch him.”
“Must we, sir?” Ianto asked. “Watch him, I mean. He’s a grown man… alien... after all, and it isn’t his first time on Earth. In fact, it isn’t the first time he’s stranded on Earth.”
“And that’s exactly what concerns me,” Mycroft said. “The chameleon arch works amazingly well, but it isn’t bullet-proof; nothing in the multiverse is. Memories of his earlier times on Earth might leak through… and we need to know about it in the nanosecond it happens.”
“And do what?” Ianto asked doubtfully. “Retcon him? Or let him revert to his true self?”
“Not right away, no,” Mycroft replied. “Not without watching his reactions to potential flashbacks closely.”
“In which a flatmate could be helpful, considering that they’d be living together,” Ianto was finally getting the idea.
Mycroft nodded. “Exactly. Security cameras can only show us the bare facts: events, reactions, that sort of thing. They are completely useless when it comes to thought processes, plans or motivations. Which is why an insider informant would be so valuable.”
Ianto nodded slowly. It made sense. He just wasn’t sure that John Watson would be willingly playing his assigned part of the game.
“You want Dr. Watson to spy on your... brother,” he said.
It wasn’t a question, but Mycroft nodded nonetheless.
“What makes you sure he’ll be ready to do so?”
That was a question, albeit a fairly rhetoric one. Mycroft chose to deign it with an answer anyway.
“He’s not a wealthy man. He hasn’t got a job, has no income save that meagre Army pension of his, no savings. Even a flatshare will be a considerable financial effort for him. He can use the money.”
“Who can’t?” Ianto commented philosophically. “However, sir, I don’t think Dr. Watson would see spying on his flatmate as an honourable way to earn his living. Even if it would be done to ease a loving older brother’s concerns,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “He seems to be a man of strong moral principles.”
“In that case I’ll have to be a little more… persuasive,” the older Holmes said with a superior smile. Ianto shook his head.
“I’m afraid, sir, you’ll have to put up one hell of an appearance if you want to buy that man.”
“Everyone has his price, Ianto,” Mycroft said mildly. “Even a war hero like Dr. John Watson.”
“Perhaps,” Ianto allowed. “But not everyone’s always interested.”
“Perhaps not,” Mycroft shrugged. “Would you be interested in a little bet? If Dr. Watson accepts my offer, you’ll give Anthea the passwords to what’s left from Torchwood London’s Mainframe.”
“And if the good doctor rejects the offer?” Ianto asked.
“Unlikely,” Mycroft said with utmost confidence. “But for fairness’ sake: what would you want?”
“Some time alone with a certain Mr. Dekker in a soundproof room and unlimited access to the strongest truth serum on this planet,” Ianto replied darkly.
~TBC~
(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-16 02:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-16 03:51 pm (UTC)And Mycroft needs to be proven wrong from time to time, or he'd get a terribly swollen head, don't you think? ;))