"The appointment is in three days' time. Nine o'clock, with Mary Morstan."
"Very well. And where is Doctor Morstan's office?"
"Ms Mary Morstan... is a psychiatric nurse."
"Surely someone more qualified would be better suited to..."
"Oh, Mary is uniquely qualified. She is an expert at this type of deprogramming. Need I remind you that you do not possess a single degree in criminology, nor could you add formal police training to your personal CV?"
"Point taken." Sherlock still felt uneasy, but perhaps he would with anyone. This was, after all, John's mental well-being at stake. "Where is her office?"
"She would prefer to meet John at Baker Street, on his own 'home turf', so to speak. She wants to observe how he interacts when he is most at ease, and requests you not be present, but that you give him formal leave to speak with her about anything he wishes to-- including you-- in your absence."
Sherlock's response was swift. "I would like to meet with her first."
"I anticipated that possibility. Noon today."
"I can't leave John alone."
"Surely a man dedicated to catering to your... every whim... is capable of taking care of himself for a few hours."
Sherlock started pacing the room. "Fine. Fine, fine, fine. Where is her office?"
The office, just off Leinster Gardens, was completely lacking in personality, and appeared to have been set up fairly recently by a rather soulless interior decorator afraid to offend clients by showing something as crass as an actual personality. It was precisely what Sherlock had hoped not to see. White walls, two white leather chairs, fake white flowers on a (not white! quelle suprise!) antique pedestal.
Mary Morstan arrived promptly and extended her hand in greeting. Sherlock took her hand, though his focus remained the bookcase, eyeing the volumes for a clue as to her methodology.
"Some of them are gifts from my professor, a mentor to me. He'd be insulted if I didn't at least display them, although I admit I've strayed quite a bit from the original training I received. You are welcome to ask me anything you'd like about my approach."
Sherlock smiled. She was quicker than he had expected. "Unnecessary. Besides, in the softer sciences, what we think we do, according to our grasp of theory, and what we do in actuality can often be at odds. Theory can only get you so far; after that, puzzles are solved with instinct and adaptation as additional facts are uncovered."
"Mr Holmes reviewed John's file with me." Hearing her call him 'John' with such ease made Sherlock vaguely uncomfortable. "It seems we are both in the business of uncovering mysteries, Mr Holmes. It's odd, referring to both of you as Mr Holmes. Might I call you Sherlock, seeing as you are my patient's friend, and... not my boss?"
"Whatever you wish."
"Good. It would help if we could show John we have a friendly rapport. But, let's be more direct. Even at the risk of being blunt. You're not exactly his friend, are you? Please, have a seat, Sherlock."
"I prefer to stand, Mary." He expected to see some indication of discomfort now that they were on equal footing, nominally, at least, but she appeared to take no offense. "Yes, he calls me his master. Right now, he has no other experiences from which to draw to determine if another label might be more appropriate. But I am still his friend, no matter what he chooses to call me. On my end, it has never changed."
Mary sat in one of the white chairs and crossed her legs. "Yet you purchased him?"
"Why is this made to be such an issue? Yes. Yes I did. Of course I did. I got him out of there and kept him safe." Sherlock momentarily eyed the door as an escape, but instead, took a chair and slid it closer, to better observe Mary. "Do you have a better alternative to suggest with your glorious hindsight? One that wouldn't have risked losing track of him as he was transferred to whatever vile creature would purchase him, use him..."
"Certainly not. It was expedient, straight-forward, and precisely what I would have done-- given I had the cash."
"A minor detail." Sherlock smiled and relaxed, but no sooner had he done so than he realised he had let his guard down terribly. This woman was interesting.
FILL 13a/? "138" (John in slave auction)
"Very well. And where is Doctor Morstan's office?"
"Ms Mary Morstan... is a psychiatric nurse."
"Surely someone more qualified would be better suited to..."
"Oh, Mary is uniquely qualified. She is an expert at this type of deprogramming. Need I remind you that you do not possess a single degree in criminology, nor could you add formal police training to your personal CV?"
"Point taken." Sherlock still felt uneasy, but perhaps he would with anyone. This was, after all, John's mental well-being at stake. "Where is her office?"
"She would prefer to meet John at Baker Street, on his own 'home turf', so to speak. She wants to observe how he interacts when he is most at ease, and requests you not be present, but that you give him formal leave to speak with her about anything he wishes to-- including you-- in your absence."
Sherlock's response was swift. "I would like to meet with her first."
"I anticipated that possibility. Noon today."
"I can't leave John alone."
"Surely a man dedicated to catering to your... every whim... is capable of taking care of himself for a few hours."
Sherlock started pacing the room. "Fine. Fine, fine, fine. Where is her office?"
The office, just off Leinster Gardens, was completely lacking in personality, and appeared to have been set up fairly recently by a rather soulless interior decorator afraid to offend clients by showing something as crass as an actual personality. It was precisely what Sherlock had hoped not to see. White walls, two white leather chairs, fake white flowers on a (not white! quelle suprise!) antique pedestal.
Mary Morstan arrived promptly and extended her hand in greeting. Sherlock took her hand, though his focus remained the bookcase, eyeing the volumes for a clue as to her methodology.
"Some of them are gifts from my professor, a mentor to me. He'd be insulted if I didn't at least display them, although I admit I've strayed quite a bit from the original training I received. You are welcome to ask me anything you'd like about my approach."
Sherlock smiled. She was quicker than he had expected. "Unnecessary. Besides, in the softer sciences, what we think we do, according to our grasp of theory, and what we do in actuality can often be at odds. Theory can only get you so far; after that, puzzles are solved with instinct and adaptation as additional facts are uncovered."
"Mr Holmes reviewed John's file with me." Hearing her call him 'John' with such ease made Sherlock vaguely uncomfortable. "It seems we are both in the business of uncovering mysteries, Mr Holmes. It's odd, referring to both of you as Mr Holmes. Might I call you Sherlock, seeing as you are my patient's friend, and... not my boss?"
"Whatever you wish."
"Good. It would help if we could show John we have a friendly rapport. But, let's be more direct. Even at the risk of being blunt. You're not exactly his friend, are you? Please, have a seat, Sherlock."
"I prefer to stand, Mary." He expected to see some indication of discomfort now that they were on equal footing, nominally, at least, but she appeared to take no offense. "Yes, he calls me his master. Right now, he has no other experiences from which to draw to determine if another label might be more appropriate. But I am still his friend, no matter what he chooses to call me. On my end, it has never changed."
Mary sat in one of the white chairs and crossed her legs. "Yet you purchased him?"
"Why is this made to be such an issue? Yes. Yes I did. Of course I did. I got him out of there and kept him safe." Sherlock momentarily eyed the door as an escape, but instead, took a chair and slid it closer, to better observe Mary. "Do you have a better alternative to suggest with your glorious hindsight? One that wouldn't have risked losing track of him as he was transferred to whatever vile creature would purchase him, use him..."
"Certainly not. It was expedient, straight-forward, and precisely what I would have done-- given I had the cash."
"A minor detail." Sherlock smiled and relaxed, but no sooner had he done so than he realised he had let his guard down terribly. This woman was interesting.