storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2015-04-13 11:55 am
storypaint) wrote2015-04-13 11:55 am
[Elementary] it is just a system (Irene/Joan/Sherlock)
Title: it is just a system
Fandom: Elementary
Length: 560 words
Prompt: comment_fic: Elementary, Irene Adler/Joan Watson/Sherlock Holmes, AU where they’re all criminals
Pairing: slight Irene/Joan/Sherlock, mostly gen
Other: AU as per prompt. Violence, mention of drugs, and outsider POV.
Excerpt: Those three especially gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was something in the way they looked at each other, like they were sharing especially nasty secrets without saying a word. It was in the blonde's little quirky smile, and the business-like professionalism of the Asian woman, whose smile never reached her eyes. And it was in the way the British man talked and talked and talked, and the way the other two managed him, with the ease of long practice.
No one ever got to meet Moriarty. At least, no one that Jack met with answered to that name. He saw rotating lieutenants, most commonly three -- an antsy British man, a cool Asian-American woman, and a friendly blonde. He liked the blonde the best, and often wondered how she'd gotten mixed up in this mess. His part in it was drug production -- small fry, from what he'd heard on the streets about Moriarty and his gang. Moriarty himself -- or the group that called themselves that -- had his fingers in a lot of different pies, from trafficking to the mob to blackmail to murder, just to name a few.
He wasn't the kind of guy to ask questions, like why their operation had abruptly crossed the seas and come to New York, come to his backyard, where the bubbly blonde had asked him cheerful questions about his garden that became more and more pointed until he was sure it was a police sting -- but it wasn't.
"I represent a certain organization," the woman told him, "and we are interested..."
"Interested" was not the right word. He understood a threat when he heard it, veiled or not, even in her New Jersey drawl. He did what he was asked to do, provided a quality product and didn't skim. If he'd ever been the type of guy to sample his own wares, he would have stopped. Those three especially gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was something in the way they looked at each other, like they were sharing especially nasty secrets without saying a word. It was in the blonde's little quirky smile, and the business-like professionalism of the Asian woman, whose smile never reached her eyes. And it was in the way the British man talked and talked and talked, and the way the other two managed him, with the ease of long practice. He wore button-front shirts buttoned up to the neck, but Jack didn't have to see the needle tracks to know what a user looked like. He saw people like that every day, dying by inches.
Jack didn't rock the boat, but the NYPD rocked his, and he wished he'd had a good long hit before going to see them one last time. He was sure he acted the same as he always did -- that was why the police had agreed to let him be part of the sting in exchange for a reduction in his sentence. He'd taken acting classes in high school, had a supporting role in a couple of school-wide productions, even.
But before Jack could say a thing, not even the small talk before the usual deal, the British man had jerked his head and said, "The police will be here in ten minutes." He'd only had a second to see the blonde woman's smirk turn ugly before he had a gun barrel pressed against his ear.
"Come now, Watson, there's no need of your services here," the British man said, and Jack watched, trembling, as he helped the Asian woman into her coat, as gently as a lover might, and the way she took his arm and they strolled from the room.
Jack shut his eyes. "Just a moment, darlings," the blonde called after them, dropping the New Jersey accent entirely, and then she fired.
Fandom: Elementary
Length: 560 words
Prompt: comment_fic: Elementary, Irene Adler/Joan Watson/Sherlock Holmes, AU where they’re all criminals
Pairing: slight Irene/Joan/Sherlock, mostly gen
Other: AU as per prompt. Violence, mention of drugs, and outsider POV.
Excerpt: Those three especially gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was something in the way they looked at each other, like they were sharing especially nasty secrets without saying a word. It was in the blonde's little quirky smile, and the business-like professionalism of the Asian woman, whose smile never reached her eyes. And it was in the way the British man talked and talked and talked, and the way the other two managed him, with the ease of long practice.
No one ever got to meet Moriarty. At least, no one that Jack met with answered to that name. He saw rotating lieutenants, most commonly three -- an antsy British man, a cool Asian-American woman, and a friendly blonde. He liked the blonde the best, and often wondered how she'd gotten mixed up in this mess. His part in it was drug production -- small fry, from what he'd heard on the streets about Moriarty and his gang. Moriarty himself -- or the group that called themselves that -- had his fingers in a lot of different pies, from trafficking to the mob to blackmail to murder, just to name a few.
He wasn't the kind of guy to ask questions, like why their operation had abruptly crossed the seas and come to New York, come to his backyard, where the bubbly blonde had asked him cheerful questions about his garden that became more and more pointed until he was sure it was a police sting -- but it wasn't.
"I represent a certain organization," the woman told him, "and we are interested..."
"Interested" was not the right word. He understood a threat when he heard it, veiled or not, even in her New Jersey drawl. He did what he was asked to do, provided a quality product and didn't skim. If he'd ever been the type of guy to sample his own wares, he would have stopped. Those three especially gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was something in the way they looked at each other, like they were sharing especially nasty secrets without saying a word. It was in the blonde's little quirky smile, and the business-like professionalism of the Asian woman, whose smile never reached her eyes. And it was in the way the British man talked and talked and talked, and the way the other two managed him, with the ease of long practice. He wore button-front shirts buttoned up to the neck, but Jack didn't have to see the needle tracks to know what a user looked like. He saw people like that every day, dying by inches.
Jack didn't rock the boat, but the NYPD rocked his, and he wished he'd had a good long hit before going to see them one last time. He was sure he acted the same as he always did -- that was why the police had agreed to let him be part of the sting in exchange for a reduction in his sentence. He'd taken acting classes in high school, had a supporting role in a couple of school-wide productions, even.
But before Jack could say a thing, not even the small talk before the usual deal, the British man had jerked his head and said, "The police will be here in ten minutes." He'd only had a second to see the blonde woman's smirk turn ugly before he had a gun barrel pressed against his ear.
"Come now, Watson, there's no need of your services here," the British man said, and Jack watched, trembling, as he helped the Asian woman into her coat, as gently as a lover might, and the way she took his arm and they strolled from the room.
Jack shut his eyes. "Just a moment, darlings," the blonde called after them, dropping the New Jersey accent entirely, and then she fired.