Therapy (Sherlock BBC Fanfic)

January 5th, 19:48

Current Mood: giggly

Current Music: snow patrol

It is very disconcerting to be sitting in your own private space, completing some small, routine task only to look up and realise that you are no longer alone.

It doesn't even have to be something personal that you're doing, it could be office work, filing, eating your lunch - just the fact that you are alone one minute and then suddenly being observed the next can be enough to put anyone off their stride; especially when the two men observing you are glaring at you with all the venom of men who suspect you of a long list of heinous crimes.

She's been a therapist for quite a while now; taking private patients only, so having hostility aimed her way is not something that is unusual. She's only just started taking patients for the Armed Services - carefully selected ones that are not likely to turn violent on her, no matter what their records show they have done - but these two surpass even the contained violence she's sensed in those patients.

"Don't bother calling your receptionist," the shorter of the two informs her in a crisp tone, "He's gone to lunch."

The shorter of the two is the eldest man there - both are dressed in clean, well tailored suits, but he is wearing the full three pieces with an old fashioned air that is actually very commanding. He is heavier in weight than the tall man at his shoulder and both sport curly dark hair, though the elder wears his cut and styled closer than his young companion. He leans on an umbrella with insolent style, looking down on her as if she was somehow subordinate to him. She's trained to deal with such obvious intimidation, though it is something of a struggle to remain impassive and calm.

The younger of the two is slightly taller, thinner and has an energy about him that is barely contained. At the moment he is glaring at her with all the fury of a man who has seen a loved one hurt or damaged in some way. Of the two, he is the one to watch, because the older one is in love with his power and importance, but the younger is just in love, which makes him difficult to predict.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asks in a clear voice, waving them to seats opposite her desk, though none of them expect the offer to be taken up. Better to go through the motions, though; to show that she isn't intimidated by their obvious tactics.

"You have a patient by the name of John Watson," the older one speaks in a soft drawl that is supposed to add to his air of superiority. She raises an eyebrow at him and folds her hands on her desk, an action that the two men seem to take as some sort of sign because the younger one snorts under his breath while the older raises an eyebrow.

"I don't discuss my patients with outsiders, gentlemen, certainly not with outsiders who have arrived without an appointment and let themselves in," she smiles politely. Inwardly her mind races. This particular patient has just experienced a rather severe flashback episode, in which his actions created a very real danger to those around him. He had been in a near panic - showing more emotion than she'd ever seen from him - and she had prescribed a sedative and mood stabiliser for him as a result of their latest session. She was planning to call him for a follow-up appointment later that week, as well as reporting the situation to the relevant authorities.

"I don't wish to discuss him either," the younger snaps, but quietens when the elder holds up a hand for patience.

"We are not here for a discussion," the elder confirms, "We're here to inform you that you are no longer his doctor. He will no longer be requiring your services."

"Or your drugs," the defiant murmur from behind the debonair shoulder was accompanied by a glare of such loathing that it took all her will power not to lean back in her chair at the impact of it.

"That is not for you to decide," she defended her patient, "The gentleman in question is the only one that can dissolve our professional association."

"In addition, your contract to attend to military patients has been suspended, pending an official review," the shorter man spoke as if she hadn't, "I am not at all pleased with the level of expertise you bring to their care; certainly you've failed with Dr Watson's. You'll be receiving formal notification in writing this afternoon. I suggest you have the relevant files ready for inspection as soon as possible. Consider our little visit to be... forewarning."

Before she could marshal her thoughts, or an argument, the two unexpected visitors turned and headed for the door. It clicked shut quietly behind them and her office was once again as it had been five minutes ago. There was nothing to mark their passage or prove their existence.

At least, not until her receptionist came in with a letter two hours later, informing her that her contract with the military had been suspended.


Disclaimer - Characters and settings as depicted in the BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.

AN - set as an additional story to 'Very Very Frightening'