Unforseen Heresy

Dark hearts

Joan Watson prided herself on order despite the common disorder that living with Sherlock Holmes entailed. She ignored the fact that she now never left the house unarmed in one way or another. Ignored the fact that she still wore her tags beneath her clothing, just in case.

War and her service didn't create this Joan that craved semi-organized chaos that leant to her own favor. The battlefield had only reestablished the woman, refining her potential and ability to be a soldier. Her calm amongst calamity could never be disputed unless she lost patience with incompetent assistants within her makeshift emergency room whilst attempting to keep her men alive.

None would ever guess that the short woman had been into war let alone secured her Captain position without sleeping her way up the ranks. She was just attractive enough to do so. Joan, John to those within her brigade, never allowed her to forget what she looked like, or what she was as a woman.

Despite having close shorn hair during her service, others had complemented its ashen blonde hue, more as it had grown slightly during the years that she spent being too busy to cut it again.

Her eyes were striking, not just in their shade, but in the composition that allowed her to hold the gazes of men who thought her lesser. To not only hold their gazes, but to frighten them into submission.

Anyone who knew John, knew Joan, but never the opposite. She had such control over her composure that John wasn't present unless completely necessary.

Even when strapped to Semtex by her sociopathic flatmate's fanboy, John was held at arm's length.

It wouldn't be proper to allow the most war ridden part of herself free- that dark side frightened her more than Moriarty ever could.

- --

The consulting criminal seethed whilst watching Sherlock glide from location to location, his fierce bitch following close behind. The woman was bland, her potential capacity didn't exceed becoming a pet for either of the geniuses.

She was plain in her appearance, nothing exciting about her wavy hair that was almost always in a bun one way or another. Her complexion was slightly tanned despite the dampened chill that lingered in the English air. The only feature upon the doctor's face specifically that was quite intriguing were her eyes, pale jasper gems that were hard yet soft at the same time.

Although she wasn't meant to be part of the game, she now was. Platonic or not, Sherlock's heart was to be destroyed.