The Consulting Detective

Chapter Three -- The Cracks in the Surface

I sighed and glanced at the time on my phone. The night prior, Sherlock had somehow acquired my number and we had a tiring conversation about where and when we would meet. We finally decided -- or rather, he decided and I gave up on arguing it -- on a cafe almost directly between our flats. It was barely a block away.

Now, I sat staring at the mug of sludge trying to pass as coffee in front of me, fingers curling into my hair. Even the man's text messages were arrogant and infuriating. I rubbed at my temples in a pointless attempt to quell my anger.

Greg was being ridiculously unfair about this. After Sherlock and John had left the Yard, we'd argued for what felt like hours as to why I needed to be babysat by the likes of them. "It's not babysitting!" Greg had argued, throwing his hands in the air as if he were dealing with a tantrum-prone child. "You need their help. Hell, I need their help, Rachel. And you need to learn to work with others before I can promote you."

That had finally shut me up. Between the collective brainpower of Sherlock, John and I, I was begrudgingly confident that we would find Dr. Manning within the week. And besides, what was a week of dealing with their attitudes if it meant a high standing at the Yard?

Stress was my forte, and at the moment, I was immersed in it.

The bell on the door chimed, and I looked up to see none other than Mr. Holmes come striding into the cafe, pulling his gloves from his hands and shoving them in his pocket. John Watson followed close behind, and I would have been lying if I had said I wasn't pleased to see him. His grey-blue eyes always held a sort of fatherly merit, and I was drawn to it, finding the remnants of my own father in his gaze.

Mr. Holmes, however, was a completely different story. His entire posture radiated arrogance. I had thought it bad the day before, but I realized it would only become worse the more people he was around. He thinks he's better than everyone, I realized, watching as he maneuvered through the tables, a detached and rather bored look sitting on his handsome features and drawing them into not-so-handsome lines.

"Mr. Holmes." I cleared my throat. He spotted me and nodded slightly. He and john made their way over to my table. Sherlock took a seat across from me, folding his hands in front of him. John, however, gave me a small smile and shook my hand. "John," I smiled in returned.

"Rachel," He said warmly, sitting beside a very bored-looking Sherlock. 'Right then, today, we were thinking that we would accompany you to the Manning household."

I contained a sigh. Be nice, Rachel. Forcing a small smile, I nodded. "It's about a half hour from here. We can take my car?"

Sherlock made a small noise in the back of his throat. "If we must." His smile was tight and forced, but at least he wasn't protesting. I nodded, returning the smile.

"Mrs. Manning and her children have taken up residence with a family member for the time-being." Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on the table and directed my attention toward John, hoping to have a conversation with an actual human. "What we're going to be looking for is some sign that he may have been meeting someone when he left home. Dr. Manning is quite the popular man in the medical field; several pharmaceutical companies have been hounding his office for weeks."

John leaned forward as well, brow furrowed. "So, what if someone gave him an offer he couldn't resist? Lured him out of the house, then snatched him up. Bingo, the cure for cancer is in your hands."

I smiled. "Exactly. We're going to need his emails, old mail, trash, anything we can get our hands on." Turning my gaze to Sherlock, I raised a brow. "Sound like a plan?"

Sherlock stopped picking at his cuticles and stared at me with a bored expression. "Hmm? Oh, yes, it sounds lovely." His smile was irritating. "While we're at it, maybe we could stop for tea and cakes with the queen, or-"

I slammed my hand against the table, attracting more than a few curious glances. "Damn it, I'm trying to be civil. Really, I am. But I'm not going to let you bully or belittle me on my own damned case." Directing a finger at Sherlock, I pulled at the angry energy building up in me and let it guide me; at least he was being quiet. "You will play nice, because I am not your enemy and you're wasting my time with your childish antics."

My tirade finished, I calmly folded my hands in my lap and waited for a reaction.

Sherlock pursed his lips for a moment, and out of the corner of my eye I saw John's Adam's apple bob nervously. I had no reason to be afraid of Sherlock, however, and silently wondered if John's behavior only encouraged Sherlock to be a brat.

Finally, Sherlock cleared his throat. "Let's get going then, shall we?"

Though I didn't show my glee on the surface, I knew that I just made a major gain with Sherlock. I smiled and stood, sliding my arms into my coat. "Let's."