trashchildren | For Joan

"I never worked for Mannion, no," Harry answers. He pauses. "Though maybe don't mention my name if anyone asks you where you got these," he adds, gesturing to the documents on the table. It's not that they can't come up with a reasonable explanation for why he would have them and would be able to give them out, but he'd rather they didn't have to. "My friends are pretty good at making sure we don't get in trouble. Or, at least, getting us out of trouble."

"We never reveal our sources," Sherlock says. "Your secret is safe with us."

"I take it your friends do things like this all the time?" Joan queries. "Just in regards to your former firm? Or for other groups as well?"

"Not just my former firm," Harry answers. "Much like yourselves, we take on jobs where our skills are put to best use, whether it's because no one else can help, or there's particular deadline, or there's some kind of personal connection."

He sips his tea for a second, and nods approvingly at it. "One of my first jobs, we took down a casino owner who was evicting people from their family homes through a variety of illegal methods that it was very hard to catch him on. We got his license revoked, their people their houses back with the loans paid off, and got the neighborhood historical status. It's very rewarding work." He's not telling the story to brag - just to illustrate the kind of stuff they do, and why they do it.

Sherlock is duly impressed. He despises people who take advantage of others like that, ruining their lives for the sake of profit without a second thought.

"How do you come about your cases?" he asks. "Are you hired? Or do you spend time identifying situations where your services would be helpful?"

"Sometimes they contact us, yeah, but we don't take payment," Harry answers. "Sometimes we get tips from contacts, or one of the team members bring something. And Hardison has a computer program that looks specifically for stuff like that."

Again: another name that might be slightly mythical in the right circles, but this time as a hacker, not a thief.

Joan frowns faintly and looks at Sherlock. "Hardison...isn't that the hacker we worked with on that antiquities smuggling case?"

"The Babylonian tablets, yes," Sherlock says, still looking at Harry.

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Well, he could've mentioned that," he says, somewhere between exasparated and amused, sitting back in his chair and throwing up his hands. "Could've just told you guys I work with him." Ted smiles in amusement at that.

Admittedly Hardison is the one of the gang Harry knows the least, since he's often off with other teams. But it does not surprise him at all that he would neglect to mention this.

It also doesn't surprise him he worked on something to do with antiquties, since Hardison makes it a hobby of creating forgeries of stuff like that.

Joan smiles as well. Sherlock sort of half smiles, but his expression is a lot warmer now. It's not unusual in their lives for random people to show up on their doorstep asking for help or offering information or whatnot, and it's always better to have at least some way to connect them to people they know and/or have worked with in the past. Much less likely there's some secret ulterior motive or intention to harm them.

"You say you work with thieves and hackers," Sherlock notes. "What is it you do?"

"Well, the title they gave me is 'fixer'," Harry answers with a shrug and a smile. "Anything to do with law or bureaucracy or business is my specialty. Client meetings, often. Or things requiring... well, some legitimacy. The rest of the team can be... a bit eccentric." He definitely says this with a touch of fondness though. "I'm still sort of a newbie though, most of them have been working together for over a decade, doing this kind of thing."

"You're the 'face,'" Sherlock remarks. "You're conventionally attractive, wear a suit well, you have confidence and project authority. I imagine a cabal of thieves and hackers finds that quite useful."

Joan sighs and rolls her eyes. Come on, Sherlock.

"Pretty sure all that is meant to be a compliment," she says.

"I took it as one," Harry says to Joan with a smile. "Should perhaps be noted they're all experienced grifters, something I'm just beginning to practice myself, so it's not like they'd be lost without me." But the legitimacy comes naturally to him, as opposed to having to be put on.

Sherlock narrows his eyes, looking at Harry askance. "Considering your former legal profession, I suspect you were already quite experienced with grift, it being one of the tools of the trade, along with a penchant for making nonsense sound convincing and a convenient lack of a soul."

Joan rolls her eyes again and gives Harry an apologetic look. "That...was not meant to be a compliment," she says, shooting a glare at Sherlock.

"He's left the occupation, Watson," Sherlock points out. "And, it would seem, is using his powers for good."

"It's alright," Harry tells Joan. "He's not saying anything I haven't told myself." He'd kept his conscience clear for a long time saying he was impartial, until he realized that by doing so, he had already picked a side. It's not like Sherlock can hurt his feelings by saying something like that.

"Anyway, I meant more... theatrical aspects of it," he elaborates to Sherlock. "Being distractions. Playing a.. frantic husband in a yelling match with his wife. Or a clueless tourist having wandered into a restricted section. That kind of stuff."

"I see," Sherlock says. "Assuming such roles is a practice Watson and I are quite familiar with as well. At one point we were able to survey a suspect's home by telling him Watson was a world class security expert."

"That was a little more believable than the time you said I was a bodyguard with multiple black belts," Joan remarks dryly.

"You can hold your own in a fight," he says.

"Not the same thing."

Ted has been mostly sitting back and listening with the feeling that he has absolutely no idea what they're talking to, and feeling a little bit like he stumbled into a heist movie or something. The normal guy to everyone else's wackiness. While also being worried about Rupert and the trial and all that. So he hasn't tried to participate much.

At this point he feels a little bit more confident speaking up though. "I'd hire you as my body guard," he says with a smile, squeezing Joan's hand to get her attention.

Ted's statement warms Joan's heart, and she gives him a smile, then leans her head against his shoulder, squeezing his hand back.

"See?" Sherlock says. "Entirely believable."

"I mean, I've never seen you fight, so I can't comment on the black belt part.." he adds. "But you're probably better than me."

Ted could probably still perform a decent tackle (when he doesn't have a broken leg), but that's as far as his fighting skills go. He generally tries to avoid and defuse fights before they start.

"I should probably get going," Harry says, setting down his teacup and getting to his feet. He's taken up enough of their time.

"One of these days I'll teach you single stick," she promises. The antiquated and very British sport doesn't seem practical, but apply it to baton and it's extremely useful.

Sherlock gets to his feet as well. "I can show you out."

Joan lifts her head. "Thanks so much for this information. And please thank your friends, too."

Ted smiles at Joan - he'd like that. Mostly cause trying new things is fun, and if it's with Joan, it's doubly so. But it'll have to wait a little while. (Depending on how much single stick requires him to move his feet.)

"I will," Harry answers Joan, and shakes all of their hands, before heading for the door.

"Let me you know if you need me. I'll be following the trial even after I go back home," he says to Sherlock, gives him a smile, and then heads outside.

Across the street, partially hidden, is a buff man with long hair and a scowl. Once Harry exits, the guy starts following after him, having obviously been waiting for him. He crosses the street, catching up with Harry, and then... starts chatting with him as they walk. Obviously someone who was there to watch his back.

"We will. And please remember that should you be in need, we are at your service." When the man exits, Sherlock closes and locks the door behind him.

Back in the living room, Joan picks up one of the files from the table and begins flipping through it.

Ted looks at the files on the table... and decides almost immediately that he doesn't want to deal with that. It's unpleasant, and he doubts there would be much point to him helping.

"I'm gonna go make coffee," he says, leaning forward and giving Joan a kiss on the cheek before getting to his feet.

She smiles at the kiss and looks up at him, her expression a touch concerned. "Sherlock can do that if you don't want to be on your feet."

She doesn't want to boss him around, but she also doesn't want him to feel he has to push himself past what's good for him.

"No, that's okay," he reassures, touching her shoulder for a moment before grabbing his crutches (that he did at least have the foresight to bring with him). "I also just... You know, wanna let you get on with this stuff," he adds, gesturing at the table.

She smiles and touches his hand in return for that moment. "Okay," she says, understanding where he's coming from, knowing he'd rather not concentrate on the horrible things Rupert has done.

Sherlock returns and sits across from Watson. He picks up another file and begins looking through it as well.

Ted heads to the kitchen and makes himself coffee. He wonders if he's ever going to get used to the strange world Sherlock and Joan live in when it comes to their job. But then, thankfully he doesn't really have to. With the exception of what's happened lately, they've been just fine with keeping that stuff separate.

Once the coffee is made, he goes to stand in the doorway and look at them, deep in focus, and he smiles to himself. He doesn't need to understand it to admire the dedication.

So he grabs his coffee and one crutch, and he heads to the bedroom to set up the PS5 with the television in there, while they're busy.

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