if_inconvenient | (no subject)

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After a very inconclusive day and a rather more informative conversation with Jarvis, Sherlock is lying in his hotel bed with his fingertips together, staring at the ceiling. It is no longer a conscious imitation of the classic pose; over the years he has made it his own.

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"So I heard."

Need he say he approves?

Cal smiles as he slides a cigarette out of its pack.

"He never even saw it coming. He thought I was gonna be all deer in headlights again."

"You are magnificent."

That is such a Sherlock thing to say. Cal's smile turns into a grin, though, and he suddenly feels a lot better about the events of the afternoon.

"I am, aren't I?"

"Entirely."

Cal lights up, taking a moment to be pleased with himself. It felt good to blow Stane out of the water like that, and to do it knowing that he can follow through on his threats if he has to.

Which, of course - he turns more serious, saying,

"But I don't know if he really took me seriously. I might've just pissed him off. I mean, I've got it covered, but."

But there's no guarantee, is there?

"Of course he didn't take you seriously. He's Obadiah bloody Stane and he seems to think the human brain exists in some kind of pre-conscious larval state until the age of twenty or so. But if you did, in fact, just piss him off, I rather think that between us we can handle him."

"Of course we can."

There's a desk in Cal's room now, one he actually uses sometimes. He sits down at it to use the ashtray.

"He tried threatening you again."

"And how did that turn out?"

"I called him ridiculous."

Cal takes a drag from his cigarette.

"I don't know how he thinks that would go, anyway."

He realizes the next logical step in the chain of threats, of course, if Stane did take his bullshit to Sherlock, but he also assumes Sherlock would be more than capable of neutralizing it.

"I suspect he realizes it would end with him dead or in prison, which is why he will never try it."

Sherlock is vaguely aware that there is something wrong with how funny he finds that whole prospect, but he sees no need to observe such conventions.

"Right," Cal says.

As if there would be any other options.

"Too bad for him I figured that out."

"Quite."

"So. That won't work."

Cal frowns slightly, and continues,

"And I'm having breakfast with Tony again tomorrow, so he knows I'm not going to just fade into the background while he's here, either."

"Thank you."

He sighs.

"And of course Tony hasn't a clue about any of it."

"No."

Cal echoes Sherlock's sigh.

"I still don't get that. I mean. Stane isn't as subtle as he thinks he is. And I don't think he's even trying to be subtle sometimes."

A couple of the looks he'd given Cal - if Tony had glanced over at the wrong moment, not even he could have misinterpreted that.

Or so Cal would like to think.

"The perils of sentimentality."

"Yeah."

Cal ashes his cigarette, takes another drag.

You can ignore a lot of bullshit from someone that important to you.

Stane could get away with a lot more than he tries, with Tony. Cal's sure of that.

(It isn't (http://americas-son.livejournal.com/2159.html?thread=325743#t325743) that easy, is it?)

(And it's been a long time since Cal even liked his uncle.)

"Fuck. Well. It works out pretty good for us, too, anyway."

"For now, yes."

"Yeah," Cal says again.

". . . no offense, but I really hope that doesn't change till after you get back."

That is not something Cal wants to have to deal with, even if that does mean dumping it on Sherlock instead. That much, at least, is Sherlock's job, and should stay that way.

"None taken. So do I."

"He's pretty big on making sure Tony thinks he's the best thing ever, though, I don't see why that would change in the next few days."

Cal knows Sherlock knows that. He doesn't need to say it out loud.

He just - he really didn't like leaving Tony alone with Stane. Knowing something with your brain doesn't always mean the rest of you believes it.

Tell that to Sherlock Holmes.

"Neither do I. I expect things will remain quiet."

"Yeah."

Another puff from the cigarette.

"I told him to go for a walk at midnight, maybe he'll take me up on it."

One can always hope.

He can't help it; he laughs.