if_inconvenient | (no subject)

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Conversations with Mr Mayer are always so delightful. Sherlock returns home happier than he left, just like last time, resolves to look into that fellow's collection of mysteries—just like last time—and reluctantly shelves the project in favour of more pressing matters. Just like last time.

At least, on this iteration, the pressing matters are much more pleasant. Cal should be arriving any minute now.

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"- She is?"

Really?

He's heard all about how competent she is, but - really?

"Why so astonished?"

"She's a personal assistant," Cal points out.

"She pays attention."

"She's not exactly qualified."

Cal, ever a Chandler, is already thinking about the publicity.

He doesn't think it's going to be the good kind.

"She is the second most qualified person in the world, and Tony has other commitments."

"The press is going to eat her for breakfast."

At least Tony, young though he is, stepping in made some kind of sense. But this?

"Tony too."

"And how do we prevent that?"

Lend your expertise, Mr Chandler.

"We don't turn a personal assistant into a CEO?" Cal suggests.

He thinks.

Sherlock waits.

"He's looking to plug the power gap with someone he trusts," Cal says slowly, "working toward the company's longterm interests by completing his education. She's a stopgap, it'll be a rough few years - set expectations low so that if she exceeds them, it looks like a good choice, if she doesn't, it looks less like a failure. Don't set her up to look like a failure.

"Personal assistant thing's an asset, especially since she worked for Stane. She knows everything Tony knows and everything Stane knew. Gives her an edge over a neutral third party, and Tony needs someone who isn't gonna make a power grab."

She taps his fingers on his thigh. "She'll have to do an interview. Can she do one? She'll have to. Just one, so it doesn't look like she's wasting her time, but she'll have to make herself look ready for the challenge. Nobody like fucking Oprah, either, nobody girly or who might go easy on her. Something serious that most people'll get bored with in about thirty seconds."

He shrugs.

"And you'll still be fucked. But the company might last till Tony graduates."

"She can do an interview," Sherlock affirms. "I'll advise Tony. Thank you."

Cal smiles a little, wry.

"No problem."

"If you have any other brilliant insights to offer as events unfold, do let me know. This is hardly my area of expertise."

"Oh, I'll let you know." Just try and stop him.

He laughs.

"Maybe I'll be Stark Industries' publicist when I grow up."

"Tempting. Don't say it to Tony or he'll hire you on the spot."

"I already practically am," Cal says. "I could at least get paid for it."

"Then do say it to Tony, and he will."

Cal laughs again.

"Mother would love that."

"Would she really."

His lips twitch.

"'Publicity is such a vulgar field, Cal. You know we keep that sort of thing strictly inside the family.'"

His impression of her inflections and mannerisms is pretty decent.

"Oh, very nice. Better than I could manage," he compliments.

"Well, I have lived with her all my life," Cal says, but he smiles.

"What's it like?" he asks, before he can stop himself.

Cal blinks at him, thrown by the abrupt mental whiplash.

(Shouldn't he be used to that by now?)

(Did Watson ever get used to it?)

"- What?"