The Courtesan (Johnlock-Historical)

Chapter 1

John stepped out of the hansom cab, pulling out the paper from his breast pocket, squinting at the address in horrible doctor scrawl on it.

"Are you sure this is the place?" John peered up at the cabbie. "122 Kebar St?"

The cabbie nodded, pointing to large, wrought iron gates, before urging his horse to trot on.

Sighing, John straightened his suit jacket, and headed towards the open entrance. There was a long stretch of gravel leading up to the grand building beyond.

As he walked, John took in the manicured gardens, full of trimmed hedges and flowerbeds. At the end of the lane, there was a circular fountain, water spouting ten feet into the air.

The building was golden sandstone, with wide steps leading to stained glass doors. John felt small and insignificant, standing in front of such grandeur after he knocked. What had Mike gotten him into?

The door eventually opened, a doorman in a dark grey uniform giving John an inquiring look.

"Good day. My name is Dr. Watson. I have an appointment to see a Mr....um..." The name slipped his memory, and John fumbled to pull out the letter from Mike. "...Mr. Lestrade," John read out, and then pushed the worn paper back into his pocket.

The young man nodded, opening the door wider to allow John to enter. The foyer was huge, a leaded glass dome arching overhead and letting in plenty of light. Staircases swooped up each side of the large space, and elaborate silk tapestries hung on the walls. John had to pull his eyes away from the beautiful decor to follow the doorman.

Walking quickly deep into the house, the man stopped at a wooden door, knocking on it sharply. A voice inside called out in acknowledgement, and the doorman waved John inside.

A handsome man with salt and pepper hair stood up from his desk, walking around it to shake John's hand. "Greg Lestrade. I'm the business manager here."

John shook his hand and introduced himself, taking a seat in front of the desk.

"We may as well get started. A colleague may enter later on." Lestrade gathered some papers, moving them to the side. "Dr. Stamford highly recommends you, Dr. Watson."

John nodded, feeling nervous. He really needed this job.

Lestrade gave John a direct look, his dark eyes assessing. "So, do you know what type of business this is?"

Furrowing his brow slightly, John tried to remember if Mike had mentioned it in the letter. He had only mentioned it was a thriving business that needed a live-in doctor. "Sorry, Dr. Stamford failed to give me those details."

"Well, I will tell you, and I want you to seriously consider if the nature of the business goes against your morals or beliefs. I will understand if you want to stop the interview and leave." Lestrade tapped a pen against his papers. "This is a brothel."

John's eyebrows rose, and he struggled to get his mind around the idea. The beautiful grounds and huge mansion clashed strongly with it. "A - a brothel?"

Lestrade nodded. "A high end one, of course. Only the most elite people can afford to come here."

"And you need a doctor for..." John blinked, his brain still seeming sluggish, dealing with all this.

The door opened and a tall, slim man slipped in, closing the door behind him. He nodded at Lestrade and took the chair off to the side of the desk, facing towards John.

"Sherlock, glad you could make it," Lestrade said, turning his head to address the man.

Sherlock was dressed in a well-tailored black suit, and he appeared to be several years younger than John. His hair was dark, and his eyes seemed quite light. John felt pinned under his inquisitive gaze. But his attention was pulled back to Lestrade when he continued talking.