#tigerwithasniper

Joan usually woked alone. No one suspected the small blonde to be anything more than that. Dimwitted and a pretty face. She used it to her advantage. But at 24, she had speedily gotten her doctorate and a year later joined the army. Which was fine for the first few months, but she craved more. And she found it in the form of being a hired gun. And she discovered she was damn good at it. 

So when her employer insisted she take a partner on this job she wasn’t terribly happy about it. But she wanted the job. She had a reputation to uphold as Three Contients Watson. 

The small blonde settled into a back booth of the coffee shop on the outskirts of London she had been told to come to. She waited. In her purse was a flashdrive containing all the information on the job. They needed to go undercover and gain intell from a German diplomat and then dispose of him the day after. It would be clean and simple. Or, she imagined as much. 

tagging: @smartass-telepath @infitixlis @magnetiisch and anyone who wants to ^^

rules: using only the song titles from one artist, cleverly answer these questions. tag ten people at the end!

||★|| It doesn’t matter how well-to-do a bar is, John thinks. They all have that same stale, lingering smell. The counter tops, though somewhat clean, are still sticky and there’s always a suspect wad of dried gum stuck to the underside edge awaiting to ruin someone’s gladrags. 

This particular bar really takes the biscuit though and John is already regretting his semi-intoxicated decision. Sherlock would love this. He wagers there’s a cadaver in the backroom somewhere, lipstick smeared and cocaine tongued - okay maybe he’s being hanging out with the detective too much. He snorts to himself and turns to the nearest breathing person, who happens to look like he may be responsible for a murder or two actually.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!