americas_son | (no subject)

Normally, Virginia would take that remark, connect it to Sherlock's name and what little else she knows about him (all from Tony, nothing from Obadiah), and tuck it away with everything else she makes note of for potential future reference.

Tonight, she doesn't care. She's running on empty and she still has to tell a pair of teenage boys that their guardian has been murdered before she gets to go back to the office and spend a few more hours fending off calls from panicked stockholders who don't want to believe what they've been told. (True, she's not technically Obadiah's assistant anymore, but no one will ever be able to accuse her of not seeing something through to the very end.) No sense wasting resources she doesn't have to begin with.

"Thank you," she says, stepping inside.

He had been planning to pretend innocence, of course, but looking at her, he can't subject her to any more of this.

"I also know why you are here," he says gently.

That takes Virginia by surprise.

"Do you?"

Has someone been here already? Everything has been so chaotic today, she supposes that's a possibility.

"You came to tell us that Obadiah Stane is dead."

She's fairly certain - no, she knows it hasn't hit the media yet. She can tell because her cellphone isn't constantly ringing.

"Yes," she says gently, "I did."

"Well, as you can see, I already know."

And he doesn't seem to be very affected by it. Then again, he doesn't seem the type to be very affected by anything much.

Virginia never exactly got the impression that Obadiah and Sherlock had a close relationship.

Which, she suspects, may have been for the best. ("He's very fond of Tony.")

Noting his choice of pronoun, she asks,

"And Tony knows?"

"Yes."

He has no intention of telling her how they found out, of course.

Virginia is simultaneously annoyed that no one could be bothered to mention any of this and save her the trip, relieved that she doesn't have to do it herself, and guilty about both.

"How's he doing?"

"Half wrecked and half relieved," he answers truthfully.

Abruptly, Virginia remembers last night's meeting with Jason Connolly. She hadn't forgotten about it exactly - the conversation had gotten odd at points, and while she'd hardly expected that either of them would be one hundred percent open with the other immediately, certain points have taken on an ominous cast in the light of today's events - but it hasn't been at the forefront of her mind.

The subject of Tony was one on which he hadn't held back, hadn't been able to hold back, and that they had talked about. Ways to work together to gather evidence, to put together an airtight case, because god knows it would have to be flawless to have even a chance of holding up against a man with Obadiah's power.

Now she wonders, again, just what he hadn't been saying.

He was on duty last night at Obadiah's apartment. The security tapes for the night are missing.

Considering the condition Obadiah was in, she should probably find those two facts more alarming than she does.

(She's too tired to keep much of it from ghosting across her face, sadness and resignation and suspicion. Too preoccupied to wonder why Sherlock is making such a remark so openly.)

She nods. "I'm going to be on duty for a while longer, if you two need anything. Just call Obadiah's office."

"Thank you," he says quietly. "If we need something, I will. Do you want a cup of tea or similar before you go?"

Jarvis is perfectly capable of shooing Cal out of the kitchen should it prove necessary.

"Yes," she decides before she can think about it. "That would be wonderful."

She desperately needs the break. Stark Industries won't explode if she takes an extra twenty minutes before she goes back.

"This way, then," he invites, turning back the way he came.

"Thank you," she says, following him down the hallway.

"It is the least I can do."

Now he just has to hope that Cal is willing to be shooed. That is a complication he does not need.

The kitchen is empty when they arrive, but Sherlock's former cup of tea has somehow managed to spill itself all over the counter. Oops.

He sighs and gets out a dishcloth to clean it up.

"What would you like?"

"Green tea, if you have it," Virginia answers. "If not, black is fine."

She takes a seat at the kitchen table, suppressing a sigh as she does so. She just spent an hour in a car, and much of the evening before that at her desk, but she still feels as if she hasn't had a chance to sit down all day.

"Green tea it is."

His ex-tea having been dealt with, he turns his attention to the kettle, then the cupboard.

"Thank you," Virginia says again.

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. "Think nothing of it."

"So who was it who got here before I did?" she asks.

Good question.

On the one hand, telling her probably wouldn't give her anything she doesn't already have. On the other hand, Jason Connolly did not know that Obadiah was dead, and Sherlock can hardly explain that he has invited the vampires who murdered the bastard into his home. There are not very many configurations of the available truths that she is likely to find palatable.

Well, be damned to her palate, then.

"No one official," he says lightly, "but I make it my business to know things."

Virginia's expression turns a bit wry. What else could she have expected?

"And how much did your mysterious source tell you?"