Come at me (Sherlock/Casual )

[MONA LISA DRAGOTI]

Mona sat in her small office, with her small desk, and small chair and waited for her appointment. She looked over her small tidy office and brushed off the invisible dust that rested on it. Mona had absolutely nothing to do while waiting for Mr. Homes. She had already read why he was coming to her in the first place. He had gotten in trouble with the police. It seemed that his bad attitude and rude mouth got him in a mess with some officers that he needed to get out of.

Mona was that out.

Many people who mouthed off to the police got sent to therapist. And Mona being the bottom of the food chain when it came to the sea of therapists. She got all of the cases no one wanted , and Holmes was a case that had been given to her straight away. He was apparently someone that many people knew was rude and hateful towards certain people and things.

All Mona had to say, to quote the modern world ,"Come at me bro"

Mona knew all about rude people, she worked with them everyday. If she couldn't handle one person then what good would she be for the rest of the world. The whole reason she was working here in this stupid firm was so that eventually she could start her own office and help everyone she could. It would take hard work and determination , but that was Mona's name.

Mona sat and grabbed her coffee, an addiction of hers that she couldn't get rid of, and waited for Holmes. She was glad that he would hopefully be a challenge.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Typing furiously on his trusty Blackberry, Sherlock strode into the office.
If one were to observe, they would note the exact emotions behind the way he walked into the room, the obviously bored expression on his face and maybe even the flutter of that dramatic coat. And from that they would be able to come to one definite conclusion.

The man who had just entered the therapist's office was frequently a very busy one, as proved by his intense focus on the mobile screen. His 'bored expression' would explain that he was obviously not there by choice, and found the idea of therapist rather dull. And even the dramatic coat hinted at a slight vain-ness to the man's personality.
Or perhaps it was only Sherlock Holmes who was able to do that.

Within the first four strides, however, the detective broke his attention of the phone, converting it to the woman currently sat in the room. Obviously the therapist.
Arching an eyebrow before half-falling into a seat, Holmes folded his arms neatly in front of his chest. And, staring with piercingly sharp eyes, allowed his analytical mind to whir.

If not dull, a therapist would prove to be quite a challenge.

[MONA LISA DRAGOTI]

Mona looked at the man who strode into her office. Not walked , strode like he owned the damn place. Him and his blackberry, which him seemed to be glued to his quick fingers. Mona watched him as he looked up at her and kept her face perfectly neutral. She didn't know how to react to this man yet, He was obviously not happy to be here, like herself. He looked bored and as if she wasn't worth the time he was using sitting there. Well Mona didn't really want to be here either, she had way more better things to do then to sit and try and deal with a stubborn man who couldn't stay with good grace with the police. It was quite easy for most people, so it shouldn't be hard for this man.

Mona's eyebrow arched slightly as she watched him almost fall back into his seat. She almost rolled her eyes at his dramatics, really it wasn't as if she was a demon going to suck his soul out. He got both of them into this mess, and the only way to get out of it was for him to act like a big boy and sit there for their session. The man was almost twice her age, if she could do it then it should be no problem for him.

Mona stared at him, waiting to see if he would make the first move. Mona didn't like to make the first move in anything she did. The few times in life where she did ended up blowing up in her face. But he seemed to just sit there staring at her. It was like a game that hadn't started. They were just waiting for the first person to move their piece.

Mona took a drink of her coffee and set if back gentle while she stared at him. She sighed quietly before deciding to forth it and move the first piece.

"Mr. Holmes, I am Monica Dragoti. I have been assigned to be your therapist. Why don't you tell me what you did to but us both in this situation?" She asked as politely as she could, her normal smile that she plastered on her face, was not there.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

The meeting started as a game. A slow, silent challenge of 'Your turn' as they both sat in the small office. Shifting a little, Sherlock crossed one leg over the other, though still not breaking eye contact - He observed as much as he thought necessary. And came to the conclusion that it was not her joy to be there no more than his.

At least it wasn't completely dull.

Staring until she talked (it was like a game of chess, one waiting for the other to move; Sherlock Holmes was remarkably good at chess), he tilted his head to the side, deep in thought.

But when the question was finally asked, Sherlock seemed to snap away from whatever internal ponder had captivated his attention (therapists were an unusual bunch). Unable to suppress a slight twitch of his lips, Sherlock briefly explained the situation.

"I guess you already know, but of course asking me to explain it is just to confirm your theories, correct?" He didn't bother even checking - or stopping, for that matter - to see if he was correct. It was just a shot in the dark, but guided by a well-known technique of therapists.
"Very well. It seems a few of my experiments are disapproved of." Spitting out the word with a slightly snobbish air, Sherlock felt no need to continue further. Except to add his personal opinion.
"Though I really don't see the big deal. They were only body parts." He said this as if it were painstakingly obvious, and physically hurt to have to point it out.

[MONA LISA DRAGOTI]

Mona decided that this man was very strange, very strange indeed. Most people when they spoke of body parts they held an air of disgust. It seemed that Holmes did not express that disgust. He simply thought that it was a big deal. Mona felt a slight, sharp pain hit behind her head. She hadn't slept in about 36 hours thanks to the extra work she had to do, and dealing with this confusing man was not keeping away the headache.

Mona rolled her eyes and leaned forward so her arms rested on her desk. Her fingers intertwined together. She looked at Mr. Holmes.

He doesn't look like a killer, nor did he act or sound like one. He just seemed like a man that merely wanted to have his body parts back. That was completely normal, everyone had those moments.

Mona almost laughed at the sarcasm in her own voice.

"Mr. Holmes, I don't know how England reacts to you carrying dead body parts around, but here its frowned upon by some people." Mona leaned back in her uncomfortable chair. It was a horrible office, the smallest one with no windows and no room to truly walk around. It was because she was the youngest. Mona's age had always been a cripple on her future career, but she was to smart and to insightful for people to turn her down.

"Quite honestly, I don't think your crazy, well not completely at least. I don't think you've killed the body, that you brought with you, because your mannerisms and obvious behaviors don't say killer. But we have about 2 more hours to get through thanks to the court of law. So I'm going to ask you some questions if that alright."

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together at her comment. England never reacted to his experiments, mainly because England did not know of them. They were usually kept within the confinements of his flat, anyway, but moving to America had not been important enough for him to simply drop an experiment.

So he took it with him.

And there was nothing wrong with that, people took their belongings with them all of the time.

He was broken from train of thought by yet another pointless observation on the therapist's part. Arching an eyebrow in response, this time is was a barely-suppressed smirk on his lips as he spoke.
"Of course I didn't kill the man." Supporting this with an eye-roll, because it was obvious, of course, Sherlock shifted in the seat. He quietened, however, and waved a gloved hand, signalling her to go on.
Realising that it was most definitely going to be a very long two hours, the detective sunk back into the seat with an almost inaudible mutter of something-along-the-lines-of: 'Dull.'

[MONA LISA DRAGOTI]

"What in the hell were you thinking?"

Mona didn't usually burst out at her appointments, but seeing as the formal part of the interview was over, and now it was just wasting time, Mona felt like the formality didn't apply. Really she just wanted to see how his mind worked. Where did he figure that bring dead body parts would be something good.

"If you wanted to bring your dead body over why didn't you just ship it over? Bringing it over with you on the plane would just get you in more trouble."

Mona kept her eyes on his as she kept talking. Mona like eye contact, it was harder for people not answer that way. Mona like straight answers that kept to the point. It got to the truth faster. And since Sherlock was no longer a suspect killer, there was no reason to be gentle.

"And why did you bring up the man's past just to piss him off?"

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

The smirk still firmly in place, Sherlock shuffled in the seat again (it really was a rather uncomfortable chair). Resting his elbows on the armrests and steepling his fingers below his chin, Holmes seemed to immediately gain a look of analytical intellect.

Finally.

"What I was thinking is hardly a puzzle." He dismissed the question airily, placing an unspoken obviousness in answer.
"It's not a dead body. It's an experiment." He sighed heavily as he spoke the last word. Surely he had made that clear by now? "And shipping a few eyes would take far much more time than I was willing to give." He didn't bother to mention to other included body parts.

As to how he had succeeded in transporting the luggage into the country in the first place was all down to a few strings.
He hated strings.
Getting through England's security was all good and well, but it seemed that Sherlock's plan had ended before the plane had reached the Atlantic, and he had no way of getting through the airport at New York.
Another reminder of why he hated strings so much. Not enough could lead to unfortunate news.

But the last question Holmes simply shrugged away, keeping his pale eyes locked on hers.
"He was making a mockery of me."

That was continued by a silence on Sherlock's part, as he glanced toward the ceiling, wondering just how much time was left.
"It's a shame." He began, choosing his words slowly, carefully. "You could be rather good. Even if the others don't think so."
Therapists.
To Sherlock Holmes, Mona's thoughts were etched across her face in yellow pen.

[MONA LISA DRAGOTI]

Mona was slightly disgruntled on how easy her thoughts were readable by this man. but she didn't let that turn her thoughts away. she just rolled with the punches and nodded.

"You are wrong Mr. Holmes, I am a damn good therapist to those who need it. And they all know it. They only thing keeping me in this small office, getting crap cases, is my age."

Mona stared off at a wall while thinking. If she got parents permission then she could try and appeal for a better office. But since her parents thought of her now as a monster, there was no chance in that happening.

She tapped lightly on her desk as she thought about the people who worked only one floor above her, the place she needed to be yet was stuck below on the sea floor. It was for the better she guessed. She had work from school and the hospital that she had to do. any more cases and she could actually drown in it.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Dismissing this with yet another casual wave, Sherlock gazed around the room, taking everything into account.
"Oh yes. How silly of me to not notice. It's your age." His eyes began to shine as if the man found something amusing, not at all bothered how obviously the sarcasm lay in his voice.

"Which is also why the conversation has veered far from the track. Correct?"
Sherlock smiled his self-satisfied smile, fingers still steepled below his chin as if deep in thought. A common pose amongst therapists.

Oh how un-dull it had turned out to be.

If there was to be anybody else hiding in the corners of the room (though due to the unfair size, either Sherlock or Mona would have noticed them), they would perhaps become a little confused. Mainly in how Sherlock had seemed to reverse the roles.
He watched with sparkling eyes as she began to tap the desk.
Therapists.

[MONA LISA DRAGOTI]

Mona decided that Mr. Holmes was not her favorite person ever. He was to insight for for her own good. She didn't like the way that he saw through her. She wasn't used to people being able to see all her secrets and thoughts. It was unsettling and made her very, very uncomfortable. She hated the thought that someone could see right into her mind, she had too many things to hide. Too many secrets that she could never unfold.

Mona wanted to glare and say harsh words to this man, but she could not. It just wasn't her way of doing most things. there were few people that she let see her anger and Mr. Holmes would not be one of them.

"Would you rather go back to the topic of your sociopath tendencies, Mr. Holmes?" Mona asked in a quiet voice.

She hoped he said yes, it would make this meeting so much more pleasurable then if he switched to trying to find out about her. She hated to talk about herself, mostly because she just didn't like herself. She pushed off an act of confidence around her co workers, but truly she was lying to the whole world.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Sherlock sighed, closing his eyes briefly in disappointment. He had (for a change) higher expectations of the therapist. She most obviously wasn’t like the others in many more ways than one. But, of course, that had plummeted back to ground level when she took it upon herself to attempt to revert the conversation back to it’s original flow line.

As he had previously said, it was shame.

Waving a dismissive hand again (which probably meant something along the lines of ‘you-go-ahead-because-quite-frankly-I’m-not-bothered-in-the-slightest’) before folding his arms to his chest, Sherlock decided to keep his eyes shut. The small room was doing little to help his mind, and seemed to, in fact, slow him down. If just a little. It was so… dull.
No wonder his expectations had been inaccurate.

[MONA LISA DRAGOTI]

Mona shook her head slowly.

"A rhetorical question Mr. Holmes, you were not meant to answer."

Mona put her face into her hands and let out a long sigh. She didn't know what to do with this man and his clearly intelligent mind. She could give him a piece of paper and let him color on it like he was 5. She had nothing to do to entertain him with. Hell she didn't even have anything to entertain herself with. But they were stuck there till the time was up. She let out a sigh and looked up at the man that sat in the chair in front of her.

"You may ask me questions if you wish Mr. Homes."

Mona almost regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. What was she doing? Giving someone else power to ask her questions. What was wrong with her?

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Sherlock almost smiled. A true smile. Almost. But even that was an achievement for the sociopath. Perhaps he just liked to test the limits, or perhaps the almost-real-smile was simply for his victory.
Rolling his eyes, Holmes answered the therapist with an hint of 'why are people so idiotic nowadays?' laying in his voice. It was a statement that he felt needed little explaining. But then again, many people just didn't think like Sherlock Holmes.

"There are very few questions which will grant me information I do not already know, Miss Dragoti." He spoke with a bored tone, obviously finding nothing of interest in the dull room. It's lack of windows did not help with the matter.
Holmes could almost feel his brain slowing down, most likely due to the uninspiring office. But then again, the detective could never function quite right in the prescence of therapists. They had a rather peculiar ability to dull the atmosphere.

"But I do have one. Do you think that only being in the prescence of a therapist for two hours would be enough needed to be classed as a session? Because I must say, this room is having a rather unfortunate effect on my concentration."

[MONA LISA DRAGOTI]

Mona gave Sherlock a smile, a true one that made her face almost light up. It was rare that anyone could really amuse her. She often didn't find things very funny, but that could be because she just didn't find much funny in the world. She was very somber for a teenage girl, she didn't like to shop of go to clubs. Truly all she wanted was to become a full therapist and sleep in her bed. Some found it strange for her to be so dedicated to her work, but she found it awarding.

"Mr. Holmes I can assure you that being stuck in this room for 2 hours with you is not a joy ride for me either. I'd much rather be studying or at the hospital. But instead of the hour session that most people are put through, the judge has required that you have double that. "

Mona cocked her head to the side to look at him and kept her eyes in contact with his, "Now I am sitting her wondering what you could of done or said to someone to get you stuck here with me instead of one of the "better" ", Mona said the word with a deep hatred, "therapists? They have large offices with windows and seats that someone other then a five year old can fit in. "