Comedian Sherlock was not, and his attempt at a joke had fallen quite flat with Watson. Quite literally made at his expense, the poor soul now was going to have to save up for another few months before he could accrue the same wealth, and then he'd only be back where he had started. His savings were meant to be for a vacation of sorts, just a few days to get away from the hustle and bustle, let his mind be at ease for a short while. Being around Holmes so much was akin almost to being dependent on a drug; for short periods it was fairly great, and then were these massive down times where you just dragged your feet, bashed your head against the wall and prayed for the high to come back. Maybe that was a bit of a harsh analogy, but sometimes sticking by the detective's side could prove to be quite difficult, especially when he went on one of his tirades. "Yes, but a bird is best let to fly in safe conditions, not into the mouth of its predator," Watson retorted sharply, narrowing his eyes over at his friend, "Honestly Holmes... I took a long time to save that money, you should be glad I didn't try to make you repay me."

The ride out to their destination had proven to be less enjoyable than Watson might have hoped. Though the carriage driver was alone he spoke with himself constantly, almost sounding as though he were drunk what with his slurred speech. On more than one occasion he tried to strike up conversation with his passengers, and out of effort to simply try and be polite Watson had responded, wishing quite soon he had not. By the time the manor had come into view he knew quite a lot of information about their escort, perhaps a bit too much; where he was born, his children's names, his wife's name, his dreams, his favorite drink, all information that he would just as soon extract from his memory and flush down the drain. A blessing in disguise would appear in the form of the two gates, and the carriage only took them as far as midway before coming to a stop, letting them out near enough to the entrance. From where they stood now Watson could see two women before them, one dressed moderately yet elegantly and the other a little flashy for his tastes, bearing a bright red dress. Were these their clients, then?

"The carriage might be slowed by the weather, keep that in mind Mary. But fret not, they will be here," Irene repeated, offering a smile as she placed a hand on her friend's arm, "If there is one thing my friend is, it's stubborn. It could be another great flood and he would find a way to us, so be certain this small storm isn't going to keep him for long." No sooner had she said that did a carriage's silhouette make itself visible in the rain, the sound of hooves clattering against cobblestone signaling its arrival. Smiling beneath her wide-brimmed, straw hat she watched as the vehicle drew nearer, stopping just shy of the entryway as two men climbed out of it. Immediately Irene recognized the wild locks of black hair, and it took her a second longer to recognize the man with Holmes. So he'd brought his wily little helper with him, had he? Meeting Watson's gaze she smiled innocently, resisting the urge to laugh as he gave her a dirty glance. Still sore about her little bet then, how amusing.

Watson was eternally glad to be out of the carriage at last, even if it meant standing in the rain. Sitting down in that had been a bit unpleasant, and with the carriage driver chattering nonstop he almost wanted to simply walk home when they were done. Giving his hat one good smack before placing it on his head he smiled up at the women, the expression fading for a brief second seeing Irene before turning instead to the woman he could only assume to be their client. "Oh the ride wasn't that bad, and we really should thank you for it. We might have found one ourselves, but getting a carriage in the middle of London can be a bit challenging." As things tended to go, Watson tried to play the polite man and Holmes played... Well, Holmes. Glancing over at his companion with internal dread as he began to speak, Watson rolled his eyes and watched the detective go inside, glancing back at Mary with an apologetic smile. Excellent start to this business transaction, it was a wonder they were even given this job in the first place.

Mary, as he learned her name to be, had a fairly pleasant home. Watson didn't much care for the large estates such as these, but this one held a certain beauty to it that he quite liked. Following Sherlock into the den, Watson remained standing just by the fire place for the time being, hoping to dry off some and warm up from their trip. Against what was his better judgment he let Sherlock begin the conversation, standing by on alert as he waited for his friend to no doubt put his foot in his mouth. The detective knew what he spoke about and could get right to the point, but doing so in a polite, friendly manner was where he was a bit lacking. In fact, simply being personable was really his weak spot, which was a bit ironic since his livelihood involved people constantly. Sure enough, the very first words after his brief introduction suggested that Mary had somehow been negligent, something that Watson hadn't even considered. Where Holmes lacked in empathy the good doctor did not, and he could tell already that Mary would not purposefully lose a child. At least that was his initial assessment, which evidently differed quite greatly from that of his counterpart's.

The exchange between Holmes and Mary was a mercifully short if not uncomfortable one. Watson would venture a guess he was trying to gauge their client's reactions, perhaps see if there might be a hint of her hiding any knowledge from them. His insight was scarcely as good as the detective's, yet he would safely say that there was no indication that anything was being withheld from them. This appeared to be a case of a missing child, one which the hired help of the house had no part in. Listening to Holmes for as long as he did and not speaking up had taken considerable restraint, and once given the chance to introduce himself the doctor jumped at the chance, eager to try and calm down their client; if Holmes angered her and they were dismissed before they even began than this trip was a waste, not to mention he would like to try and find Charlie.

"John Watson, pleasure to meet you Ms. Mortsan," Watson said, smiling politely as he removed his hat, "And let me just apologize for Holmes' manners, for where he excels in intellect he lacks dearly in social skills." Giving the detective a brief glance he cleared his throat, placing his hat down on the mantle of the fireplace before giving his arms a shake to rid them of some water. "We'll be more than happy to help you find Charlie, but we'll need more information first. Simply telling us he's missing isn't very much to go on." He hoped that didn't sound callous, but they really did need more to start their investigation. No doubt the cogs in Sherlock's head were already turning, but he had mentioned giving Watson the reigns this time around, and the doctor would need more to start. Glancing over at Irene curiously as she stood there, supporting Mary by patting her back, Watson rubbed at his chin before looking at the family pictures. "I know you might not be privy to it, but can you tell us of anyone who would wish to harm the family? Any potential enemies, people who aren't happy with current affairs?"