The Deduction Of Steel.
Author's Notes: A Sherlock Holmes AU of X-Men: First Class, starring Charles as a highly intelligent, yet optimistic and social detective and Erik as a jaded, ex-army doctor. I'm balancing a lot of fics at the moment, but rest assured, I will finish my fics regardless of how long it takes. I'm horribly stubborn... Back to the story… I apologize in advance to all the readers if I've butchered both Sherlock Holmes and X-Men: First Class, but while this fic may have themes of crime, murder etc... What I really want to focus on is the relationship between Erik and Charles... So here goes nothing~
On another note this fic has also been posted on Ao3.
CHAPTER ONE: The Brotherhood Tavern
The day went by as usual; Erik Lehnsherr was walking home from school. School was as bothersome as always. Class was tediously simple and he completed his work in record time. The other students that surrounded him were imbeciles and even at the age of 13 he knew what the word meant. It was somewhat amusing that they feared him although he had no clue why. Erik's shoes made a scraping noise as he walked on the gravel stone lane that would end up at the little cottage that he shared with his mother. It was a small cottage, but it was warm, and it was home.
The small boy couldn't help the solemn frown that adorned his face as he looked glumly at the ground. He loved his mother so much, and it killed him inside to see how vulnerable she looked now that his father was no longer here. Erik silently cursed the freak accident that took away his father's life: because of it his mother now looked utterly lost and Erik had no clue how to fill the void.
At best, all he could do was succeed in school and be there for his mother, and if that meant dealing with idiotic school mates and inefficient teachers then so be it. His stomach rumbled. Already he could imagine himself coming home, being greeted by the delicious smell of his mother's cooking and her warm smile. Even in her grief, she still succeeded in being a wonderful mother. Her hands were still warm and the scent of her flowery perfume still held its sweet embrace. She had comforted him, placed his grief before her own and Erik loved her even more for that. He would become something in the future. and he would take care of her like she took care of him.
A cold gush of wind blew and Erik shivered, very thankful that their home came into view. The sight of it instantly comforted him. A familiar white picket fence surrounded a small cottage. A tiny garden filled with herbs and vegetables rested in front of a clean brown door.
It was evening and nearing night so the lights in the house were on. Erik opened the door and instantly the smell of hot goulash wafted through it and warmed his soul. Grinning widely, he practically ran through, slammed the door shut and headed towards the kitchen.
Only to halt dead in his tracks.
Something was wrong. His mother was in the kitchen, sitting on the wooden chairs at the tiny dinning table. Her beautiful brunette hair was disheveled and frazzled, as if she had been running her fingers through it over and over again. Her normally warm eyes were wet with tears. Those steel green orbs stood out against her now sickly and pale complexion. Her lips, which quivered every now and then, were pursed together in a tight, thin line.
There was a man standing above her, dressed in a fine suit, looking down at her as if she were less than the dirt beneath his feet. He reached his hands out towards her, his fingers riddled with jeweled rings.
Anger filled him, embraced him tightly and consumed him and before he knew it, Erik was rushing towards the man screaming, "Don't hurt my mother!" His attempt didn't go far. Instantly, he was tackled to the floor and, being the child that he was, he hit the floor. Hard.
"Erik!" cried his mother as she got up to her feet, trying to run towards him, but the man held her back with a firm hand.
Erik growled and thrashed around, trying to free himself from the stranger that was currently holding him down. His father was no longer here and that meant that he was now the man of the house and that it was his job to protect his mother no matter what. He continued to struggle, ignoring the pain in his arms which were being twisted in an attempt to subdue him. "If you hurt her I'll kill you!" The stranger that was holding Erik down had maneuvered him till he was on his feet, his arms still held painfully around his back. The boy did his best to glare at the well dressed man that stood before him. His mother was still sitting on her chair, her eyes filled with fear for him.
"My, my, my, what a rude child," said the well dressed man. His teeth were bared in a gentlemanly grin, but his brown eyes were cold and sick, as if his soul had floated out of them and never returned. He held out his hands and fixed the collar of Erik's shirt, despite the boy's protest. "My name is Klaus Schmidt, and as a gentleman, you are to introduce yourself as well."
Erik just growled viciously before spitting out his own name.
Schmidt grinned even wider before glancing back at Erik's mother. "Quite a fire within your boy. Easy on the eyes as well."
Erik didn't know what it meant, but the look of absolute terror on his mothers face could only signify that was it horrifically bad. Calloused hands ran through his hair and Erik felt dirty in a way that didn't make sense.
"No!" screamed his mother. By now she was crying, tears running down her pretty face as she tugged on Schmidt's sleeve. "This was not part of the deal!" She was on her knees now, her long skirts rumpled. "You were only meant to take me!"
"No! Mother!" yelled Erik and his struggles became stronger. What was happening?
Schmidt sighed before nodding, "It's a shame that I am a gentleman. Your son would have brought in quite a pretty penny." He fixed the cuff of his sleeves, "Anyhow, your debt is now settled, we shall leave your son be. Come along now, Eddie."
Erik stopped struggling when his mother placed her hands on his face, smoothing down his hair and smiling ever so gently. Only this time her smile was sad, full of grief, and Erik didn't know what to do. He felt helpless and utterly useless.
"Erik. Erik, my dear. Promise me you'll be safe." His mother touched their foreheads together and Erik could smell her perfume. His eyes watered but he refused to cry. "Mama.."
"Promise me, okay? Be a good boy, do not worry about me. I'll be all right."
"Where are you going?" he asked in a broken voice that ended in a pitiful whimper.
"Somewhere far away," she took her head away and stared into his eyes, and Erik could see the love underneath all that pain. "But that doesn't mean I don't love you, or that I'll ever stop loving you." She took a hair pin out and pressed it into the pocket of his shirt. "So no matter where I am, even if you can't find me, always know that I love you okay? My dear child, my Erik, I love you, so don't ever doubt that." She was crying now, sobbing uncontrollably and it seemed to physically hurt her when she broke away from him. Then with one last look of anguish, his mother ran out the door, leaving him behind.
"Mama! No! MOTHER!" screamed out Erik. In his franticness he managed to free himself, but only slightly. Now he was being held by his jacket, his arms outreached as if he could grab her, hold onto her and never let go. "MOTHER!"There was an angry grunt followed by a searing pain to his neck and then the world went black. When Erik woke up all that was left of his mother was her hair pin and a strange coin that had fallen under the table.
He was alone.
Erik woke up in a cold sweat, gasping and shuddering as he sat up. Gripping the bed sheets harshly, he took panting breaths in an attempt to calm down. It was the same blasted dreams that had haunted him night after night and they were beginning to take their toll. Too bad he couldn't drink his sorrows away. With a groan that was more like a growl he sat up, the sheets sliding down his bare torso and pooling at his waist.
With gentle eyes Erik looked at his plain wooden bedside table. Or more specifically, the hair pin that rested upon it. It was his mother's hairpin: vines of silver curled around a sliver pin, blooming in petals of jade and purple. It had looked so beautiful against the brunette of his mother's hair, and even though it had been so many years, the image of her was so very clear within his mind. With a gentle touch that defied his personality, Erik caressed the hair pin before looking out the window and seeing the rising sun. His expression hardened before he tore himself out of bed. Today was just another day.
The streets of London were busy as always. The whole city was awake, rushing around to get to work and live their life the best way they knew how. The scent of bread and other foods froze in the chill of the air. The clanking of hooves against the pavement joined together with the bellows of the working men and together they created the symphony that was London. Children ran around laughing merrily and one even ran into him, yelling a clumsy 'sorry' before sprinting off towards his friends. Erik pulled up the collar of his woolly trench-coat as he tried to fend off the brisk, cold air. Tightening his grip on the briefcase he was carrying, he looked up at the gray, cloudless sky. London weather was so depressing. For now he had to make a stop at the bank.
Hours later Erik couldn't help the frustrated growl that left his lips as he stormed out of the local bank. Another dead lead. No one there knew of a man named Klaus Schmidt. How could that be? A man could not simply disappear into thin air. Erik had chased lead after lead only to meet dead ends. The frustration was killing him. He had to be careful now, his money was running low and he didn't want to have to work temporarily at a hospital before continuing his journey. He had to find Klaus. Find him and kill him slowly and painfully. But this was Erik's very last lead. A dead end, and he had no clue what to do.
It was evening now. The air was getting colder and he had wandered listlessly till he was at a park. Night was nearing but he was reluctant to look for another place to stay for tonight.
"Erik?" said a gentle, feminine voice and Erik spun around, unable to help the growl that tore from his throat at being disturbed from his thoughts. His eyes widened slightly in surprise when he realized who it was. "Angel?"
"The one and only," said Angel Salvadore with a grin on her face. Her sleek black hair curled softly below her shoulders. Her cream white dress clashed against her olive skin. A cheery smile suited her gentle features, giving her an innocent and soft appearance. Her dark eyes, however, spoke of something more. Of a past too dark and a life too bleak to speak of. Erik should know; he had once hired her for the night.
"Angel," said the male gruffly, he didn't reach out to shake her hand. Instead, he dug his hands further into the depths of his pockets. "What?"
Angel rolled her eyes, though her smile didn't leave her face. "What are you doing in little old England? Last time I saw you, you were leaving for the war."
"I'm back here for business," it was somewhat a lie, but there was a bit of truth in it... if you dug deep enough.
"With a bit of fun in it I hope?" there was coyness in Angel's voice that wasn't there before. Her dark eyes glinted in lust as she touched his arm.
Erik drew back, "No, not this time Angel."
The woman pouted, her arms crossed across her chest in a childish manner. "Spoilsport," she said in a sulky voice. But her spirits picked up quickly. "At least come to the tavern for a drink? It's freezing out here."
"There's somewhere I have to be."
"Nonsense Erik, if you had somewhere to be, then you would be there by now. Come along now. Besides, you still owe me a favor. Might as well get it over and done with."
Before Erik could protest, the woman grasped the hem of his jacket like a child and dragged him to god knows where.
'The Brotherhood Tavern' was surprisingly quiet for a drinking establishment at this time of night. There were murmuring voices. An occasional bellow of laughter would ring throughout the tavern. The smell of bar food and beer seeped into the atmosphere, even into the very timber used to build the place. This wasn't such a bad place. The lights were dim and it seemed as if people kept to their own business. Erik sat, suitcase by his feet, in front of the counter where the barkeep was serving drinks. As usual, Erik sat himself on the seat furthest from everyone else, closest to the wall, and didn't bother waving the barkeep over.
"As anti-social as ever Erik," chided Angel in a strangely sisterly manner. She brushed some imaginary dirt off her long skirts and plopped herself beside him. "Now tell me, how have you been?"
Erik couldn't help but raise a brow. He had only known this woman for a night years ago, and yet here she was, sitting next to him and talking to him as if he were family. "Look," he said, not caring about how harsh his voice sounded. He just wanted her to go away. "I appreciate your… curiosity, but-"
He was suddenly cut off when someone from the corner of the tavern, another female, called out Angel's name.
"Whoops!" said Angel, looking rather sheepish, "Best for me to be off. Talk to you soon!" she said. And before he could say anything else, she fluttered away like a dragonfly.
Breathing a mental sigh of relief, Erik was just about to just slip away himself, but his elbow hit a glass that hadn't been there before and it fell off the counter, onto the floor, shattering into many little pieces. He swore under his breath before uttering a 'sorry.'
"That's alright ol' chap." said a smooth voice, dappled with a cultivated English accent.
Erik looked up and saw the most... amazing eyes he had ever looked upon. He had never seen such a vivid blue, and for a moment he thought he was drowning within their endless depths. He was brought back, however, by those insanely delectable looking lips. It wasn't just those features either. It was that face, firm and yet gentle, framed by a mass of perfectly tousled brown hair.
Those lips creased upwards into a warm smile and the man knelt down with him and began picking up shards of glass.
"You shouldn't have to help, I dropped your drink."
"It's fine, really. I'm Charles. Charles Xavier," said the man as he stood up and stuck out his free hand.
"Erik Lensherr," replied Erik, as he hesitantly took the brunet's hand, only to mentally scold himself. He really shouldn't give his name to a stranger like that; it's how a person could end up dead. Now that they were both standing up, Erik noticed the difference between them. Charles was at least a head shorter than Erik, reaching up to his neck at the most. Charles dressed rather differently as well. His simple white shirt and black pants, while clean, were unpressed and ruffled. His tweed jacket seemed a size too small and covered most of his form. He looked... scruffy. In a rather endearing way.
Charles returned to his seat and sheepishly handed the barkeep the remains of the glass.
"Want 'nother drink bub?" asked the barkeep as he took the shards and dumped them into the bin. His muscles bulged underneath his white shirt.
"The usual please Logan. And a coffee for my new friend."
Logan made a gruff noise of acknowledgment that sounded rather like a dismissal, though he began making the requested beverages.
Charles shot Erik a smile and gestured to the empty seat next to him, "Sit."
Erik's eyes narrowed but he sat down anyway, "How did you know that I didn't drink?"
"Well, you don't seem the type to like to drink in front of others, judging by the way you dress." Charles shrugged, happily accepting the glass of scotch that was placed in front of him. He took a sip and moaned at the smoothness of the alcohol.
Erik took a sip of his coffee without adding any sugar or cream. How strange it was that a Tavern served coffee. "My clothes?"
"Neatly pressed, color coded, tailored. Nothing is out of place, not even your hair, and yet the weather out there is abysmal. It shows that you care about how you look. Not out of vanity, but out of the need to always be in control, which leads to the fact that you would not appreciate any loss of control. Alcohol reduces inhibitions and judgment, therefore leading to aforementioned loss of control."
Erik couldn't help but leave his mouth hanging in amazement before he caught himself. "And you got all this from my clothes?"
"Yes," said Charles without any hesitance, as he took another sip of his scotch, "Which brings me to another matter; would you like a place to stay? You seem to be needing it, my friend."
This time the German male couldn't help the wry grin that swept across his face. He took another sip of his coffee and made a casual gesture with his hands. "Go on then, tell me how you know I need a place to stay."
The brunet seemed happy at the fact that he was able to continue his rambling, and did so without needing any further encouragement. "I can tell by your suitcase... and by what you aren't wearing. You don't wear anything that seems to be of sentimental value; no necklaces, not even a well-worn and well loved tie. You wear a watch, but that seems out of necessity and being punctual rather than anything else. It means you have little to no human attachment. You're a loner, a traveler, further proven by the state of your suitcase. It's slim, showing that you carry very little. It's also scuffed at the bottom edges slightly. Not scuffed enough to belong to a person who works in a business, but scuffed enough to show that you carry it around often, and are therefore a frequent traveler. Are you searching for something?"
Charles eyes were big and soulful, filled with a child-like curiosity that Erik didn't want to quell. Instead, he changed the subject. "Charles, has anyone ever told you that you ramble for a rather insane duration of time? It's astonishing really."
The brunet grinned sheepishly, "Well, yes. Many have told me that I have a habit of rambling on and on. Will you still move in with me however? The rent is very cheap."
"What's with this urge to find a room-mate all of a sudden?" Erik couldn't help but smile. The happiness of the smaller male was contagious. "For all you know, I could be a murderer."
He wasn't really, but he was going to be the moment he found Schmidt.
At those words, Charles seemed to blush ever so slightly. The color of his cheeks clashed against the cream of his skin and complimented the red hue of those sinful lips. "I don't think you're a murderer. If you were, then I would know, since even the cleanest murderers would slip up and leave evidence. I would know, I always do. Er… And… Well... to answer your question… You see, my maid, Moira, she thinks me to be too anti-social, and told me that if I didn't go looking for a friend then she would mess up all my books and hide my chess set." He chuckled nervously, "So here I am. Also, you seem to be very pleasant company, if I do say so myself."
Erik couldn't help the toothy grin that spread across his face like a pleasant breeze. "My dear Charles, it will be an honor to move in with you." And at the moment it really did seem so. The man before him seemed to be intelligent, and was very easy on the eyes. The fact that he played chess was just a bonus. For the first time in a very long time, Erik reveled in the company of another human.
"Wonderful! And the best thing is you're already packed and ready to go."
Author's Note: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it enough to leave a review :)
