Author's Note:

Hopefully this fan-fiction will take the form of a series of little one shots based around Nigel Griffin and various members of the Five. Set largely in the 1890s it explores what Nigel got up to, and his relationship to each of them – stuff which was largely left to our imaginations in the show. I mean, all we've got to go on is the Worth flashbacks, For King and Country, and Normandy, to understand what kind of a man he is. So I hope these little one shots ring true to what little we saw of his character.

Rated T for language – may get up-ed if something particularly violent happens!

DISCLAIMER: Don't own any characters or Sanctuary, or any images from Sanctuary – don't claim to own them, love them dearly, just tinkering and having fun, not making any money! Please don't sue.

"King Solomon's Mines"

London

Spring, 1896

No matter how quiet, no matter how simple the plan, there was always a nervy thrill that knocked through Nigel Griffin whenever he turned his hand to theft. He was a man driven by circumstance, not design: so that even now, robbing from these privileged bastards, he still did his best to rationalise his behaviour. It was blood money, he insisted mentally, heading into the hands of even more unscrupulous men: men who had connections, and found themselves at the heart of criminality without ever realising it.

Never mind the fact that he'd promised himself he wouldn't do this after Australia, never mind the stunning belle he'd kissed on the forehead this evening, draining away every honest shilling he'd ever made.

He was just too proud to admit when he needed help. Growing up in a terrace house, with never enough money, his family had been staunchly proud of their ability to get by without charity. It was an attitude they had successfully imparted upon their intelligent, ambitious son, and one he'd never been able to shake off. Even when his methods of getting that money were decidedly less honest than turning to friends – well, they had their own problems, they didn't need his too.

Invisible skin could still itch, and as Griffin listened for the click of the lock he was turning, he knew he shouldn't be there. But how else was he going to pay for that dress she bought, or the hotel they were staying in, or the fantastic places they went to? And she did look so good in that dress.

Pushing open the door to the vault, Nigel opened up the hessian sack bundled into his hand and started picking out the pound notes in large wads, stuffing them in.

"Nigel?"

Griffin nearly jumped out of his transparent skin at the sudden, unexpected, and yet familiar voice. Spinning on his heel he found none other than James Watson, poised exactly three feet away, walking stick levelled in the strategic position to strike, should the need arise, at his neck. As always, James was looking almost dead into his eyes, despite the fact he couldn't see him. The moment Griffin saw him he knew there was no point pretending. This was Watson, after all, old Sherlock Holmes never missed a trick.

"Alright," he admitted, still clutching the sack but putting his hands up in surrender, "you got me."

To be honest, he should've known. After the first robbery made it to the Nationals, he should've realised that Watson would be put on the case. Stupid, stupid Griffin. Should've switched town. Should've gone to Edinburgh or something.

"What in the devil are you playing at?" Watson asked, staring down that aquiline nose of his, whiskers twitching in concern.

"Well," he chuckled to himself, "what does it look like?"

Watson grimaced at the pun and chose to ignore it, threatening a little more closely with his cane, "Are you mad" he started to whisper earnestly, "the Bank of England?"

"I couldn't resist."

"How long?"

Griffin could tell his old friend was more upset than he was letting on, and regretted the fact. James' body was boiling beneath the skin, the tense reservation in his lips holding back his extreme distaste for Nigel's behaviour. It was betrayal – he felt betrayed. Just like with Druitt. His friend carrying out the crime behind his back… Griffin hadn't discussed it over brandy, hell, he hadn't even told them he was back in old Blighty, but still… He should've known better than to stab a friend in the back like that. Only he didn't think, did he? He was just being clever, and then got addicted to the sensation. Within the Five he had never been better or brighter at anything except this.

The shame was enough to make Nigel slip back into observable light, completely starker's. He used the bag of money to cover himself, and hunched his shoulders just a little; like a child caught stealing cakes… and Nigel had always been an opportunist.

"Only twice before," His shrug belied just how horrible he felt about it.

"Then why didn't you visit us? You know you are always welcome, you don't have to steal to get by man."

He scratched his ear self-consciously, "It's… kind of complicated."

Watson's eyes narrowed, head straightened, "You mean there's a girl involved." He reproached, rolling his eyes the minute that Nigel indicated he'd hit the mark, "Honestly Griffin could you be more predictable?"

"You haven't met her James she's-"

"Charming, no doubt, and exorbitantly expensive. Let me guess, you've run up debts to the eyeballs?"

He shuffled where he stood, as if he wanted to argue but knew he rightly couldn't, "That would be about right, yeah."

Watson sighed dramatically, lowering his cane a little, "Look, Griffin, don't do this old chap, it's absolute madness. If you're missing the thrill of adventure there's always plenty to be had around Helen, you know that! Why don't you come back - lend us a hand, join us now and then?"

Nigel looked unsure at first, his face contorting as if to say 'Nah,' and launch into a hundred and one excuses.

"Just put that money back where you found it," Watson continued, "and we'll discuss this like civilised men. Perhaps come to some arrangement whereby you can right your wrongs?"

"What, in a cell?"

"No." James' attention shifted briefly to the door, making sure no one was coming and continued quietly, "At the Sanctuary."

Griffin stared at those beady brown eyes, clearly suspicious. It couldn't be as easy as saying sorry… could it? Sure, Watson wasn't Lestrade – he knew the consulting detective had a tendency to bend the rules himself, let alone allow for certain individuals to remain undetected: the girls who'd murdered their abusive abnormal father, the mother who'd stolen back her son. What was a misguided thief among friends? Even so, Nigel wasn't a fool. He knew James was right - he was doing this for all the wrong reasons. He'd just... studiously ignored that sinking feeling from his conscience, as if it might, one day, disappear and leave him free to do as he pleased.

"Look," Watson attempted to reassure him, "it's your choice… but if we play this game, I can assure you, you're not getting out of this bank a free man."

He knew James well enough not to doubt this boast - for though it seemed unlikely that he might've anticipated an invisible opponent, he might well have concocted a plan where visibility was unnecessary for success. Realising the idiocy of this entire situation, Griffin relented.

"Alright," he sighed with no small amount of relief, starting to put the money back from whence it came. "So what did you do, set up LeStrade by the outer door?"

Watson merely smirked knowingly, "Oh wouldn't you like to know?"

Nigel smiled gamely at that, "Can't blame a man for trying." He went invisible again, presuming it would be the safest way for them to escape, as well as preserve whatever modesty he had left.

"Come on," James pointed the way they came, "follow my lead... The first stop for you, my friend, is to tell that floosy of yours that if its only money she's after, she can go to Hell."

Sighing Nigel filed out the door. "You wouldn't be saying that in my position – trust me. What that girl don't know about-"

"Thank you Nigel, I'm sure I don't need intimate details of your conquests."

He tutted at his friend's sense of propriety, "I think we need to hit the pub mate, you're all wound up again."

Watson rolled his eyes, concentrating on the first part of the trap which they had yet to pass, "Only if you can prove your days of wanton thievery are over."

The sharp reminder of his disapproval rendered Griffin a little less playful. "Point made." He bit out, "I suppose she was a little high maintenance anyway."

Author's Post Note: Yeah, I know, I'm gonna leave it there because I am LAaAZY. Also can't be bothered to figure out the secret plan (there! I admitted it! Now leave me alone!)

31/03/14 - whilst editing stuff and going over the Sanctuary timeline it occured to me that Griffin has a really strong moral compass... think about it, out of all the few scenes we have to go on he's seen 1) telling Helen she doesn't have to be first to take the serum and offering himself or John up instead, [The Five] 2) reminding everyone how unethical Adam Worth's experiments have been [For King and Country] 3) Telling the PM to shove it if he wants them to be the toadies of a government machine and assassins to boot [ditto], and 4) stopping the Nazis [Normandy]. Despite the PM hinting that Griffin's stolen money, and Nigel's clearly not feeling too bad about the accusation, and HG Well's Invisible Man's reputation, Nigel's generally speaking quite morally upstanding. But you know what, when you've moved up in the world socially after fighting tooth and nail, gotten super powers, watched your friend go insane and kill people, and everything... he had to have at least one whoopsie period where he let his selfishness overcome him right? Sorry. TV Analysis dump. :)