"If I may say so once again, this is the up most absurd thing we've ever had to do for a case." Sherlock bespoke with grudge and annoyance behind his words when his body slouched in his chair, as if his physicality didn't speak for itself.
"Holmes, it's only a magic show, calm yourself." Watson said, agitation climbing through his own words as he'd dealt with his dear friend's ranting and raving and complaints about how much he'd rather not wish to sit through a magic show when everything was so bluntly obvious that he was never amazed, nor amused one bit. "Besides, I heard that this illusionist is supposed to be a great treat. Mary was still in awe this morning when she told me about the show last night, said that she grew an orange tree from a small pot of dirt in less than a minute."
"Impossible, obviously it was some mechanical device built into a table or even the pot itself." Holmes said, disregarding it as if it were nothing, and with a wave of his hand.
"Said she guessed everyone's name in the entire audience."
"Performers are very social people who have people working for them, something as simple at that should be lucid enough for even someone like you, Watson." He squirmed in his seat like a child as the theater began to fill, each and every seat filled, not even room to stand on the side arms as the low class citizens of London consumed the extra area.
As the lights in the theater began to darken, the lamps on the stage lit up and a tall man walked on stage, with light blonde hair that contrasted with the scarlet curtain that hung lazily behind him. He began, his strong and native accent filling the walls.
"Life and death. Space and time. Fate and chance. These are the forces of the universe. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a woman who has unlocked these mysteries." Holmes immediately rolled his eyes at the absurdity, "From the furthest corners of the world where the dark arts still hold sway she returns to us to demonstrate how nature's laws may be bent. I give you...Daria." And as the introducer's arm sways behind him, presenting the crowd to their entertainment, the curtain rises up yet there is no one on stage, not even the man.
There was a low murmur of voices rising in wonder of what was going on, when suddenly, there was a loud laughing coming from the stage, back stage it seemed. Heavy footsteps, running footsteps, and there were suddenly two people on stage, one running from the other. The poor soul had no weapons and was very scrawny compared to the hound of a man chasing him with a shining silver cutlass. The unarmed man suddenly ran of stage and back on stage, towing a large blanket behind him. He tripped the villain and jumped to the front of the stage, spreading the blanket out like a small wall that separated him from the audience. But with a sudden swift motion pulled the blanket away to reveal a large cutlass of their own, protruding from a large stone. He yanked the sword from the rock like King Arthur dove towards the villain, clashing swords.
They fought for several moments, before the villain knocked the cutlass from the smaller man's hands, and held him up from the stage floor by the collar of his shirt.
"Is there anything you have to say for yourself, you slimy little magician?" The man growled, the age in his voice sounded forced and utterly fake, Holmes had known that this was all a scene from the moment the cutlass appeared out of "no where", when there was obviously a trap door. But he kept his attention towards the stage. The smaller man had murmured something, and the blade was held to his chest. "What was that?"
His feet dangled in the air, trying to get loose from his grip, when he said nothing the sword was then plunged through his stomach. Women around him screamed, but Holmes payed no attention as his eyes were dead set on the stage watching the wounded man with a sword protruding from his back. The nasty, fat murder dropped his grip from the man's shirt, but when 99% of the audience thought the dead man would fall to the ground with a dead-weight thud, he clutched onto the man's hands and swung himself over the head of the villain, landing on his feet behind him.
The audience reaction to this was phenomenal and he quickly yanked the cutlass from his chest and rammed it into the back of his attacker. Everyone clapped as the smaller man opened himself to the audience, and flipped off his hat. Out flowed long brown locks that framed an obvious feminine face. The audience clapped even more as she smiled. This was Daria, the Illusionist.
"Thank you." She said, and slightly kicked the struggling man to the wing, out of sight. "Thank you." She threw the hat to the audience and it burst into shiny sparkles, putting the audience in awe. She spun around quickly, but steadily and her men's trousers had miraculously formed together and became a flowing dark green skirt that swayed on the stage.
She pulled out a small decorated box from behind her back, "Might I borrow a handkerchief from someone?" A few raised up soft white handkerchiefs and she spotted someone close to the front, and on the end. "Ah, you madam." It took a few moments for Holmes to realize that a woman next to him had offered her dainty handkerchief and placed it into the box. "Keep it in your lap, and be patient." She winked at the woman who smiled and nodded guilty, for she'd tried to sneak a look, Holmes rolled his eyes once more and turned back to the stage.
"Now, I would like to continue with an examination of time. From the moment we enter this life, we are in the flow of it." She lifts her right hand and a medium sized egg seems to grow from between her fingers, she rolls it from the top of her hand to her palm over and over skillfully, "We measure it and we mark it, but we cannot defy it." And it's suddenly balanced on the top, "We cannot even speed it up," and the egg rolls under to her palm on it's own, "or slow it down. Or can we? Have we not each experienced the sensation that the beautiful moments seemed to pass too quickly..." She holds the egg up and it drops to her other hand below, she brings it up once more, "and wished that we could make it linger?" She drops it a second time, only this time it was as if her actions and the object represented her wise words as the egg seemed to slow it's pace from one hand to the other. Remarkable...Holmes thought, his eyes never leaving the woman for one moment, "Or felt time slow on a dull day...and wished we could speed things up a bit?"
She looks out into the audience, her eyes in prominent and precise concentration, as she sets the egg upon a table and holds her hand over it. Daria breaths in and the audience gasps as the egg seems to grow in size, twice, three, four, five times the size as it had been and changed from a pure white to a dull tan. And then the egg began to shake, rolling around on the surface. A gasp from the audience once more as the egg begins to break, a faint crackling sound could be heard if you were listening closely, and Holmes had been, intently.
Daria sighed slightly, and a small white head popped out from the egg, and soon the beautiful body of a grown swan stood on the table, squawking slightly. The crowd bursts like the button on a richly spoiled boy's trousers into applause and she smiles slightly.
"I assure you, she is quite real." Daria said, running her hand over the back of the majestic, magical swan. "And madam, where is your handkerchief?"
Holmes turns to the woman who volunteered her handkerchief to see her stand and show that the box was empty. He turned back to the stage in time to see two bright blue butterflies had flown onto stage, the woman's handkerchief in tow. Clapping erupted around him and Daria smiles, bowing to her faithful audience. Well, aside from one man who still sat while everyone gave her a standing ovation, Holmes tried to rack his mind for possible explanations as to how on god's green earth had she managed to compel such...obviously mechanical illusions.
She thanks the audience and walks back stage as the curtain crashes down to the stage, signaling that the show had come to an end.
"That was utterly fantastic, wasn't it?"
"Yes..." Holmes said, his eyes wondering around, "it was...I suppose tomorrow if we arrive here around mid-day we'd be able to sneak back stage without a problem at all."
And the detective duo waited until the next day and crept back into the room with the ocean of chairs through a fire escape in the alley. It was completely dark, despite the sun that shined it's bright light through the sky light.
"Holmes?" He heard Watson call, and saw he was up by the stage. Holmes followed the man up the steps and observed the stage floor, with the difficultly caused by the lighting, he couldn't see a trap door at all. Not a single hidden handle, nor hinges. He sighed and began to walk back stage with Watson.
A light suddenly volumized not far from him, flowing through the cracks of a swinging door. Curiosity getting the better of his good and intelligent judgment, Holmes followed the light into the room, swinging the door open with just a nudge of his elbow.
"Watson." He said, gesturing for the doctor to follow him.
The room held a very rich glow about it, a small workshop with wooden chairs and tools assorted along tables. Holmes would inspect every inch of the room for any possible signs for a murder weapon. Because, after all, that's why the good doctor and himself were there; investigating prior suspects for the murder of Eden Alexander.
Holmes' eye caught the table in which the egg was set upon earlier in the evening where it had hatched. He walked over to the table, felt underneath it for some type of large device but only felt the flat bottom of the table.
There were soft footsteps in the hall that connected to the room that held Watson and Holmes, and in the midst of their investigation, a voice stopped them.
"What do you think you're doing in here? Get away from that." Daria's calm but commanding voice caught both men off guard but Holmes quickly straightened himself as Watson took the lead as Holmes observed the woman before them.
Not a tall woman, just about as average as any he'd seen. Her eyes held no colour, only an absence of colour for they seemed to be either a dark, dark brown or even black itself. Her skin looked very thin as if it would rip like paper if too much pressure was layed upon it, slightly flawless but Holmes could see where a tad of stage make-up had been applied to cover a blemish of some sort. But she was hiding something else, that he could tell.
"We apologize for intruding, we saw your show yesterday, very impressive," she nods, keeping her eyes on him, "My name is Jonathan Watson, and this is my partner Sherlock Holmes."
"How can I help you, detective?" She asked, her eyes on Holmes now. Holmes raised an eyebrow, for they had not mentioned that either was a detective.
"As you may know you are one of few suspects suspected for the murder of Eden Alexander. So we obviously must inspect your theater, and set up a time where we can interrogate you." Holmes spoke, his eyes lingering on the table he'd been inspecting moments before.
"I hardly think that my table is capable of such invidious crimes." Her voice was so uncharacteristically calm, it was natural coming from her. Sherlock smirked as she walked towards him and her table.
"Yes, the wonderful swan trick, very illusive."
"I've seen things like that before, but never one like that," Watson said, leaning against the table, "Extraordinary."
"Thank you."
"How did you do it? Some sort of machinery within the legs of the table?" Holmes asked, his eyes on the woman, trying to figure something more from her, anything from her. Two things he knew for certain, she was not from England, judging by her foreign accent, and she did many things with her hands, as they were calloused and scratched. "And the butterflies, especially how you got the butterflies to fly." She smirks and nodded, with the knowledge of everything behind her eyes.
"You can't figure it out, Mr. Holmes?" Her smirk never fades but her curiosity seems to bloom from knowledge to the want to know.
"A thin wire attached from the top of the stage, most likely."
Daria crosses her arms casually, "That would be one way to do it. You are a skeptic?"
Watson snorts rudely and Daria smiles, "Asking if Holmes is a skeptic is like asking him if he has two eyes."
"Oh, but being a skeptic is just fine, it makes the prestige all the greater. Doctor Watson, you are a man that allows himself to be amazed without questioning it." Daria says, Holmes eying her as if she were about to run off. An orange ball appears in her hand as she rolls it between her fingers. "I'll show you a trick I am very fond of. Are you a gambling man?"
Watson and Holmes share a glance but nothing more, "On occasion."
"I will bet your friend here the secret of the swan egg that I can guess which hand you place this in every time." She hands Watson the ball and turns around, "Put it in your fist, raise your hand against your forehead...concentrate on it, form a mental picture."
"Yes."
"Have you got it?"
"Yes."
"Put your hands in front of you." Watson does and she turns back around. Looking at his hands, and with ease and causality, she reaches over and places her palm on his right hand, "It's in your right." Watson opens his hand to reveal the plump orange ball. "A lucky guess, perhaps?"
"Hidden mirrors," Holmes spoke, watching Watson's amazed face, "Only hidden mirrors my dear friend."
Daria smirks, "No. It's more primitive than that." She holds her hand out, and Watson places it in her palm, "When you raise your hand to your head, the blood drains from it." She does so, then brings it back in front of her and compares it with her other, "It will be paler every time." She hands the ball back to him.
Watson smiles and laughs, "Huh, I like that. I like that very much."
"I thought you would," Daria crosses her hands behind her back, "Now, detective, doctor, if you don't mind, I've got to prepare for tonight's performance."
"We still must hold an interrogation, run questions by you, if you don't mind."
"Oh, yes, well it will have to wait until tomorrow. I've no show tomorrow, so anytime would be great for me." Her voice calm and serene when speaking to Holmes, he nods. She turns to leave but stops momentarily, "And perhaps tomorrow you can use the front door, instead of the fire escape, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson." And she leaves the room with an air of odd yet calming excitement, leaving the two men slightly dumbfounded.