Ch 1: The Game is Afoot

I imagined other young ladies seldom found themselves in such a questionable state –crawling in the shadows of a deserted showroom like some marauder. But I, being a Holmes, welcomed these singular predicaments.

Crouching under a counter, I swiped my black bangs aside and held up the anonymous telegram wired to Scotland Yard, the words lit by a sliver of moonlight.

'YFITOZIB NRWMRTSG. MLGGRMTSZN QVDVOVIH'

Given the Yard's usual state of incompetence, it hardly came as a surprise they had failed to decipher so simple a message, and with Uncle Sherlock attending to a case at the Royal Louvre Museum in Paris, the Yard turned to me as a last resort.

It wasn't difficult to see the message in the telegram formed a simple substitution cipher of reversed alphabets: A's replaced Z's, B's replaced Y's, C's with X's, and so forth. The decoded message read:

'BURGLARY MIDNIGHT. NOTTINGHAM JEWELERS'

As usual, the moment I had used my deductive powers to provide the Scotland Yarders the information they required, they simply relegated me to the sidelines–refusing me to further partake in their investigations. I presumed their sentiments stemmed from their primeval notions of the 'weaker sex'. I suppressed a snort and flexed the digits sticking out from my fingerless glove. If only they knew of the more unconventional powers at my disposal…

Well, even if they did, I suppose they'd never believe it. Afterall, they –and even my logician Uncle for that matter, remained in the shadows of England's preternatural society –the very society I belonged to.

The showroom clock began striking the hour. I stuffed the slip into my frock-coat and flattened myself against the woodwork. A frisson of anticipation coursed through me. My pulse sped up with each chime, and after the twelfth sounded, a heavy silence hovered in the air. I waited and waited, the seconds passing by at a glacial pace. Then, I heard it.

A tight knot formed in my chest as the rusted hinges of the showroom's undersized window screeched in the darkness, then stopped short, signaling a small, rat-like man had scrambled inside.

Light scuffs on the floorboard proceeded without an inkling of hesitation. The man's footsteps flitted past the diamonds, past the signet rings and opals, and then he stopped in his tracks, as though he finally found what he came here for.

He drew nearer, his tall shadow washing over my boots. I swore under my breath and shifted to the other side of the counter, but only to glimpse a pair of slender calves peeking out from a long skirt. I blinked. The silhouette in front of me didn't belong to a man at all but rather… a young woman.

Careful not to betray my presence, I rose from my hiding place. With her back to me, a teenage girl hovered over a nearby counter. Long, flaxen tresses spilled over the glass display in a disarray. Through her curtained hair, I caught her hand fishing out a delicate artifact out of its confines.

A diadem.

"I'd advise you to stop right where you are." I kept my voice soft as I sprang from the counter. "Else I'm afraid you'll be in for quite a vamp."

I positioned my hands strategically behind me, pointing at her through the fabric of my frock–coat, ready to defend or attack if warranted. But, to my surprise, the girl merely tilted her head at me in a cataleptic manner. With dull, amber eyes, her gaze locked with mine, and a vacant smile crept her lips.

A chill passed through me. "What the deuce you think you're doing?"

And just like that, she completely dismissed my words. I stared at her in disbelief as she returned to her plundering until a series of barks emerged in the distance. The Scotland Yard terriers.

The moment I heard the barks, so did she. The young woman's expression morphed at once; her glazed eyes turned hard. "A…dog?"

She whirled to her side, looking at me full in the face. Her hands, now trembling, dropped the diadem with a clatter. She stormed past me to the doorway, but staggered backwards when a great hound poked its head through the entrance, bearing its teeth at her. I almost pitied her deplorable state until her gaze darted to the window.

"Don't be foolhardy," I whispered.

Of course, the girl didn't heed my words. She bolted like a frightened deer, her long dress swishing with every step. Just as her fingertips reached for the windowsill, I fixed my attention on the girl's ankles. I didn't want to resort to this, but I had little choice.

After stealing a glance around me, I stilled my face in concentration. The muscles in my fingers tightened, prickling with exhilaration. The tingles transformed into vibrations. Maintaining a controlled mind, I stared at her feet and felt the vibration of the swishing fabric become coherent with my own vibration.

Like a marionette to a puppeteer, the hem of the girl's dress came alive under my fingertip's command. The fabric slinked towards her ankles. If anyone witnessed this moment, no doubt, they'd attribute it to delirium or lunacy. I, however, considered such phenomena as natural as the physics tomes I perused in my spare time. Afterall, manipulating matter in this manner could be explained by the same principles. It was all a matter of adjusting frequency, phase, and amplitude of brainwaves through mental concentration and a focus point.

With a whorl of my finger, the fabric twisted around her calves like a snake and held her captive. The young lady froze. But before she could glance at her immobile feet, I seized my chance and brought her to the floor.

At that very moment, the two officials of Scotland Yard who had stood watch outside, burst through the entryway. I called off my enchantment at once.

Commissioner Delacourt, a burly, square faced official from Scotland Yard wasted no time in seizing the girl's arms while Inspector Lestrade, his lean, ferret-like colleague, struggled to cuff her squirming wrist. Once she was detained, Delacourt wheeled around to face me, his voice sharp as glass.

"What the devil are you doing here, Miss Valentine?"

My gaze drifted to the restive terriers that circled the Commissioner before I pointedly caught his eye. "I merely came to tidy up after the lumbering hounds."

Delacourt's face pinched. "You were strictly meant to find a lead, Miss Valentine, not blooming follow it."

The girl in his grasp let out a strangled plea. "U-unhand me. I s-swear to you I'm innocent."

Lestrade scoffed. "If we had a shilling for every time we heard that."

"B-but, it's true."

"Then why are you here, miss?"

"I don't know. I –I must...have sleepwalked." But as soon as the words left her mouth, the young lady stared at her laced shoes and crinolines, her cheeks deepening in color.

I casted her a disbelieving look. Surely, the girl could concoct a better story than that. If she was prepared to lie, she could, at the very least, make it a convincing one.

"In day slippers and attire?" Lestrade's voice dripped with skepticism. "State your name, miss."

The young woman's rose stained lips trembled. "Elizabeth Adler."

"And how did you bypass the main entrance's security measure?"

She stared at the window with worrisome eyes. "I…don't know."

"She entered through here." I pointed to the window in question and its broken lock. December air seeped through the crevice, submerging the room in a coldness that made my breath materialize. Just as I was about to shut out the irksome draft, something moved in the shadows. I took a jolting step forwards.

Delacourt's eyes narrowed. "Something the matter, Miss Valentine?"

I doubled checked past the window. All stood still once more. "No," I murmured. "Just some slipshod bat…"

I returned my attention to the Inspector who was wrapping up his generic line of questioning. Lestrade's eyes flickered to the diadem lying on the floor. "And now perhaps you'd care to explain the most important bit of all –why you attempted to embezzle this in the first place?"

Elizabeth appeared moments away from waterworks. "I-I told you. I didn't steal it. I don't know anything about the diadem–"

"Enough of this claptrap, Lestrade," said Delacourt. "It's nearing morning hours, and I have to be up at the academy tomorrow. Proceed with the arrest. Resume her questioning in the morning when she is feeling more cooperative."

"Yes, sir."

The Commissioner grabbed the leashes of the restless terriers and led them outside. The cold air stirred the back of my neck. I trailed the party from a distance, my eyes searching the alley. Where the devil was he? And then the two terriers that flanked our party broke my thought. They released a growl, their leashes pulling taut.

The Commissioner's eyes darted to Lestrade. "Well, don't just stand there, you dolt –check it. I'll keep an eye on this one."

Lestrade grunted his assent as the hounds broke free. They tore through the streets, their feet thundering all the way to the back of the store. Lestrade sprinted after them, and then so did I, ignoring the Commissioner's distant protests. As we neared to the back end of the store, the barks intermingled with a chorus of moans. The hairs on my arm stood up. I hastened behind Lestrade's trail until he came to an abrupt stop. There, in front of us sat three men, bound and gagged, their colorless faces frozen with horror.

Recognition filled Lestrade's eyes. "Hold on just a moment. You lot are–"

"The French smugglers the Yard failed to arrest last month," I said –emphasis on failed.

I removed one of the men's gags when he lunged forwards. I careened out of the way, as he violently grasped the Inspector's collar, through his chain-bounded hands. "Il avait un visage de bête comme!"

"Pull yourself together man!" Lestrade yanked his uniform free.

The man next to him quivered. "L-lesus naturae…m-monstre…Je l'ai vu un f-f-antôme avec un visage blanc…Il nous a a-attaqués." His voice trembled into silence though his eyes fixated on the alleyway.

"I beg your pardon," said the Inspector.

"A phantom." I squinted into the empty passage the man's gaze remained glued at. "They say a white faced phantom attacked them."

"Z-ze girl es right," said the smallest man in a thick French accent. "It vas h-horrible."

Lestrade snorted as he replaced the long, thin chain that bounded their wrists with handcuffs. "What poppycock."

From a distance, Delacourt came into view, with Elizabeth stumbling in front of him. "Heard all the commotion. Do you not have this under control–" He fell silent at the sight of the cowering men."Are they who I think they are?"

"Ay," said Lestrade. "I expect they were in cahoots with this young lady here, attempting to filch the diadem as another one of their smuggling operations."

"Is that so?" said Delacourt, flitting cold eyes over the French trio. "How unfortunate that their rendezvous finally ends here for them." He briefly glanced at Elizabeth. "For all of them."

"I swear I don't know any of them," she cried. "Please, sir, you have to believe me! I beg of you."

When she found no sympathy from the officials, she turned to me.

I scrutinized her bright, fervent eyes that fixed mine. "Perhaps we could reconsider her statement."

"If there even was a statement to consider."

"But perhaps –"

"Miss Valentine," Delacourt said frostily. "While we are obliged to your small assistance with decoding the earlier telegram, I must ask you to stop with this insufferable interference, and leave the rest in our capable hands."

Insufferable interference?

I balled my fist up as Lestrade headed inside the showroom to restore the diadem to its proper place. When he emerged outside and turned to leave with Delacourt, he paused. A resigned sigh escaped his lips.

"Though you shouldn't even have been here, Miss Valentine, seeing as it is rather late, are you in need of someone to accompany you back to the manor?"

I sniffed. "I am exceedingly grateful for your offer, Inspector, but my butler Felix shall see to it instead. I left him near the corner before I came here."

"Very, well," Lestrade said in a dismissive tone. "In that case, we'll take our leave, Miss Valentine. And take word not to foolishly interfere next time."

As usual, the Yard only took me seriously when it suited their agenda. I clicked my tongue and watched the little party fade in the distance. The girl stared at her cuffs, her face visibly perturbed, until they turned the corner. Only then did she chance a glance over her shoulder and beseech me, her lips mouthing a word so unmistakable.

Help.

Once she disappeared from sight, I returned inside the showroom and frowned to myself. Something about this simple thievery attempt was quite off. Pressing my fingers against the glass display, I committed the diadem to memory. Framed in silver, it was elegantly inlaid with a dozen tiny gems: diamond, sapphire, emerald, moonstone, amethyst, aquamarine, garnet, sardonyx, ruby, topaz, opal, and zircon.

Expensive though it was, it certainly wasn't the priciest item in the showroom, and Elizabeth Adler certainly wasn't in any need of coin. Her shoes had sported a most recognizable pattern—beige and brown stripes with quatrefoils, topped with the Louis Vuitton monogram, LV—and her evening dress came from another luxury brand, House of Worth. Moreover, her accent spoke of If my deductions proved correct, the young lady hailed from England's High Society and had no real need to engage in this petty sort of pilfering.

Then, why did she engage?

I paused, my theorizing interrupted by a shadow that loomed behind me. It grew larger on the floor until it finally converged with my own.

"Well, you sure took your time."

I turned around. A tall, elegant young man eased in from the darkness, his pale face spotlit by a wisp of moonlight.

"I sincerely apologize for the delay, Miss Valentine," said Felix, dusting the shoulders of his butler uniform. "I had gotten a bit caught up eliminating the rats scurrying about. I trust I haven't missed anything of importance."

"Not particularly. Just some theft. It turned out to be some girl with a queer disposition who I fear might not be altogether there. She genuinely believes herself to be innocent despite the little fact I had caught her red-handed."

"Is that so? How curious."

"Yes…curious, though not as much as the scene that followed." I looked Felix straight in the eye and lowered my voice. "Three men, encumbered with restraints, bumbling like a pack of imbeciles. They all said some sort of horrid monster came upon them."

"A monster?" said Felix, his tone startled. "My, how frightful."

"Quite so. In any case…" I held up the long, thin chain that had bounded the men in place and deposited it into Felix's gloved hand. "I believe this belongs to you."

Felix chuckled as he reattached the chain back to his pocket watch. "I am much obliged, Miss Valentine."

My lips curled in a smile. "Come, Felix. Let us return to the manor. I've had enough staying awake at this ungodly hour–"

A deafening crash ripped through the air. I wheeled around, and panic frosted my skin. A blizzard of glass shards hurtled through midair. Before I could even think to shield my eyes, a band of steel encircled my waist. I grasped a fistful of Felix's long overcoat as he brought me to the floor. The glass showered down upon us, its discordant tinkling filling our ears. When all else tapered to silence, only the sound of my shallow breathing remained.

Felix hovered above me, his green eyes glowing with a radiance of their own as they bore into mine.

"What the dickens just happened?"

"It would appear that someone has just broken the showroom windows."

"Thank you for that scintillating input," I snapped.

"Pardon my simple answer for so simple a question," said Felix. "In any case, are you alright, Miss Valentine?"

Other than a nick on my finger, I was quite alright, but the weight on top of me was considerable. A prickle of self-consciousness washed over me. At once, I uncurled my fingers from Felix's lapels.

"A bit flattened…but otherwise, fine."

"I apologize for that, Miss Valentine. It slipped my mind how delicate you are."

I ignored the subtle mockery in his tone and eyed him tetchily as he rose to his full height, unscathed, and ruffled the glass shards out of his slightly mussed, dark hair. Then, noticing a tear in his glove, he heaved a sigh. "Rather remarkable how my attire never seems to stay intact whenever I'm around you for too long, Miss Valentine."

I curled my lip in distaste. "Surely, your clothes are used to such trifles by now." As I took his gloved hand, he paused, noticing the nick on my fingertip that trickled a line of crimson. "It's fine –"

"Let me see, Miss Valentine." His voice was smooth as silk as he took my hand in his. I flinched.

His long, sculpted fingers traced my skin, inspecting the mark. A sudden warmth flooded my hand followed by the coolness of his satin gloves. I stole a discrete glance at him, and my breath stilled. Felix's lips pursed taut; his dark eyes gleamed. Thinking it was my mere imagination, I narrowed my eyes for a closer look, but before I could be certain, he released my hand. The broken patch of skin was mended.

"There you are, Miss Valentine. Do be more careful next time."

Despite his customary manner, an odd lilt colored his tone. Dismissing my paranoia, I forced an unsteady nod and flitted past him to the shattered window. Retrieving a magnifying glass from my coat, I examined the windowsill, but found nothing apart from a long, flaxen hair—undoubtedly belonging to Elizabeth.

Sticking my head out the window, I squinted into the inky night skies when something –pink and fluttering –caught my attention. I picked up the bit from the cobblestone pavement and scrutinized it through the lens. A flower petal?

Stuffing it into my coat, I inspected the area once again to find something more of use. A hint of footprint, mud stain, the object that had broken the glass…anything.

"There's nothing else here," I grumbled.

Felix didn't reply, his attention so honed on the glass shards littered around his feet. They cracked with each step of his polished shoes. When he bent under a counter, I gave a start. There, underneath a shard, lay a scrap of paper.

"How peculiar," Felix murmured.

"And what may I ask is so peculiar?"

"Perhaps you ought to see for yourself, Miss Valentine."

He held out the scrap to me, and my gaze swiveled at handwritten words on the front.

"That's...my name." I felt my brows crease as I stared at the handwritten words. 'Daphne Holmes Valentine.'

"Indeed," said Felix in a low voice. "But that is hardly the curious part."

When I turned over the scrap, I realized why.

'Dec 12th

1325 205125718113. 791812 9141415351420. 2085 71135 919 16151520

25152118 522518 231203862112 61895144,

- 7891011 12'

Another blasted cipher.

I studied the string of numbers that followed today's date and tried to decrypt the first word, '1325'. If the numbers corresponded to the alphabets, 1=A, 3=C, 2=B, and 5=E. But upon spelling 1325 out, I realized my decryption proved incorrect –unless 'acbe' existed in the English dictionary.

I considered it again. Perhaps the message consisted of double digits as well. In that case, if '13' referred to 'M', and '25' to 'Y'…

My.

"Felix, a quill," I ordered.

Felix promptly retrieved one from his overcoat and watched me in silence as I marked up the paper like a tempest, fervently decoding word after word. In minutes, I had the entire message, save the last line.

"Well?" prompted Felix.

"She was telling the truth," I whispered darkly. "Someone is playing me, Felix. Take a look for yourself."

Felix leaned close, his irises glowing once more as he read the message aloud.

'Dec 12th

My telegram. Girl innocent. The game is afoot.

Your ever watchful friend,

-7891011 12'

Author's Note: I'm a notorious outliner and follow a 40-50 outline I wrote for this story last yr. This story is a complex mystery with a romance subplot so that's where this fic is headed. Sherlock makes an appearance in later chapters. My goal in writing this was to create something unique, something that retained the typical Sherlockian elements (deductions, ciphers, chemistry, etc) but combined those with paranormal elements. In any case, do let me know what you think so far. Your reviews/feedback is always much appreciated ^^