"Mr. Sherlock Holmes" the voice singsonged while tightening his grip around Sherlock's throat. "I will be rewarded well for this." Sherlock struggled against the fingers but this person was too strong. He began to see sparks around the edge of his vision. He began to black out. And then he was on the floor with dust all over him. Coughing violently, he raised himself up on his elbows and peered through the hazy air. There was a young man, a teenager grinning manically at him. The boy offered Sherlock his hand and at his hesitation, he rolled his eyes and pulled him up anyway.

"You could always say thank you," he drawled in a strong American accent. Sherlock frowned.

"Why would I do that?" The boy grinned again and leaned against the wall, twirling some kind of weapon expertly in his hand.

"I just saved your life." Sherlock looked at the dust covered ground.

"Yes. About that." He frowned. He was being choked just minutes ago. There should be a body at least if this boy had beaten the attacker. The boy laughed at his confusion and brushed his fingers through his blonde hair.

"Is Sherlock Holmes confused?" He taunted, "Does he not know the answer?" Sherlock glared at the boy.

"I know you had an unsatisfactory childhood, raised by a father who didn't really love you, I imagine. I know you have a girlfriend that you left behind when you left America last week. You miss her but won't contact her. Maybe your relationship isn't approved of or maybe you think she is too delicate for your line of work. And," Sherlock walked up to the boy. "I know you think you're something special." The boy's eyes widened briefly but then the arrogant grin returned.

"I am special. I don't imagine it." He pushed himself off the wall and examined Sherlock. "But right otherwise. The famous Sherlock Holmes really is as brilliant as they say." He smiled that irritating smile again. "Well. Brilliant for a Mundane anyway." Sherlock ignored the jibe.

"Who are you?" The boy placed a hand on his chest and mock gasped.

"You don't know me? I'm hurt." Sherlock just glared at him and he sighed.

"Fine. Jace Wayland slash Herondale slash Lightwood. Take your pick."

"What are you."

"Ooh you're quick." Jace winked. "I'm a Shadowhunter. I kill demons like the one about to kill you and look amazing while doing it."

"That was a demon." Sherlock considered it for a moment then he remembered what the demon had said. "Working for someone. Moriarty I imagine." Shock flitted across Jace's face but he quickly maintained his composure.

"Yes. Good, you know about James Moriarty. Saves us some explaining." Sherlock turned towards the door.

"Where are they?"

"Who?"

"Your backup." Sherlock said as though he were talking to a child.

"I don't have . . ."

"Yes you do." He crossed the room and scanned the space. Jace sighed.

"Fine." He turned to the corner. "Alec?" The shadows shimmered briefly then a tall thin boy, older than Jace but still young stepped towards them. He had intense blue eyes paired with coal black hair but Sherlock barely paid him any attention. Behind him, a man covered in glitter, fashionable scarves and spiky hair tipped with yet more glitter, followed. And yet, the clothes weren't the most startling thing about him. Below the hair, the man had quite yellow eyes. With slits for pupils. This man had cat eyes. For once, Sherlock was speechless.