.·´¨`·»¦«· To Catch A Thief ·»¦«·´¨`·.
Chapter One
Onyx
My name is Nancy Aurora Harland and I am a college student from Brooklyn, NY. That's Nancy to my parents, Aurora to my friends, and Onyx to my co-workers. Not a person would every connect quiet, easy-going Nancy with fiery Onyx, the greatest free-lance thief in the modern world. Which was, of course, the point. Onyx is a trade name, earned in my early years because of my calling card, tiny onyx figurines. I also had a bad habit of going over my biography in my head before a job. Honestly, by now, I sound like a bad movie. Anyway, moving on.
My partner Joseph "Jack" Hunde, trade name Wes, derived from his favorite weapon, a Smith & Wesson revolver, pointed out a particular exhibit and I murmured a reply. Our current commission was to steal the largest uncultured pearl in the world. The pearl was traveling with an precious gem exhibit, and was now at the British Museum. Most people in our profession would have planned an elaborate break during the night, but not us.
We came along side the pearl's display case. The guard examined and dismissed us within a second. We were playing at being the proper young lovers, more interested in each other than various crystallized silica. The guard was a discreet distance from the actual display case and the museum patrons and school groups generally obscured his view. A large diamond was actually the centerpiece of the exhibit so the pedestal was clear of viewers.
We huddled close to the stand, and under the cover of our bodies, Wes swiftly removed a piece of the glass. I waited a moment to be sure that no one had noticed this. Then I switched the pearl with a rather cunningly disguised golf ball. Wes replaced the glass, securing it with a piece of invisible tape. The real pearl found its way into my jacket pocket. The whole procedure had taken about thirty seconds, and all the rest of the world saw was two lovers getting a little closer.
A wandering security guard sent us along with a knowing smile and wink. Wes and I toured the rest of the exhibit slowly, staying in character the entire time. We meandered out of the museum a half-hour later, arm in arm, the pearl still securely in my pocket.
"That was too easy." I chuckled.
"A million pounds for a hour's work with a couple of pounds worth of equipment. Luv, that was bloody brilliant!" Jack twirled and dipped me, in a maneuver more suited to the dance floor than the sidewalk.
I laughed, feeling the energy rush that always came after a successful job. "I may just retire after this." I said dreamily. "You know I always wanted to have my own business. Half a million pounds is a lot of overhead."
"Really?" Wes asked. "Is the great Onyx actually going straight? Heavens, the world must becoming to an end!"
"Stop!" I shoved him and he made a great show of staggering away. "I mean it. Of course, I would still keep my hand in."
"Good." Wes said with mock seriousness. "Guys like us don't go straight, we just get sloppy."
"Hah! I am ze greatest theef in ze vorld! I vould never ve svloppy!" I faked a horrible accent and Wes laughed.
His laughter faded suddenly, as if someone had turned down a radio. The already darkening sky suddenly became black as a wave of dizziness and nausea threatened to overcome me. I staggered against a convenient light pole and doubled over in an effort to get the blood back to my brain.
"Whoa. That was weird." I said to Wes apologetically, but no one answered. I looked up sharply. Wes was nowhere to be seen and the storefronts we had been passing had suddenly become Victorian style houses. A horse-drawn carriage rattled by, shaking me out of my stunned state. The street had seemed deserted, but now that I looked again, I saw people walking around in clothing that matched the houses. A couple passed me, giving me a strange look. After they passed, their intent whispers and pointed looks indicated that they thought I was dressed just as strangely as they were. I guess they had a point. A lace shirt, black slacks and a leather duster were kinda weird, given the setting.
Thief's instinct told me to get under cover, and I did, taking refuge in the shadows of an alley. Several possibilities for my sudden shift in time and location occurred to me, but because of my love of science fiction and fantasy novels, most of them were highly unlikely. Then again, I did seem as if I had traveled back in time.
" Well, well. Lookey 'ere." A sinister voice shook me out of my thoughts. I whirled around to face a man who was a caricature of a burglar. Dirty face and hands, rumpled clothing, stocking hat, leering Cockney accent, all he was missing was a bag with a dollar sign on it. "We got oursselves a visit'r."
I drew myself up to my full height and matched him glare for glare. I said nothing, which seemed to throw him off a bit.
"Well, then mum. We be sent ta take ya ta 'he Master's 'ouse." He grinned at me, taking a step closer, like a feral dog.
I stepped back, dragged up my best British accent and replied. "I won't be going anywhere, thank you." I drawled.
All of his pretense at friendliness dropped, and he growled at me. "You'll be comin' wit us if we hafta drag ya to the Master's." Two more men melted out of the shadows behind Dog. They looked like stronger, taller copies of Dog except for one had brown hair and the other blond. "I gots me orders mum, and I'll carry 'em through. Wot's mor is, I won't waste th' hours I spent waitin' for ya neither."
Brown and Blond dove for me at the same time. I manage to dodge one but not the other. I kicked Brown in the stomach and rolled away, jumping to my feet. Dog, however, had also joined the fray and grabbed me by the arm before I saw him.
"Stop!" A loud voice echoed through the tiny alley.
Dog's grip on my arm was so tight I knew I was going to have bruises. With the distraction of two strangers appearing at the end of the alley, he loosened his grip a bit. I stamped down on his foot, catching his instep. Dog howled with pain and released me. At the same time, Blond dove at me, slamming me against the wall. My head hit the wall with an audible crack, and for a moment, I saw stars.
Once my vision had cleared, I found myself lying on the alley ground. The two strangers had chased off my attackers and were returning to check on me. Several thoughts flashed through my mind at once, foremost being that these men would have a lot of questions and I had zero answers. I shut my eyes and feigned unconsciousness.
"Well, Watson?" The voice from before asked quietly.
I felt a hand examine the lump on my head and tried not to flinch. "She's got a concussion at the very least. We should bring her to the flat and try and bring her round."
"Capital idea, Watson." One of them picked me up and carried me into a building, presumably 'the flat.' It couldn't have been very far because in less than a minute I was lying on a very comfortable couch.
I risked opening my eyes. The room was small but comfortable, with books and newspapers piled high on every available surface. Two armchairs sat next to a cheerful fire. In one sat a tall man with dark brown hair and a weird look on his face. The weird thing about it was that there was no look on his face, like a statue. The other chair was meant for the man who was pouring a drink.
"It's only a concussion, she'll come around in a few moments." He said as he replaced the decanter.
"Strange," The other muttered, mainly to himself. "She presents many contradictions. Her hands have no calluses, yet she defended herself as one accustomed to fighting. Her clothes, though strange, are well made, suggesting wealth. But we find her fending off toughs in an alley. I wonder…" The voice trailed off. A moment later he spoke again. "I suppose I shall get all my answers soon enough, eh Watson."
"I imagine she has a strange story to tell, Holmes."
Brother, you have no idea. I thought to myself. Then it clicked. Holmes. Watson. Victorian London. Uh Oh.
The Sherlock Holmes? The Dr. Watson? Elementary, my dear Watson and all that? The sad thing was that meeting two of the greatest fictional literary characters of all time wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened to me today.
In my shock, I forgot to close my eyes again. Watson turned around and approached me with the drink.
"Here my dear, drink up." I took the glass. The scent of brandy rose from the dark amber liquid. I tasted it slowly, trying to rally my thoughts.
When I didn't say anything, Holmes addressed me. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my colleague Dr. John Watson. We have had the pleasure of rescuing you."
I nearly smiled at the idea of me needing rescuing. "My name is Aurora." I said simply, careful to maintain my British accent. "Thank you for your help."
Holmes frowned ever so slightly at my introduction. "Forgive me inquisitiveness but what were you doing down there?"
"Just walking." I said, telling as little of the truth as possible. Holmes' frown deepened. He obviously wasn't used to having to deal with someone like me.
"You're being very evasive."
"Thank you."
Now he was really frustrated. "Madam, do you have anything to hide?"
"Nothing in particular." The weight of the largest pearl in the world was now very heavy in my pocket.
"Then why do you not answer?"
"Why should I?" I retorted.
Holmes sighed and slouched back in his chair. "Americans." He muttered.
"What?" Watson and I both exclaimed. He had been following the entire conversation without a word. I was glad that my accent was good enough to fool him.
"You will never pass as a true Briton with that accent of yours." Holmes chuckled, pleased to have the upper hand again.
"Yeah, well it would help if you didn't blow my cover." I snapped back, letting every drop of my Brooklyn accent shine forth. I think I shocked them both a bit there, Watson especially.
"Well!" Watson said, but seemed to have no idea how to follow that up.
"Is this the latest fashion in New York?" Holmes asked sardonically. I glanced down at my outfit and I actually flushed. Holmes really knew how to get under your skin.
"It's a bit ahead of its time." I said, slipping easily back into a London accent.
Holmes said nothing. For a minute, he sat in silence. Not to be out-cooled I did the same. The tension slowly built until Watson broke it by standing.
"Leaving us so soon, Doc?" I asked lightly.
"It's getting late, I must return home." He said, taking his hat. "Goodbye, Holmes. Miss Aurora." And he walked out.
"I think I scared off your friend there." I chuckled.
"Watson is a man of action, not of thought." Holmes replied. "He would rather be taking you down to Scotland Yard. I'm not so sure that I shouldn't do just that."
"Oh, you could try. I wouldn't make any guarantees though."
"No, I wouldn't." He fell silent. I interrupted him before he could get all broody again.
"Look you might as well tell me right now whether or not you're going to throw me out on my…" I stopped myself before I said 'my ass' but I think Holmes knew where I was going.
"I suppose I could trust you in Watson's old room." He said thoughtfully. He looked at me sharply as if he thought I might pull a gun on him at any moment.
"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but if I wanted you dead, you would be." I said matter-of-factly.
A few minutes later, I was in the guest room. It had the feel of a room that had been left empty for some time. Holmes had written something and sent off a boy named Billy with a note to the newspapers while I listened from the keyhole. I assumed it was a notice for anyone who knew me to come and get me.
The house had been silent for an hour now. The pearl lay in hiding beneath one of the floorboards I'd managed to pull up. The rug in the room covered the loose part. I lay on the neatly made bed and tried to organize my thoughts.
Eventually, my thoughts turned to Wes. He had been with me when whatever it was had happened. Was he in this time too? Was he still in the 21st century searching for me? He was probably still standing on that street corner, trying figure out how I had disappeared into thin air.
Being a thief, I usually stayed up half the night and slept half the day. But the effects of being transported backwards across an entire century were catching up with me. Next thing I knew, there was sunlight streaming in the windows and a soft tapping at the door.
********************************************************************
Question, comments, critisicms, complaints, can be directed to the review button there. Please review!
.·´¨`·»¦«·Kerowyn·»¦«·´¨`·.
Chapter One
Onyx
My name is Nancy Aurora Harland and I am a college student from Brooklyn, NY. That's Nancy to my parents, Aurora to my friends, and Onyx to my co-workers. Not a person would every connect quiet, easy-going Nancy with fiery Onyx, the greatest free-lance thief in the modern world. Which was, of course, the point. Onyx is a trade name, earned in my early years because of my calling card, tiny onyx figurines. I also had a bad habit of going over my biography in my head before a job. Honestly, by now, I sound like a bad movie. Anyway, moving on.
My partner Joseph "Jack" Hunde, trade name Wes, derived from his favorite weapon, a Smith & Wesson revolver, pointed out a particular exhibit and I murmured a reply. Our current commission was to steal the largest uncultured pearl in the world. The pearl was traveling with an precious gem exhibit, and was now at the British Museum. Most people in our profession would have planned an elaborate break during the night, but not us.
We came along side the pearl's display case. The guard examined and dismissed us within a second. We were playing at being the proper young lovers, more interested in each other than various crystallized silica. The guard was a discreet distance from the actual display case and the museum patrons and school groups generally obscured his view. A large diamond was actually the centerpiece of the exhibit so the pedestal was clear of viewers.
We huddled close to the stand, and under the cover of our bodies, Wes swiftly removed a piece of the glass. I waited a moment to be sure that no one had noticed this. Then I switched the pearl with a rather cunningly disguised golf ball. Wes replaced the glass, securing it with a piece of invisible tape. The real pearl found its way into my jacket pocket. The whole procedure had taken about thirty seconds, and all the rest of the world saw was two lovers getting a little closer.
A wandering security guard sent us along with a knowing smile and wink. Wes and I toured the rest of the exhibit slowly, staying in character the entire time. We meandered out of the museum a half-hour later, arm in arm, the pearl still securely in my pocket.
"That was too easy." I chuckled.
"A million pounds for a hour's work with a couple of pounds worth of equipment. Luv, that was bloody brilliant!" Jack twirled and dipped me, in a maneuver more suited to the dance floor than the sidewalk.
I laughed, feeling the energy rush that always came after a successful job. "I may just retire after this." I said dreamily. "You know I always wanted to have my own business. Half a million pounds is a lot of overhead."
"Really?" Wes asked. "Is the great Onyx actually going straight? Heavens, the world must becoming to an end!"
"Stop!" I shoved him and he made a great show of staggering away. "I mean it. Of course, I would still keep my hand in."
"Good." Wes said with mock seriousness. "Guys like us don't go straight, we just get sloppy."
"Hah! I am ze greatest theef in ze vorld! I vould never ve svloppy!" I faked a horrible accent and Wes laughed.
His laughter faded suddenly, as if someone had turned down a radio. The already darkening sky suddenly became black as a wave of dizziness and nausea threatened to overcome me. I staggered against a convenient light pole and doubled over in an effort to get the blood back to my brain.
"Whoa. That was weird." I said to Wes apologetically, but no one answered. I looked up sharply. Wes was nowhere to be seen and the storefronts we had been passing had suddenly become Victorian style houses. A horse-drawn carriage rattled by, shaking me out of my stunned state. The street had seemed deserted, but now that I looked again, I saw people walking around in clothing that matched the houses. A couple passed me, giving me a strange look. After they passed, their intent whispers and pointed looks indicated that they thought I was dressed just as strangely as they were. I guess they had a point. A lace shirt, black slacks and a leather duster were kinda weird, given the setting.
Thief's instinct told me to get under cover, and I did, taking refuge in the shadows of an alley. Several possibilities for my sudden shift in time and location occurred to me, but because of my love of science fiction and fantasy novels, most of them were highly unlikely. Then again, I did seem as if I had traveled back in time.
" Well, well. Lookey 'ere." A sinister voice shook me out of my thoughts. I whirled around to face a man who was a caricature of a burglar. Dirty face and hands, rumpled clothing, stocking hat, leering Cockney accent, all he was missing was a bag with a dollar sign on it. "We got oursselves a visit'r."
I drew myself up to my full height and matched him glare for glare. I said nothing, which seemed to throw him off a bit.
"Well, then mum. We be sent ta take ya ta 'he Master's 'ouse." He grinned at me, taking a step closer, like a feral dog.
I stepped back, dragged up my best British accent and replied. "I won't be going anywhere, thank you." I drawled.
All of his pretense at friendliness dropped, and he growled at me. "You'll be comin' wit us if we hafta drag ya to the Master's." Two more men melted out of the shadows behind Dog. They looked like stronger, taller copies of Dog except for one had brown hair and the other blond. "I gots me orders mum, and I'll carry 'em through. Wot's mor is, I won't waste th' hours I spent waitin' for ya neither."
Brown and Blond dove for me at the same time. I manage to dodge one but not the other. I kicked Brown in the stomach and rolled away, jumping to my feet. Dog, however, had also joined the fray and grabbed me by the arm before I saw him.
"Stop!" A loud voice echoed through the tiny alley.
Dog's grip on my arm was so tight I knew I was going to have bruises. With the distraction of two strangers appearing at the end of the alley, he loosened his grip a bit. I stamped down on his foot, catching his instep. Dog howled with pain and released me. At the same time, Blond dove at me, slamming me against the wall. My head hit the wall with an audible crack, and for a moment, I saw stars.
Once my vision had cleared, I found myself lying on the alley ground. The two strangers had chased off my attackers and were returning to check on me. Several thoughts flashed through my mind at once, foremost being that these men would have a lot of questions and I had zero answers. I shut my eyes and feigned unconsciousness.
"Well, Watson?" The voice from before asked quietly.
I felt a hand examine the lump on my head and tried not to flinch. "She's got a concussion at the very least. We should bring her to the flat and try and bring her round."
"Capital idea, Watson." One of them picked me up and carried me into a building, presumably 'the flat.' It couldn't have been very far because in less than a minute I was lying on a very comfortable couch.
I risked opening my eyes. The room was small but comfortable, with books and newspapers piled high on every available surface. Two armchairs sat next to a cheerful fire. In one sat a tall man with dark brown hair and a weird look on his face. The weird thing about it was that there was no look on his face, like a statue. The other chair was meant for the man who was pouring a drink.
"It's only a concussion, she'll come around in a few moments." He said as he replaced the decanter.
"Strange," The other muttered, mainly to himself. "She presents many contradictions. Her hands have no calluses, yet she defended herself as one accustomed to fighting. Her clothes, though strange, are well made, suggesting wealth. But we find her fending off toughs in an alley. I wonder…" The voice trailed off. A moment later he spoke again. "I suppose I shall get all my answers soon enough, eh Watson."
"I imagine she has a strange story to tell, Holmes."
Brother, you have no idea. I thought to myself. Then it clicked. Holmes. Watson. Victorian London. Uh Oh.
The Sherlock Holmes? The Dr. Watson? Elementary, my dear Watson and all that? The sad thing was that meeting two of the greatest fictional literary characters of all time wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened to me today.
In my shock, I forgot to close my eyes again. Watson turned around and approached me with the drink.
"Here my dear, drink up." I took the glass. The scent of brandy rose from the dark amber liquid. I tasted it slowly, trying to rally my thoughts.
When I didn't say anything, Holmes addressed me. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my colleague Dr. John Watson. We have had the pleasure of rescuing you."
I nearly smiled at the idea of me needing rescuing. "My name is Aurora." I said simply, careful to maintain my British accent. "Thank you for your help."
Holmes frowned ever so slightly at my introduction. "Forgive me inquisitiveness but what were you doing down there?"
"Just walking." I said, telling as little of the truth as possible. Holmes' frown deepened. He obviously wasn't used to having to deal with someone like me.
"You're being very evasive."
"Thank you."
Now he was really frustrated. "Madam, do you have anything to hide?"
"Nothing in particular." The weight of the largest pearl in the world was now very heavy in my pocket.
"Then why do you not answer?"
"Why should I?" I retorted.
Holmes sighed and slouched back in his chair. "Americans." He muttered.
"What?" Watson and I both exclaimed. He had been following the entire conversation without a word. I was glad that my accent was good enough to fool him.
"You will never pass as a true Briton with that accent of yours." Holmes chuckled, pleased to have the upper hand again.
"Yeah, well it would help if you didn't blow my cover." I snapped back, letting every drop of my Brooklyn accent shine forth. I think I shocked them both a bit there, Watson especially.
"Well!" Watson said, but seemed to have no idea how to follow that up.
"Is this the latest fashion in New York?" Holmes asked sardonically. I glanced down at my outfit and I actually flushed. Holmes really knew how to get under your skin.
"It's a bit ahead of its time." I said, slipping easily back into a London accent.
Holmes said nothing. For a minute, he sat in silence. Not to be out-cooled I did the same. The tension slowly built until Watson broke it by standing.
"Leaving us so soon, Doc?" I asked lightly.
"It's getting late, I must return home." He said, taking his hat. "Goodbye, Holmes. Miss Aurora." And he walked out.
"I think I scared off your friend there." I chuckled.
"Watson is a man of action, not of thought." Holmes replied. "He would rather be taking you down to Scotland Yard. I'm not so sure that I shouldn't do just that."
"Oh, you could try. I wouldn't make any guarantees though."
"No, I wouldn't." He fell silent. I interrupted him before he could get all broody again.
"Look you might as well tell me right now whether or not you're going to throw me out on my…" I stopped myself before I said 'my ass' but I think Holmes knew where I was going.
"I suppose I could trust you in Watson's old room." He said thoughtfully. He looked at me sharply as if he thought I might pull a gun on him at any moment.
"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but if I wanted you dead, you would be." I said matter-of-factly.
A few minutes later, I was in the guest room. It had the feel of a room that had been left empty for some time. Holmes had written something and sent off a boy named Billy with a note to the newspapers while I listened from the keyhole. I assumed it was a notice for anyone who knew me to come and get me.
The house had been silent for an hour now. The pearl lay in hiding beneath one of the floorboards I'd managed to pull up. The rug in the room covered the loose part. I lay on the neatly made bed and tried to organize my thoughts.
Eventually, my thoughts turned to Wes. He had been with me when whatever it was had happened. Was he in this time too? Was he still in the 21st century searching for me? He was probably still standing on that street corner, trying figure out how I had disappeared into thin air.
Being a thief, I usually stayed up half the night and slept half the day. But the effects of being transported backwards across an entire century were catching up with me. Next thing I knew, there was sunlight streaming in the windows and a soft tapping at the door.
********************************************************************
Question, comments, critisicms, complaints, can be directed to the review button there. Please review!
.·´¨`·»¦«·Kerowyn·»¦«·´¨`·.