Chapter 3

"Elementary, My Dear Holmes"

I picked the lock to the old flat using a few bobby pins I had found and slowly entered. I was silent as I crept up those seventeen steps, easing my way into the drawing room without taking a breath. No one home? Perfect.

I was seated in a plush armchair and playing with a skull when they returned, and I must say I rather enjoyed the look of shock that flickered across the consulting detective's face while the doctor nearly keeled over in faint. "Mister Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Hamish Watson, I presume?"

"Oh, don't bother going for the revolver," I chuckled as Watson's hand reached for the pistol resting on the end kitchen table. "You wouldn't shoot even if you held it in your hands. The good doctor's too much of a nurturer for that."

"I've killed people," he stated firmly, and I grinned.

"Well, so have I!" I exclaimed, throwing the skull into the air with a laugh and catching it again. "Join the club, Doctor. Now, Mister Holmes, can you tell me where you got this piece from? I daresay, I think I know this fellow. He was a good friend of mine from the asylum. Well, when I say friend… Anyways, they called him Psycho Steve. Say, did you know it was possible to murder seven people with a plastic fork? I learned a lot from Steve…"

"The things you learn," Watson remarked dryly, catching the skull as I tossed it to him and turned my attention to the detective glaring daggers at me.

I leaned forward in my seat, clasping my hands together as I asked eagerly, "Now, would you like to go first, or should I?"

"Ladies first…" he murmured thoughtfully, circling me like a vulture around its prey. I paid it no mind.

"Well, your clothes are wet but only the elbow, meaning you were leaning on something with your arm propped up. Now I would think outside, but, no, it hasn't rained in this portion of London. There's a faint smell of bourbon about you so I would say you were at a bar. Now you aren't one to drink by what I've heard so you must have been on a case."

I grinned as I was given an even more threatening glare. "So I was right! Splendid! Now let's continue, shall we? Doctor Watson came with you as a back-up, yet he left his revolver here. Why? If he was working on a case with you, of course he would bring his military issued pistol! It's a common defense. Well, obviously he hadn't planned on helping you. He was going on a date, and you tagged along again!"

"How do you know so much about us?" His voice was cold and calculating, yet there was curious tone beneath it.

"Elementary, my dear Holmes! It was really a rather simple deduction," I stated simply, loving how irked the two men were becoming. "Now would you care to hear about the doctor's date? Oh, of course you would. Long, shoulder length brown hair. Crimson lipstick. About five foot seven. Another teacher? Really, Doctor, pick something more exciting for a change."

"Is that it?"

"No, not at all, my dear Holmes! She wore a fine red dress with sequins and a white jacket along with a necklace of fake pearls. How's that?"

"You're quite the intelligent one," he remarked simply before nearly snarling, "My turn."

He gave me a quick look-over. "You've been on the run."

"Told by my shoes and probably the near broken jawbone along with the bruise forming beneath my left eye."

"Correct. You've been firing a gun recently."

"Gun residue on my hands. Next?"

"You were locked away for quite some time."

"My pale complexion and the bruising on my wrists. Give me something more complicated."

"You've been strangled."

"Yep! Yesterday morning."

"You seek my help."

"No schist, Sherlock. Now sit down before I change my mind and just decide to kill you both," I said simply, waving for them to grab a seat.

So I explained everything to them. I told them of how my parents paid to have me locked away. I told them how I learned to fake my being in the cell when I was really in the headmaster's office, reading and gaining as much knowledge of possible. I told them of my escape a mere two days ago, and I told them of how I was now a fugitive across the country.

To put it lightly, I was surprised to find their not running to the phone and dialing up Scotland Yard.

"Sooooo…" I drawled out, tapping my fingers against the arm of my seat without uncertainty. "Will ya help me?"

"Help you with what? Revenge on Parkhurst or finding your parents?" Holmes questioned simply, and I grinned.

"Both, of course."

"I was so hoping you'd say that. Do you have any clue as to who you really are?"

"None whatsoever. I do know, however, that they left me at Parkhurst on exactly

September twenty-ninth, 1999, a mere day after I was born."

"September twenty-ninth? That's today," Watson pointed out, whereas Holmes and I

merely glared at him for a bit at the absurdly obvious remark.

"Nooooooo… You know what? I thought today was April first! That would explain the idiocy in this world at the least," I remarked sarcastically before groaning, "I've been out of Parkhurst for only a couple days now, and all I've seen is stupidity. Mister Holmes, how do you bear it? I'm beginning to think the insane are brighter! No offense to you, Doctor. You seem near the brightest of these pigheaded fools."

Doctor Watson didn't seem to find it a compliment, but he smiled just the same as he stood, patting my shoulder lightly. "Well, for what's it worth, happy late birthday. Care for a coffee or tea?"

"I've never had either. Surprise me," I grinned.

"You're not such a bad thing; are you?" he murmured, more to himself than me. "Just a bit erratic, but good hearted none the less."

"Whatever helps ya sleep at night, Doc."

"Let me ask you something."

I felt his hand rest on my shoulder, and I looked up in confusion. "Yeah?"

"You said you killed men. These were in your escape, right?"

I gave a fake gasp. "Why, I'm hurt! Thinking little old me would kill in cold blood."

I grinned at the chuckle that escaped his throat, his ruffling my already tousled onyx hair. I lost my smile, however, upon meeting eyes with the detective again.

"What?" I asked defiantly. "I'm not allowed to be happy? Here, pass me Steve's head, and I'll go back to the sadistic creature I was a few minutes ago."

"Don't touch my skull."

"Well, alright then, Mister Snappy-Pants. Can I touch Steve's skull then?"

I stopped at the look he gave me, my instantly retracting my statement. "Okay, so the great Sherlock Holmes isn't one for puns. I can work with that. What did the detective say to the corpse-"

Once again, he glared at me.

"Okay, okay, I get it. Yeesh. Hey, Doc, is he always like this?"

"Mostly."

"You poor soul."

"I don't mind it," Watson said simply, setting a cup of tea in my hands. "He's different; that's all. Now careful. It's hot."

"I like the way you think!" I grinned. "See if the rest of the world thought like that, I wouldn't be in this predicament. The world needs more like you, Doc."

He smiled, finally taking one of my remarks as a compliment. "Well, thank you."

"The world could also use a few more like us-" I gestured to Mister Snappy-Pants. "-too, though. I mean, we've got what? Three people on this earth who can actually think? That's kind of sad."

"Three?"

"Oh, now Mister Snappy-Pants wants to talk to me." I rolled my eyes. "Yes three. You've a brother; don't you?"

"How do you know about Mycroft?"

"I told you. I researched everything I could in Parkhurst. You don't think I would learn about the great detective's elder brother?"

"Yes… Yes, I suppose."

"Oh, come now; spare a smile, Mister Holmes. It's one thing to be stoic, but that gives you no reason to glare."

"You-" He jabbed a finger in my chest as he got up. "-give me every reason to."

"Well, what'd I do? Geez, you crack a few jokes, and you get the third degree-"

"It's simply not possible that anyone could have this much intellect at your age," he said simply, bending over to look me in the eye. "However, once you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

"Gosh, you're tall."

"And you're short."

"Touché. Say, I see your foils on the mantel; do you fence?"

"I thought you'd never ask."