Sherlock was poking through tents while everyone was off in the training field, seeing if there was anything interesting in the soldier's belongings. Most of it was standard fare- a little extra rations, armor they weren't using for the drill, even letters or portraits of family members for the wealthier trainees. Sherlock slipped out of Donovan's tent with a knowing smirk on his face, glancing around to see if anyone had seen the movement of the tent flap.

Lady Anthea was walking in his direction, but her eyes were studying her ever-present notes. Sherlock turned to lift the flap of Sebastian's tent when the lady spoke.

"I can see you, you know."

Sherlock paused, turning his head to see if she was looking at him. She was. "Oh?"

"You're invisible to everyone else," Anthea continued, smiling pleasantly, "I'm just able to see your kind."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "And you're-"

"Human," Anthea confirmed.

"Than I highly doubt-"

"I have this," Anthea replied, drawing a pendant from underneath her collar. Sherlock scrutinized the silver piece, his eyes memorizing the exact positioning of the silver whorls. "What do you call yourself?"

"Sherlock Holmes," he replied. The name was really for effect, he had been called many things, but it was the most recent and he did like the way it sounded.

Anthea looked surprised, than pleased. "Oh. Lovely."

"You've heard of me?" Sherlock asked, pleased with himself.

Anthea's eyes were back on her book. "I've heard all about you. So Sherringford is a Hooper after all, if you're attached to him."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "How did you know about that?"

Anthea smiled brightly. "Your archenemy told me."

"So I was right," Sherlock said, absolutely not pouting. "The King is the same Mycroft."

"Be glad I found you," Anthea replied. "We have reason to believe there's a double agent in this company, and since no one had ever heard of a the young master Hooper, we thought Sherringford had stolen his enlistment papers. I was ordered to have him investigated."

Sherlock frowned. "Mycroft is worried about a company of trainees being infiltrated? Is he actually losing the war?"

"We haven't been engaged in any battles yet," Anthea explained. "We don't know the bulk of Prince Moriarty's army."

"I haven't heard of Prince Moriarty," Sherlock said thoughtfully.

"Neither did we, until our eastern walls were burned to the ground overnight. No one's seen the man's army- he's like a ghost."

"Must be driving Mycroft mad not to have his usually unholy advantage," Sherlock mused, grinning gleefully.

"And how's your hundred years in the country been?" Anthea asked lightly. Sherlock scowled, wondering just where his brother had found this woman. There was shouting from the training field, and men began to appear at the edge of the tents, wearily trudging towards the mess tent.

"Well I'd love to stay and chat, but I'd hate to make the men see you talking to thing air. Until next time, Lady Anthea." Sherlock gave a small, mocking bow, before he turned on his heel and disappeared behind a row of tents. He pretended he couldn't hear Lady Anthea chuckling.

He spent the rest of the afternoon testing how far away from camp he could go (which wasn't very far, he could barely make it to the small pond about fifty yards from the camp's border. He returned to Molly's tent, raising an eyebrow when he found her inside, smiling brightly to herself.

"You seem happy," Sherlock commented, dropping onto her pallet. She jumped a bit, still not used to his dramatic entrances, but only nodded when she saw who it was.

"Apparently climbing up a 'dead tree' is all I needed to be a man," Molly replied. "Anderson actually invited me to sit with his group for meals."

"Is that the one trying to grow a beard?" Sherlock asked, making a face. "He looks like a woodsman."

"And how has your day been?" Molly asked, blissfully ignoring him.

"Interesting," Sherlock conceded before sitting up so he could look at her properly. "What have they told you about Prince Moriarty?"

"What, the man who attacked our borders?" Molly asked, giving him a slightly bewildered look. "He's a disinherited prince from a few countries away who wants to take over. We're fighting for the King and the country."

"The King will be here long after this kingdom has been dissolved," Sherlock said, unimpressed. "And that's all you need to lay down your life? A few hazy details before you've committed yourself to war?"

"We can't all be immortal geniuses who control magic," Molly said, rolling her eyes. "It's a bit difference for us lowly humans."

"Shouldn't you be too tired for sarcasm? The captain worked you hard enough?"

Molly seemed about to continue, but there was a familiar clearing of the throat from outside the tent.

"Sherringford," the captain's voice said, patient and just a bit suspicious as it came in through the flaps, "Who are you talking to?"

Sherlock quickly shook his head when Molly glanced at him- no, he wasn't invisible or unheard at the moment, because he didn't think to do so inside the tent. Stupid, stupid, stupid! People do love to gossip, they would have asked questions if there was an unfamiliar voice in Molly's tent, her alto ego had been such a sensation ever since she arrived-

Sherlock quickly strode out of the tent, leaving Molly to scramble after him. When the captain saw him, his eyes narrowed. He had never seen this man anywhere near his camp before, and Sherlock suspected John prided himself on knowing some detail about every man he trained.

"Who is this?" he asked, but Sherlock responded before Molly could put her foot in her mouth again.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'm Sherringford's guardian, his parents wanted me to look after him," he replied, smiling at him. "And you must be Captain John Watson."

"Yes," John said after a moment. "It's very nice you're trying to follow Sir Hooper's wishes, but you can't just hang about the camp doing nothing but watching him."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on it. I understand one of your doctors had to quit?"

John raised an eyebrow. "You're a doctor?"

"I can heal, yes," Sherlock replied, which was near enough to the truth. "I come recommended, if you don't want to trust my honor. I believe Lady Anthea is staying with the company?"

"She'll recommend you?" John asked doubtfully.

"Oh, I'm sure she'd love for me to accompany you to the King's City after training is done," Sherlock replied, very much hoping Molly wasn't assigned to guard the castle once they arrived. The last thing he wanted was Mycroft sending Molly off on different assignments just to force Sherlock to do some work.

"Right," John said after a moment. "Okay. I'll introduce you to everyone else in the morning. In the mean time, where are you staying?" He glanced at Molly's tent, then back at the two of them. "Are you-"

"It's not like that!" Molly blurted out, terrified that John would figure out her secret. "I mean, he was just popping in for a chat, he's not actually spending the night!"

"Sherringford," John said gently, as Sherlock rolled his eyes, trying to will her quiet. "Whatever you do after hours, as long as you obey my orders, is fine. It's all fine."

"Well," Sherlock said, trying to subtly herd Molly into the tent before she said something stupid, "I will see you in the morning, John."

"Captain," he corrected. Even Lady Anthea didn't call him by his first name.

"Good night," came Sherlock's bored reply. John sighed before he walked away from Sherringford's tent, unable to shake the feeling that Sherlock was a bit more than he had bargained for.