Chapter 7: Party With My Enemies

Something every villain needs is an enemy.
A person who is actively adversed and hostile
to someone or something, often resulting in
opposition and engagement in antagonistic
activities from both parties.


"Okay," Lestrade said once the bag was secured to his back and the list of instructions was safely folded in the inside pocket. He preferred not to dwell too much in the contents of the bag behind him, lest he succumbed to the urge of ripping it off and forgo the mission altogether. That thing gave him the creeps. "I've gotta go." He said to the other two present in the room. Both of which shuffled uncomfortably in apprehension for the confrontation to come.

"What about me?" Molly was the one to speak first, her brown wide eyes looking at him in fear that he would ask her to accompany him. She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve in anxiety, as her mouth was pressed in a thin line. Greg stepped closer and placed a strong hand over her shoulder.

"No," He said, as he smiled encouragingly at the girl. "You should stay here with Mycroft in case the plan doesn't work." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realised that perhaps neither of them —including him— were ready to joke about the doom of the kingdom; specially if it involved danger to their friends.

Molly gasped, and her mouth opened in fright. "What? But-" She muttered, unsure on how to respond to the unexpected comment. Mycroft stood back, the fingers clutching the umbrella turning white at his hold.

Sensing the growing panic in the room, the rebel was quick to amend it. "It will." He promised, not entirely sure himself on whether he believed it. "Sherlock's plan." His hands gestured to the backpack strapped to his shoulders as he explained. He didn't even know what they were supposed to be doing, or why Sherlock thought it would help them; magic was beyond the understanding of most and somehow the violet-haired boy had found a way to make it work for him in a place were it wasn't only forbidden, but impossible. "Whatever it is, it will work." He said, his eyes earnest in making them share the trust in Sherlock's insane plans.

Molly smiled slightly and nodded, her chest slowing down as her breathing came back to a normal rhythm. Perhaps they didn't know the genius as he did, but witnessing what happened in John's coronation was enough. She arranged her jumper sleeves and made to leave now that her part was done, but just as she was about to cross the door she turned hastily back and, in an uncharacteristic spontaneous move, the brunette rushed to Lestrade and circled her small arms around his shoulders. Molly hugged him as if he was not going to return, and Greg thought that perhaps he should be more worried about that being the definite case. When she released him, her smile was a bit stiffer at the edges, but the rebel didn't have time to respond or even comment as she hasted out of the room this time and left him alone with the person who probably had the most to lose if this whole scheme was to blow up in their faces.

Greg waited a few seconds, unsure on how to break the tense atmosphere lingering over both their forms. "What happens if it doesn't work and she gets the wand?" He asked in an impulse. Pressing his lips immediately after as if to keep any other treacherous words trapped inside his mouth.

Mycroft twisted the umbrella and stared straight ahead, a detached tone as he answered. "Auradon gets run down by villains and the royal family most likely gets executed." Lestrade was completely aware that there was no way in which the ginger would be indifferent if that were to happen. He turned to watch the older man, feeling despair crush the tiny hopes they had of actually winning.

"So, not good." He muttered, a grimace on his face as he steeled himself to take the next steps to the door and face whatever the hell E. had prepared for them.

The king's advisor remained silent for a few more moments, as if contemplating the weight of the words he was about to utter. The rebel shifted in place as he awaited what he was sure would be something he didn't want to hear. "Lestrade." Mycroft started, his voice a touch softer than the usual stoic, rational tone he preferred. "It appears the security of the king and the kingdom now rests in your hands." He said, confirming Greg's previous apprehensions. "Yours and my brother's." The ginger added. Lestrade failed to know what to respond, empty promises would never cover up the fact of how uncertain their situation was. "Here are the keys." The ginger said, his icy blue eyes piercing through the other's soul as he hesitantly took them in his outstretched hand. "Make sure to bring everyone back before Cotillion."

With not much to say after that, Greg nodded and exited the room, with the the keys still tightly clutched in his palm. He hurried along the empty corridors and stepped out into the early morning wind. The sky was already turning blue and purple, the sun having broken the horizon for quite a few minutes already. The boy treaded in silence as he held onto the strap of the bag attached to his strong shoulders.

Just as he was about to turn the corner of the building and make a run into the woods to save himself some time, another figure appeared at the entrance. "Oh hey!" Janine said, her grinning face completely at odds with her disheveled appearance; Greg only spared a second to wonder the reason as to why she would be wandering around in her pyjamas at almost seven in the morning. "Have you seen Irene?" She asked, her arms crossed against the chilly breeze. "My date blew me off and-"

Lestrade hesitated, the drumming on his ears barely making it possible to continue hearing her explanation. "She went camping." He blurted out, grimacing as soon as the sentence was out and the girl's face turned confused. 'Great,' he thought. 'That sounds believable'.

True to form, Janine bit her lip and stared at him with a frown. "Camping?" She asked, a hint of disbelief on her lilting voice.

Greg supposed there was nothing more to do than to go down with it. "Yes." He replied, even if he knew how absurd it sounded even to his own ears. The boy smiled encouragingly, hoping she would buy it. He struggled to not draw attention to the backpack, and risk her asking questions about that too. If anybody else caught wind of this, John's life could be in serious danger.

However, Janine didn't seem very impressed by his efforts. "Irene-I-want-to-live-in-a-castle sleeping on the ground?" She asked, her face now relaying suspicion and her deep brown eyes narrowing. "With no place to plug in a hair dryer? The day before Cotillion?"

"You know how spontaneous she can be." He replied, laughing nervously and patting her shoulder to show camaraderie and try to shift the focus away from how ridiculous a notion it was.

"But-" Janine refuted, yet Lestrade was already backing away slowly, smiling innocently. She took two sure steps towards him, ready to follow through with her questionnaire despite not being sure she trusted any information that was being given to her at the moment.

"Listen, I've gotta go." He said, hurriedly moving as she stayed behind and finally gave up on getting to him. "Later!" Came the exclamation, as he heard the slapping of his heavy boots over the pavement while she grew smaller by the distance.

He was all but sprinting, turning his head back every time he could to make sure she was not behind him anymore. As he did this, Greg lost focus on the vision ahead, and collided forcefully with a body in front of him. The sight of a frowning Sally Donovan greeted him as he struggled to rearranged his clothes from the impact, she frowned up at him clothed in a royal fencing suit with a quiver of swords at her back.

He had a second to panic before she placed her hands over her hips and spoke. "I'm coming with you." She said, her stubborn eyes let him know it was in no way a question or a request.

Lestrade attempted to frown in faux confusion, but his wide eyes and heaving chest prevented him from appearing anywhere near casual that he knew there was almost no point in keeping up the act. "What?" He said. Chuckling as if she were being ridiculous. Sally, however, didn't appear very impressed. "I don't need swords at…" Greg said, but wilted as he realised he had no idea what to say next, and she would most probably not believe him any way no matter with what he came up.

"You're going to the isle to rescue John." She said, as Lestrade sighed in defeat, there would be no way to shake her off his back if she already knew what was happening. He figured she must've heard when they told Anderson, or otherwise Philip himself had blabbed about it. Both of which were not good at all. "Look, it's either you take me or I'm gonna have to speak with Lady Hudson about it." She said, a smirk already painted on her face while one of her eyebrows arched up. He was screwed, and she knew it; but as long as Mycroft didn't found out about it, he supposed taking her with him would be the best option.

"Okay, fine!" He said, as she cheered in triumph and took off running towards the path inside the forest. He was left standing there, confused as to exactly what happened and then attempting to keep up with her as they sprinted towards the docks.


The island was covered with grey clouds, heavier and thicker than the usual haze over the dome. If luck was on their side —which had stubbornly not been for quite a while— they would avoid the torrential rain that threatened to come down upon their heads. Irene crossed her arms and leaned back on the brick wall behind her. Lestrade was taking longer than anticipated to return with Lady Hudson's wand, and the wait was not only turning her anxious and worried, but had transformed Sherlock into a horror show of contrast. Still as a corpse one moment, —entranced by his own whirling thoughts of despair— and a rage monster the next. Irene hoped whatever he had planned would work, not only for the preservation of John's safety, the kingdom, and their life in it, but because she didn't know what would happen to Sherlock —or to anything in his proximity— if this didn't pan out as he wanted. If something bad were to happen to John Watson, she was quite sure no one else would survive the devastation the rebel would become.

After a few more moments of waiting, she saw a vehicle crossing the magical barrier on the bridge. At her gesture, Sherlock lifted his head and fixed his shinning gaze to the car, almost as if attempting to will it to hurry up. Once it had stopped on the parking place, the violet-haired approached and tapped his foot as Greg got out of the seat. Another figure exited the car at the other side.

"I'll get the swords." She said, throwing the trunk open and unloading a few swords from the back, as Irene stood back confused and Sherlock all but pounced on her.

"Donovan, what are you doing here?" He growled, his pale cheeks turning red from what The Woman could only assume was pure rage that she dared to involve herself in matters that were exclusively his and John's —without, of course, counting E. and her pirate crew, and his own allies, and the threat to the whole realm.— But in his eyes, all of that seemed to be inconsequential.

"Hello, freak." Sally responded, which didn't exactly help to ingratiate her with any of them, but the others just stood back as Sherlock glared from beneath his purple fringe. She huffed an unimpressed laugh, and the boy just grew more exasperated by it, he was already a bit raw as the hour of set confrontation grew near.

"She made me bring her." Lestrade added from behind them, as he took the swords and made to place them inside a quiver in order to carry them. Irene eyed the weapons and regarded Greg, as his eyebrows drew together while he watched the exchange of the others.

"If she's carrying swords I'm fine with it." Irene admitted, acknowledging their previous oversight at not planning for a combat. Her red lips pressed into a line as she sighed.

Sherlock appeared to have consumed the time he could waste arguing with her, and turned to leave; but just as he was approaching the others Donovan muttered something from behind the trunk's lid. "Good job getting the king captured." She said, and the other stopped dead in his path. The girl with indigo hair turned to Lestrade, he shared her look of worry as they watched how Sherlock's face changed.

"I didn't bring him here," He snarled as he turned. His tone venomous as she stared at him, only partially regretting her back-handed comment. "He came on his own and these idiots didn't stop him." The silver-gazed boy gestured to his friends, but neither of them found it very alarming; it was mainly Sally that needed to thread carefully if she didn't want her head bitten off. She wisely stayed silent after that.

After sparing her one last hateful glance, Sherlock turned around and scanned the faces of their spectators. "Where is it?" He barked to Lestrade, to which he fumbled with the zipper on the backpack and tilted the bag forward so his friend could see its contents.

The younger boy smiled, and reached out a slender hand. He curled his fingers over its length and took it out from hiding. "Brilliant." He whispered as he inspected the most powerful wand in the magical world, its force the only sort of magic that worked underneath the dome, as it was the object that had created it. The bright sparkles it gave almost blinding at the stark contrast against the grey clouds in the sky. Sherlock replaced the wand inside the bag and joined his hands in anticipation. At least he looked satisfied at the inspection with whatever it was the wand required. "Keep it hidden until we get there." He said to Lestrade, as the other nodded.

"Are we ready?" Irene asked, and the violet-haired boy raised a bag where the smoke bombs were carefully stored.

"Yes." He said. Irene smiled and turned around to enter the tunnel that would get them straight to the docks, hearing the steps of the others following her through the entrance as they advanced to fight.


Noon was approaching fast. The midday clouds already hovering above the island over sea and land alike —well, what passed as cloudy in there— the water reflected back the beams of light, painting the scene a weird hazy atmosphere not unlike a dream. Sherlock and the others came out of the tunnel and into the rickety bridge over the waves that lead to the widest part of the docks, where ships appeared parked in a row, one by one next to the sand.

The violet-haired boy stepped on the wood, a small part of him hoping the rotten structure wouldn't collapse before he was all the way through. The last thing he fancied was being involved in a malfunction that would drop him several meters down and plunge him into the deep, cold, untrusting waters now. Deep waters, for all his life, it seemed.

Rags and fishing nets hung from the ceilings and down the railing of the bridge; it was only when his foot was once again on a wooden staircase —over ordinary land— that Sherlock truly thought of what he was about to do. He was risking everything, not just for himself but for every other creature that roamed isle and kingdom. He turned up the collar of his coat, the jagged edges almost touching his high cheekbones, and proceeded to advance over the 'floating' timber labyrinth to the ships. 'The East Wind' was the biggest of them, standing upright at the end of the line, towering over all the others before it. The moment it came into view, Irene and Greg turned to him, looking for matching frowns of worry at the torn bright teal sails, a monstrous black kraken painted messily over the greatest of them.

"They're here!" Sebastian exclaimed, climbing down from the mast where he was perched up. The rest of the pirates cheered, excited cries raining down as the four of them approached the platform to the deck.

They stopped at the other side of the overpass, when Victor approached it from the other side and opened his arms wide. "Let's get this shit started." He said, the manic grin over his face matching the arrogant smugness from those currently perched over the railing in an attempt to see the exchange.

E. remained at the centre of the deck, an immobile object amongst the anticipating chaos around her. She stood in her baggy white clothes, her eyes almost obscured by her vibrant locks and gaze fixated solely on Sherlock's. "Finally." She commented, barely loud enough to hear among the commotion, yet it fell on the rebel's skin like a blade. The sting heightened once he noticed what she was carrying on her left hand. He didn't particularly want to dwell on the last time he had seen that sword, or the reason why she had it now.

"You brought the whole royal gang to meet us?" Trevor asked, showing shark white teeth as he came to stand behind his captain. "I feel so honoured." He took off his hat and bowed down; making the other rascals laugh and throw obscene comments at them. The silver-gazed glared; with Irene and Greg at his back as Sally stood away from the bridge in wait of confrontation.

"Did you bring it?" E. asked, her cold voice managing to travel all the way to the other side, perfectly clear in her intention. Sherlock stood up straight, displaying his tall form in defiance, his features hardening at the nerve she had to ask him about the wand when he didn't see her part of the reluctant bargain anywhere.

"Where is he?" He asked. The expressions on his enemies' faces not conveying about the king's whereabouts. Irene placed a hand over his shoulder in support, but he forcefully shook it off. He was not here to be mollycoddled. They would give John up unharmed or there would be no hesitation on his part to destroy them all. Perhaps in Auradon it was a different matter, but right now John needed him. Not as a prince or a royal; not even as a friend. He needed him as he was. And if nothing else, Sherlock knew how to play himself perfectly, and he would rather jump into the poisonous crashing waves below than to fail at returning a silver of the salvation that the blonde had brought him.

E. must have noticed his face, for her eyebrows drew in a frown while she studied him. "The wand, did you bring me the wand like I asked?" She explained, Seb snorting in amusement at her assuaging tone.

"Where's John?" The violet haired boy insisted, the attempts to settle his breathing proved futile after a few seconds, but his hard expression didn't change. He knew Irene and Greg were fuming behind him, but at the moment, the inconsequential fact got lost among all the other things demanding focus. His razor eyes cutting through every movement in front of him.

"Oh, down to business already?" Sebastian added. He retrieved a small hammer that he treated as treasure, the only relic left from his believed 'inheritance'. "Where's the fun in that?" He said, waving the object around and cracking a smile in their direction.

"I don't care." Sherlock sighed. "And put that away, you're not going to scare anybody with that stupid hammer," He directed at Sebastian, whose smug grin fell from his face when he realised the rebel wasn't impressed. "Or is it stupid Friday again, already?" Perhaps it was foolish of him to believe they all could be smart about the situation, the task apparently too great for some of them to perform.

"Don't worry; we can chat." Victor said, pacing towards them. "We're taking very good care of your lover boy." The muscles in Sherlock's jaw hardened, and he noticed Lestrade make a hesitant attempt at breaking into a run and attacking the amused smirk right off the ginger's face. He halted at the last moment. "Perfect hosts, promise." Trevor showed his hands, gestured in faux good intentions. The rebel felt apprehension run through his veins.

"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it." He said, ready to bring war should they fail to keep their end.

"Alright." The other boy said. He tilted his head to the side and pouted. "You used to be more fun than this, Sherl." The arm that he reached over to the violet-haired boy was quickly stopped by a forceful hand wrapped around his wrist. Sherlock's fingers scorching the skin beneath, and the rebel would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy every second he could spoil the other's amusement. Victor regarded him, his eyebrows rose when he found stubborn relentlessness inside the boy's mercury eyes. "Bring him over boys." The order directed at some of the the pirates present, while his gaze didn't leave the violet-haired's expression.

After a few moments, Sherlock saw a stupid beanie covering a blonde head appearing from the stairs. John was being dragged up by two muscular men, with his hands tied behind his back and Greg's dark jacket terribly askew over his sturdy frame. Sherlock resisted the urge to react, trying hard to school his expression lest all the emotion would come forth and land before his enemies' feet. The king's eyes landed immediately on him, as if he had been looking for them, and for them only, since climbing those steps. The blonde's gaze was impossible to decode, but just watching it made Sherlock's hands curl up into fists. The burning emotion at seeing him captured mixing terribly with the soft undercurrent of relief at seeing him. Overall, he appeared unharmed, but Sherlock knew better than to theorise before obtaining every truth. Trevor walked back to the ship and pushed John forward, closer to the rail of the deck. "See?" He said, "I told you, dull as always." Victor placed a strong arm over the royal's shoulder, John's eyes changing at the gesture and narrowing sideways in annoyance.

"John?" Ignoring all the others, Sherlock said. A simple question of reassurance more than anything else. The king of Auradon may not have been part of the negotiation, and he probably wouldn't be on board even if he were aware of his plan; but the rebel still waited for John to, at the very least, confirm to be unharmed. The blonde nodded.

Sebastian stumped his heavy boots to the royal, sneering at him before turning to regard the violet haired boy. "Done?" He asked as he crossed him arms.

"Let's get on, shall we?" Victor said from the other side of John, his eyes brimming with excitement. His full attention fixed on Sherlock as he pushed the king towards the opening in the railing that ended on a short plank. "Your boyfriend didn't think you'd actually do it, you know?" He stepped behind the royal, rattling the fickle wood with his heavy stepping and cherishing every time John winced at the unbalance at its end. "Tried to defend your honour quite a few times." Sherlock could imagine how that conversation had gone, he would have liked to watch John search for scraps of decency in the rebel's character as the other conveyed the undeniable truth of why the list of such was so short. "But look at you now, you're actually doing it." The ginger's coat was fluttering behind him with the wind while he stood smiling. To his right, Sherlock could feel the girl's eyes fixed solely on him, but he couldn't help to listen to Victor's words; words that John appeared to have internalised, no matter how much he didn't want to. The pirate leaned in and spoke softly at the blonde's ear. "I would be very flattered, your majesty."

"'Flattered' is not the word." John's flat tone and expression were locked, completely tightened as he fought against the emotion in his face, reminding the rebel of their fight back in the Enchanted Forest.

"Sounds like you're in trouble, Sherl." Victor commented at seeing this exchange, the corner of his mouth curling up as he gestured his disapproval at the boy. Had John not been in danger, Trevor would already be battling with creatures at the bottom of the ocean for calling him that. "I understand though." The pirate then turned to the others behind him, widening his arms for them to watch closely what Sherlock was about to do. As if marking the moment as evidence. "You giving the whole kingdom away." He said, "How do you think it will look if the king lets his villain lover exchange the wand and safety of his people to save his own skin?" An outraged cry came from between Greg's teeth behind him. The urge to shut him up brimming within his friends. The only thing worse than watching John close his eyes in an attempt to stop the words from swirling into his skull was the fact that he was right. "Anything that happens now will be on you." He directed his shark smile at him, and laughed when the blonde refused to react. "What will the people of Auradon think?"

"Luckily, I don't give a damn about what any of them think." Sherlock perched in, his hands inside the pockets of his great coat, as his haughty eyebrows stayed on with disinterest. The revolution inside his guts was put in the back burner. It may still brim beneath his skin, and it may continue to do so forever, but the violet haired refused to let them think of him as the helpless lamb in this situation.

"No one?" Seb's nasal voice added, a chuckle at the end of the sentence as if his little brain could actually form a thought complex enough to even fathom the tidal waves that John's opinion brought with him. Still, it wasn't as if it mattered in any way, the outcome from this would be one and John would just have to accept it.

"Just give me John." Sherlock demanded, reaching forward his hand as if magic could still be propelled from it. An overt show of a choice, peace or war would be decided on whether they returned the king with no damage but that of a bruised ego.

Victor laughed, as if the notion were absurd, but was interrupted by E. A voice seeming to originate from the depths of the ocean and carrying its vast oblivion with it. "Wand first." She said, her mouth barely moving as her gaze peered from between strands of fluttering hair dancing in the wind.

"I know how this works." The silver-gazed shook his head, finding it hard to believe they could actually be as naive as to think he wouldn't see through the obvious betrayal. "I'll give you the wand, and you'll throw him to the sharks anyway." He said, as he saw a stunted smile form over the other's lips. It looked proud.

"You need motivation?" Victor said as he grabbed John from behind, circling a strong arm over his neck and leaning him towards the water below. "Look at his face. How long you think she will remain patient?" John actually seemed a tiny bit scared, but mostly enraged, the rebel saw no other way than to give in into their demands, if only for a few moments.

"Greg." He said, as he extended his hand for the bag. Lestrade hesitated and grimaced when Sherlock turned around to asses what was stalling him.

Greg's gaze shifted between Irene and the rebel, "But you-" He started, yet Sherlock stopped him and insisted with his hand. His friend sighed and reached his strong arms to hand him the backpack. The boy fished out the wand and presented it.

There was a deep silence as the wand was regarded by the others. The glowing sparks released from it disappearing like a flare as the magic evaporated into the atmosphere. Thirteen cycles had been since any magic was seen inside the dome, only working due to its similarity to the spell which plunged the island into darkness and desolation. Molly had truly outdone herself.

"Here it is." He said, while the pirates slowly broke out of the shock and proceeded to cheer at their impending victory. E.'s oceanic eyes finally fixated on something other than Sherlock, leaving him feeling oddly bereft at being released from her penetrating presence even for a few moments. "But first —the king." He drew back the wand, as he smiled. "Release him and you'll get what you want. We can all go our separate ways." The rebel chose to ignore completely the confused look John was giving him. The air traveling to his lungs becoming heavier once he noticed how hurt the blonde appeared. It seemed Sherlock would never stop letting him down.

Sebastian approached, eager to snatch the wand even if the magic shock would fry his mortal hand the instant his skin made contact. The curly-haired straightened his spine; E. may have her crew and her oceans, but he was a force of his own too. The vibrant purple of his locks only highlighting the determined look on his expression. He needed no magic to be what he was. He was a villain; revelling in the fun of doing something completely wrong. A delight unmatched by any of the present. He offered up the wand, leaning forward as Seb was but moments away from grabbing it.

"No." E. spoke. Sucking the sound out from the scene and saving Seb from severe harm as everyone halted around her. Her feet started moving, carrying her to the middle of the overpass as the tip of the sword scratched the wood as it dragged behind her, Sebastian only managing to stumble away as he ran back into the ship. "Too easy." She said, and Sherlock drew back as if offended by her doubt. "Test it, Sherlock. I want to see it work."

The violet-haired laughed. Smirking amusedly at her calculating expression. She was right to suspect a trick from him, to roam her ever-knowing gaze over Sherlock's careless willingness to discard a whole kingdom; all the while not realising the closer she looked, the less she saw.

Victor stepped behind his captain, expression as earnest in making him prove himself for them. A delusion that Sherlock might be putting on a show for his sake. "And nothing too big, or blondie is fish bait." He said.

The silver-eyed boy turned his head to John, whose pleading gaze conveyed a million layers of meaning. The royal struggled against his bonds as two pirates made sure he couldn't move closer to the deck, confining him on a wooden board with sure death down below to one side and them on the other. "Alright." Sherlock said, twisting his body around and coming face to face with Irene and Greg, both of whom wore similar expressions. Lestrade's hands clenched into fists while the indigo-haired girl crossed her slender arms over her chest. They stood terrified but with matching resigned frowns. Ready to advance once E. got what she wished. Sherlock payed no mind to their faces and sighed. "Always so dreadful."

He twisted around once more and pointed the wand into the distance as he closed his eyes, burning streams exploring his body as the magic found an outlet through him. The wand in his pale hand sparkled more viciously, and in a moment there was a big light blasting from the tip as his mercurial eyes opened and the spell was casted.

For a second, nothing happened. The heads of those present turning and searching for a change when the wood beneath their feet began to turn black. The colour swirling across the deck and climbing the beams until the ship was covered completely and the sails had transformed from black and teal into bright purple with Sherlock's name spelled all over them. Once all surprised eyes landed on him again, the rebel blew smugly at the tip of the wand and smirked at them. Despite the slight annoyance, the crew erupted in delight at the display, their hopeful expressions craving the power for themselves.

E. smiled softly in what Sherlock could mistake for satisfaction. "Bring it over." She said, and the rebel stepped innocently to her. Both figures now face to face at the centre of the bridge. He offered up the wand, only to snatch it back before her reaching arm could grasp it. His raised eyebrow conveying exactly his intention. The girl nodded at Victor without hesitation.

"I never get to have any fun." The ginger muttered as he all but dragged John away from the plank and into the overpass with them. The royal was not pleased, ignoring the rough treatment as he stared incredulous at the rebel, his deep blue eyes brimming with so much repressed rage; he almost didn't hear when Sebastian grabbed the chance to convey to him all the threats he had drawn up for his family once they arrived to Auradon.

"Sherlock, no!" The king yelled. The hole inside the violet-haired boy's stomach growing at the sound of his name. "You don't have to do this, it will only make it worse." John explained, as he was shoved to the hard wood of the bridge. "I'll stay with them and we'll solve this another way." His kneeling position made the pleading in his voice heighten its intensity. The words he spoke predictable as Sherlock struggled not to fall into them anyway.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." He said, turning his gaze away from the other's face and grabbing the front of the stupid jumper the king was wearing underneath the jacket. Presenting the wand with the remaining hand.

"Eurus," The blonde said, a gasp echoing around the ship at the mention of her true name. "I promise you'll have what you want, just stop this." Sherlock turned his head down in surprise, his eyebrows drawing together at the confidence in which John uttered said promise. The royal's expression softened at his confusion while the rebel recognised the dire need to get him out as swiftly as the situation allowed. He was reminded of the danger in which the blonde was of being recruited by her.

"Oh, silly king," Eurus said, smiling down at him as Sherlock took a step further, preparing to tug John to him and drag him away. "I already do." The words seemed to seal something as she snatched the wand and let go of the hold she had on the royal; making the both of them stumble back and almost land on their arses over the bridge.

"Sherlock," John said as the other sprang into action and ripped the bonds from his body. "I don't understand," He said. "How could-" Mumbling, confused and shocked while Eurus retreated back to the ship, the sword still dragging behind her. "What have you done?" The king asked when he was finally free of the ropes and fixed his gaze into Sherlock's.

"Gave her the wand." The rebel explained. Conveying nothing more than those four words.

"But-" John said, tugging at the other's purple shirt in a plea to negate what he had just witnessed. "This isn't you." There was a hint of broken-heartedness laced with his words. "You wouldn't-" He started.

"It's fake." Sherlock cut him off, disinterested eyes staring at the handsome face of John Watson.

"What happens if the dome—wait what?" The blonde backtracked as he processed the words the other said amidst his frantic rambling. The violet-haired's face breaking into a big grin.

"The wand," He explained. "It's a fake." The sounds of small explosions not managing to rise over his amused words. "Stolen right from under Anderson's nose."

John stared stupefied, "But the ship and the magic-" He asked, his expression growing hopeful by the minute as the fondness in his eyes developed when they gazed into the kaleidoscope irises in front of him.

"Locked." The rebel said. "Molly, provided the magic and placed a safe spell on it, only I can control it."

"Oh God," John exclaimed, elated. "You cock!" He said, and Sherlock laughed freely as Eurus and her crew struggled against the fumes of the smoke bombs. "I actually thought you-" The blonde's eyes turned regretful, but Sherlock waved the notion away as ridiculous. "How?" John asked.

The collar of the boy's coat framed his mischievous face perfectly. "Answers only to my genetic code." He said, his eyes squinting in mirth as he waited for John's continued amazement.

What he got instead was the hope falling from the blonde's face as quick as it had arrived. "Oh, no." He uttered, turning his gaze to where the pirates were learning to navigate around the smoky traps. "This is bad." He said. "We need to get it back." John's hands started to shake as he struggled against Sherlock to try and reach the overpass once more. "We need-"

"John, relax." The silver-gazed said, grabbing his wrists in order to control the panic he saw on the other. "They can't-" He assured, but John shook his head and attempted to push him aside.

"No, you don't understand, Mike has been lying to you," He said, "To both of us." His voice breathless even above the crashing of the waves on the rocks. The rebel felt his heart rate increase, anticipating news that could only be devastating. "He does know where she came from," John continued, a pained look taking hold of his face. "She is your sister." Sherlock heard nothing after that.