John and Sherlock were in Sherlock's room yelling at each other. Jace was left on the kitchen table, not fully understanding what was going on. He heard snippets, such as 'He'll be fine' and 'He's THREE INCHES TALL'. Jace shakes his head. From what Holmes had said Jace has a bad feeling he wants to use the borrower as some sort of spy. Not that Jace doesn't want to help, it's just that Watson's right. He's only 2.8 inches tall.
The door suddenly is knocked on and Jace freezes. Seeing how Watson left his book on the table, Jace quickly ducks behind the spine. When the two don't walk over to open the door, the person simply opens it. Jace freezes as they walk in, not wanting to be found. This is bad. So so bad.
"Sherlock," a calm voice says. The two stop talking immediately. Jace slowly relaxes a little as the two walk out. Holmes scowls the person, and judging by the voice, a man had entered.
"Mycroft," Sherlock mutters. He walks over to a chair and plops down, very unprofessional.
"Nice to see you too. I heard about your latest case not working out fairly well for you. And for your plan, I'm here to help," the man, Mycroft, says. No one says anything and Jace slowly lifts his head up. A tall man, older than Holmes, stands in the room. An umbrella hangs on his arm. Suddenly the man starts to turn around and Jace ducks back down.
"It's alright Jace, you can come out. I won't hurt you." Jace's lungs freeze. No matter how hard he tries though the air won't reach him. How, how did he know!
"Mycroft, who are you talking to?" John questions.
"Dear John. I know you're trying to help, but I saw it climbing up your stairs and into the flat. And in all your conversations I've heard another voice," Mycroft explains. Jace finally breathes and huffs. He's not an it. And no way is he coming out.
"Mycroft, why are you here? Stop harassing my flat mate. It's low even for you," Sherlock huffs.
"I want to give you a tracker to put on it so you can follow the murder to their home. It can listen to the conversations and you'll solve the case. Simple." Mycroft watches as the two stare at him. He hears a soft noise by the table and calmly looks over. The tiny man stands on top of the book, its shoulders square and head high.
"I'm not an it. My name is Jace, Jace Stenson. And I will happily wear the tracker and follow this killer," Jace snaps. Mycroft smiles widely, glad the boy took the bait. He walks to the table, sitting in a chair.
"You really are something. Surprised you came to my brother instead of anyone else though. Lot more people out in the world," he breathes. Jace stumbles back as he says those words, not liking this Mycroft character at all.
"Jace, you can't just go with a killer," John interrupts. He stands next to Mycroft, keeping an eye on the man staring at Jace.
"But if I don't then he'll get away, kill more people, the whole nine yards," he cries.
"Why don't you follow him with your cameras?" Sherlock asks.
"Can't. He goes into an area where my camera can't reach. Problem is if we send the police, he won't talk to those who investigate him I'll guarantee that," Mycroft answers. Holmes begins to pace, in front of the kitchen table. He walks over to Mycroft and holds a hand out.
"Tracker." A small piece of metal is dropped into his palm. Sherlock looks at it, the device no bigger than a pea. He then stands beside Jace. "Come here."
Jace stiffens at those words, not sure exactly how Holmes will put the device on him. He looks at the detective, but as Sherlock's eyes soften just a tad, Jace walks forward to the edge of the table. Holmes crouches down as he unhooks the device's needle.
"Now hold still," he whispers. Jace flinches as huge fingers bigger than him come before him. Jace freezes, stiff as a board as Holmes gently grabs his shirt. Sherlock pins the device on without actually touching Jace once. He sits back, a smile displayed as Jace looks at the thing on his shirt. It seems like a flower he's seen men wear on a suit for a dance.
"Thank you," Jace breathes.
"Now we can plant him where ever the killer will be next and have him follow undetected," Mycroft interrupts.
"Thank you very much for the help. Now, we must make sure our affairs are in order, so you'll have to leave." As Sherlock speaks, John opens the door wide. Mycroft shakes his head at Holmes and stands up. He bows his head toward Jace, still marveling about the fact he's so small.
"Have a good day Stenson, Watson. I'll see you all soon." And with that, he leaves. Sherlock rubs his face, angry for his brother to just drop in like that. And, plant a camera to watch his flat and bug his flat!
"Watson, we need to find that bug," Sherlock declares, beginning to look everywhere on the walls. John sighs but gets to work.
"So he's your brother?" Jace calls. Holmes hesitates, making Jace smile widely.
"Yes, but I prefer to call him my enemy. So much more suitable," he replies.
"And he knew about me," Jace mutters. He paces the table, going back and forth.
Were there more humans who knew abut him? Jace made sure to climb up the stairs in the shadows but obviously Mycroft apparently saw him. And knew his name but Watson and Holmes were taking care of that problem now.
"How long do you think he's listened to us?" John asks aloud. Sherlock snorts, thinking.
"Probably since the last time he's visited. So, about for two months."
"Sorry to say it Sherlock, but sometimes I really do hate him."
"I take no ill feelings toward that statement," Holmes mutters. Jace smiles then looks at the wood of the table.
He'll have to be a spy for these two. That parts fine, but the part he'll be traveling with a killer is what sends Jace to be less confident.
