Marinette couldn't get warm. She just felt heavy, unable to move. Through a haze, she felt her body being held against something hard, something that felt warm enough to help and she tried to get closer to, even if she really couldn't. Tired. So tired. It was hard to stay awake. At least she had stopped shivering. The chattering of her teeth had been making her face hurt.
There was a sensation of falling, or maybe landing - a jolt through her ribs and the jerk of her head. A voice she felt safe with kept murmuring words in her ears, over and over, but she couldn't understand what they said. A rocking sensation followed by an overwhelmingly loud banging noise and the feeling of desperation.
She heard herself complain with a moan when the warmth that had been holding her vanished and someone began tugging at the clothing that stuck to her skin. A gentle, motherly voice soothing her as they peeled her shirt off over her head and forced something soft as a replacement. Why wouldn't they just leave her alone? She wanted to sleep. She tried to push away the hands that were changing the rest of the clothes on her body but she couldn't move.
She began to shiver again. So cold. Heavy pressure covered her from chin to toes. Tired.
The warmth came back, pulling her close with the voice that cut through the haze and made her feel safe.
"Stay with me, Mari. I need you," it said over and over. Curling up into a ball and pressing against the warmth, she dozed off to sleep.
Chat Noir felt happy when the grey colour of Marinette's face had changed to one of lightly flushed pink, pressed up against his chest. Relieved that her breathing had returned to a normal rhythm instead of the unsteady rasps that it had been earlier, he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead before he slowly pulled himself away from her. She whimpered slightly, before grabbing the blankets tighter around herself. He stood for a moment, looking down at her, and let himself just breathe. She was going to be ok. He was ok. That was all that mattered right now at this moment.
In the hallway, he met Mrs Hudson, their generous host. She was a sweet woman with soft brown eyes, greying hair, and a slightly plump stature. Not once had she inquired about their appearance at her door, nor the masked gear that he wore. She had been bustling to and fro since they had crashed on her doorstep, finding Marinette something dry and warm to wear, making sure the fire in her bedroom was stoked and fed, and checking in on the pair of them repeatedly while he had waited for some improvement. Now, she eagerly asked him about Marinette's current condition and was pleasantly satisfied when he informed her of progress.
"I am sorry, Madam, but may I impose one more thing of you?" he asked. She just nodded to encourage him to continue. "Do you have any cheese by any chance?"
She was completely unflustered by the request, scurrying away to the kitchen from which she returned with a good amount of some sort of cheese wrapped in a cloth. Bowing in thanks, he slipped back into Marinette's room.
It was a simple room, furnished with only the bare essentials - a bed, a set of drawers with a vanity mirror, a small side table holding a basin and pitcher, a slightly uncomfortable looking winged chair and a moveable folding screen tucked into the corner. Heavy blankets and curtains accented various walls and edges.
He had decided that he would pull the dressing screen in front of the chair to hide while he let Plagg recharge. That way, if Marinette woke up while he wasn't ready she wouldn't see him as Adrien. Although, in truth, he kind of didn't see much of a point anymore in keeping his identity from his friend.
Quietly, he set up his space and released his transformation, Plagg giving him his typically annoyed look upon arrival. Adrien motioned to the cheese and let his kwami recharge.
"So… any interesting conversations with your lovebird yet?" Plagg asked between bites, giving Adrien a curious sideways glance. Adrien just rolled his eyes, annoyed.
"Not really. We talked about Ladybug a bit and went skating. That stupid Akuma attacked Marinette and almost killed her, Plagg. She almost choked her to death in front of my eyes and then gave her hypothermia by nearly drowning her in ice water!" Adrien realized he was talking way louder than he should be, heart pounding as he replayed the whole experience in his head. He took a shaky breath in, attempting to calm down his quickly slipping emotions. Plagg seemed to pause in his snacking, staring at his chosen holder oddly before he resumed gulping cheese loudly.
"Cheese is so much easier," he murmured.
It was a couple of hours later, Adrien dozing while curled up on the chair with Plagg snoring away in his pocket, that the door thumped open, making them both jump. Thankful to be hidden behind the screen and temporarily out of sight, Adrien poked Plagg who looked totally unamused.
"Transform me," Adrien whispered, ignoring the glaring green eyes that the little black cat gave him as he got sucked into the ring. A flash of brilliant green light washed over his body, transforming him into Chat Noir. Calmly, he strolled out from behind the divider, meeting the sharp eyes of their visitor.
He was a tall, lanky man, dark hair carefully combed, with dark eyes that seemed to observe everything peering over a beak-like nose. In his mouth rested a pipe, which he held with a casual demeanour as he scanned the room, looking between Marinette and Chat Noir.
"Good Day," the man greeted politely. "My name is Sherlock Holmes, and somewhere around here is my associate, Dr Watson. I am glad to see Mrs Hudson has taken good care of your needs." When Chat simply nodded, Mr Holmes looked him up and down before turning his gaze back to where Marinette slept - pigtails askew and hands tucked under her cheek.
"Mrs Hudson informed me that you arrived at our step most panic-stricken with that girl a terrible sight. 'Frozen like it was the middle of winter' I believe she said. Most unusual for this time of year. Whatever could have caused such a thing?"
There was this awkward pause as Chat tried to figure out exactly what to tell the man, silently wishing that he'd actually read any of the stories of Holmes and Watson instead of just knowing of him through common knowledge and Hollywood interpretation. The man did seem shrewd and intelligent, as per the expected for a world famous detective.
"Ice water, sir," Chat finally answered, "She fell into ice water." There was a slight narrowing of Mr Holmes' eyes as he took that information in before returning his gaze to the bed. He made an affirming noise in the back of his throat.
"I believe, young man, that you and I are in need of a very detailed and important conversation. Follow me." And with that, Sherlock Holmes pivoted on his heel and left the room with a strong and intentional march. Chat hesitated, looking back at Marinette. She was still sleeping. Mrs Hudson would look after her if she woke up. After nodding to himself as if to confirm it would be ok, he followed behind the detective to answer the questions that he knew would be coming.
Mr Holmes' office was chaos. That was the only way Chat could describe it. The whole room was filled with oddities and collections. Bookcases were piled high with thick books, spilling out into piles on the floor. The walls were covered in artwork and portraits of various men and women. Thick curtains covered the large windows on one side of the room, in front of which sat an oversized, elegantly carved wooden desk. Paperwork was strewn from one side to the other of the desk to the other, with several stacks leaning against one edge of the desk from the ground. Mugs of half-finished tea were left forgotten amongst the paperwork.
Mr Holmes was busy shoving things off a thick velvet-covered chair, then gesturing to Chat to sit there, before taking his place at his own desk. Chat sat with a straight back at the edge of the seat, years of societal training as Adrien kicking into action instead of the casual lounge that he preferred to do as Chat Noir.
Holmes eyed him silently for a moment, giving Chat the same slightly uncomfortable feeling that he got when his father called him into his office to reprimand him.
When another man appeared at the office door and made his way confidently to the other chair in the room, Chat realized Holmes had been waiting. This must be Dr Watson. Chat eyed him quietly - taking in the sight of the well-groomed man with a small moustache and average height with amusement. It was a little unreal to see characters that were still popular in his own time.
Dr Watson greeted him politely, although Chat could see the curiosity burning behind his eyes.
The questioning began, as Holmes asked the boy to explain who he was, how he had ended up here, and why - of all things - he was dressed as a cat. Weighing the situation carefully, Chat finally decided to share it all. Everything. If the world's most amazing detective couldn't handle the whole story, who could?
Taking a deep breath, he began to explain how he had gotten his miraculous ring, which had turned him into a cat-like superhero. He waxed poetic about his partner, LAdybug, who he loved with his whole being. He shared their experiences of battling Akumas and of their ultimate nemesis Hawkmoth. In detail, he shared the battle they had with BookWorm, the stolen earrings, Marinette's selfless act of protecting his ring, and the sequence of worlds that had followed. On and on he went, interrupted only by the occasional question by Holmes, who sat quietly at his desk.
When Chat finally stopped talking, bringing them up to the current moment, Sherlock Holmes just stared at him as if he was trying to figure something out. It was Dr Watson who spoke up with another question.
"And the mask, it comes off?"
Chat nodded, debating if he should. It wasn't like these men would know his face. Why not? He dropped his transformation, black fading into his everyday clothes in a flash of light. Both men blinked at the unexpected brightness.
"Oh, sure. You let THEM know who you are, but not her." came the expected sass from Plagg who floated in front of Adrien's face. Adrien just scowled at his kwami, pulling open one side of his shirt and shooing the little cat into his favourite, cheese-stocked pocket.
"Adrien Agreste, sirs. Nice to meet you." Adrien rose, reaching out a hand first to Dr Watson then to Mr Holmes to shake in greeting. They both seemed a little speechless at first, simply following traditions with their handshakes.
Mr Holmes recovered first.
"And the girl downstairs - Miss Dupain-Cheng? Does she know who you are without your mask?"
"No, sir. I'm not really supposed to tell anyone who I am," Adrien admitted sheepishly. "Plus, sir, she knows who I am outside the mask. We are in the same class at school."
"Ah," was the only comment to that. "And, does Ladybug know who you are?" Shaking his head, Adrien blushed. "And do you know who Ladybug is?"
"No, sir. Although I wish that I did." It was the truth. More than anything, he wished he knew the girl behind the mask.
"Well, dear boy. That's easy enough. That girl downstairs - she's Ladybug." The way he said it was so matter-of-fact that it took a moment for the words to sink into Adrien's head. He just sat there, frozen, trying to piece together the comment with the facts that he already knew. A strangled sound escaped his throat as the realization that the man behind the desk was right.
Marinette was Ladybug.
It made perfect sense. She was always vanishing during Akuma attacks. She wore her hair exactly like Ladybug. Her eyes were exactly the same colour of bluebell blue as Ladybug. Her earrings were gone. She'd even tried to tell him. He'd already seen how Marinette's helping heart was just like Ladybug's need to help others. No wonder she had jumped on him to save his ring.
He was an idiot. How had he not figured this out before?!
Running his hands through his hair, Adrien slumped forward. From his pocket, he heard Plagg's howls of laughter and what sounded like "About time."
"Now that this is settled, I realize I could use your services on a case I'm working on," he heard Mr Holmes continue. "Can you dance?"
Author: My apologies to any avid Sherlock fans if I've taken any of the characters out of their usual selves. I've only read a few of the stories so I feel a little like Chat about this particular world drop.
LyraMaeArcher