Better Than Before
Chapter 9
"Okay, watch this."
Watson, Kenzie and I watched, disgustedly, as Terry tucked and rolled, then sprang up and threw herself against the wall of the abandoned warehouse we were standing in front of.
"...How very impressive of you." Watson complimented.
"Your turn, Kenzie."
Kenzie narrowed her eyes angrily and casually walked to where Terry was standing and gaping at her.
"Just because you think this is a comic book or some type of action movie, it doesn't mean I have to go along with every single one of your plans."
"Your sense of responsibility irritates me."
"And your lack of maturity is one for the records."
Watson and I looked at one another. How some things never change.
The search for little Timothy Jones brought us to the edge of the city, in one of the many mostly abandoned warehouses that probably once served the majority of the New Yorkers who lived there. Roger Jones was more than elated when Kenzie called him with the news - that being we think we found his son - and urged us to take action as soon as humanly possible.
That was fifteen minutes ago, and now Watson and I found ourselves reliving the old days back in London.
"Okay, well, according to my schizophrenic delusion, the kid should be on the fifth floor. I was thinking maybe we can repel from the roof."
Kenzie whirled around to face her. "Are you bloody serious!? We want to rescue this child, not scare him even more!"
"Who said he's frightened?" I asked.
Watson turned to look at me. "Who said he isn't?"
"Touché."
"Look, Kenzie, I'm just saying... We need to have the element of surprise."
"I know that, Terry, but that doesn't mean we have to repel from the damn roof. That's too dangerous... And it's opening up a gap for not only error, but fast retaliation. One of us can go in from the door, and the other can use the fire escape."
"It looks too rusty." Watson observed.
"Okay, Kenzie can go in through the door. I'll take the fire escape."
"I said 'it looks too rusty.' As in maybe you shouldn't think about using the fire escape at all." Watson stated, fixing Terry with a cold glare.
"Let me worry about that," Terry turned to look at Kenzie. "Are you ready for this, Scotch?"
"Let's do it, Guinness."
They high-fived one another and marched off in different directions. Kenzie located the front door of the building and carefully let herself in, whereas Terry made her way over to the alley next to the warehouse and started making her way up the fire escape. Although severely rusty, the fire escape held her weight as she quickly climbed the steps to the fifth floor.
"I never expected those two to mesh so well in such a short amount of time." I remarked.
Watson turned to look at me. "Nobody expected us to get along, being from different backgrounds and living different lives... People change when they live together."
"Indeed, my dear Watson."
It was easier for the two of us to follow Kenzie, so we did. By the time we caught up with her, she was on the fifth floor and was crouched low to the ground, pistol drawn and ready.
"See anything yet?" Watson asked.
She nodded her head no, then moved forward, nudging with her head for us to follow her. Watson and I spread out onto either side and looked around the room. It was rather large for an older warehouse. Then again, I regret to admit that I'm not very familiar with New York City warehouses. Then again, there were several rather old warehouses back in London, the one at Nine Elms, especially.
My mental rambling was brought to a halt when I saw a small figure curled into a ball in the far corner of the room. "Mackenzie!"
The girl, thankfully, decided to respond to the use of her full name, and ran over to me with Watson close behind. She knelt down and checked for a pulse.
"He's fine."
"Is that the child, though?" Watson asked.
Kenzie pulled out her phone and looked at the picture Roger Jones had sent her. "I'd say so... Where the hell is Terry?"
As if right on cue, my overzealous charge bursted through the window, tucked and rolled once she hit the floor, and landed in a perfect crouching position. The fact she had pulled her hood up to protect her head from the glass made her look like some kind of Batman wannabe.
"Where are they?" She questioned, brushing glass off of her shoulders as she stood up and approached us.
"Are you having fun imitating a vigilante?" I inquired.
She quirked an eyebrow at me, then smiled. "Did that at least look cool?"
"Your noisy entrance probably alerted anyone who is passing by, and we don't need them to catch us here with the boy and assume we kidnapped him... So we might want to get a move on it." I replied.
Terry groaned, then spun on her heels and started marching away, heading towards the door to leave. Kenzie carefully picked up the child, who was holding onto the stolen necklace, and followed suit. Watson and I trailed after them, deciding it was wise to give them some space. After all, they had just (technically) solved their first case.
By the time we got outside, the little boy woke up and looked around confusedly. "Who are you?" He asked.
"I'm Kenzie, and that's my friend Terry." Kenzie replied, smiling down at him sweetly.
"I'm Timmy Jones. Are you taking me home?"
"You bet we are, kiddo."
"Holmes! Dr. Watson! Fancy seeing you here!"
I visibly cringed and turned to look at the source of the voice, putting a smile on my face. "Detective Lestrade! So nice to see you made it this far."
"Cut down the sarcasm, boy-o."
"Funny that your charge is a Sergeant in the police force." Watson gestured to the cop who was filling out the report in the Jones home, sitting across the table from Roger and Timothy.
"Yeah... Gotta start somewhere." Lestrade replied, a huge smile overtaking his features.
"And you said the boy was in an abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city?" The Sergeant asked, pointing his pen at Kenzie and Terry, who were standing off to the side.
"Yes, sir." Kenzie replied.
"How did you know he was there?"
"We saw the boy through the broken window." Terry was quick to reply.
"From where? The roof of the other building?" The Sergeant asked.
"Yes." Kenzie and Terry replied in unison.
"Now that was scary."
The Sergeant finished filling out his report in silence, still slightly skeptic about the story Terry had made up for him. However, instead of challenging, he kept his mouth shut and continued doing his job, then bid everyone farewell and left, taking Lestrade with him.
"Thank heavens he's gone." I remarked.
"Holmes!"
Roger stood up and turned to face Kenzie and Terry. "Thank you, ladies, so much for bringing my little boy back to me. You couldn't possibly understand how I felt while he was missing, and it means the world to me that he's fine. As promised, here is your reward."
Roger handed the envelope to Kenzie, who took it with a smile on her face. "You're very welcome, and thank you for this."
"So you didn't find me on accident?" Timmy asked.
"No, Timmy. I hired them to find you." Roger replied, making Timmy turn to look at him.
"Why?"
"That's a story for later," Roger turned to look at Kenzie and Terry again. "Once again, thank you. I'll never be able to thank you enough!"
"It was a pleasure." Kenzie replied.
On our way back to the flat, we passed by a construction wall with a plethora of fliers advertising anything from local artists to celebrities. Kenzie's attention was snagged by a single flier.
"Scotch?" Terry asked.
Kenzie looked at her, then pointed back at the flier. "That just seems so familiar from somewhere. Can't figure it out, though."
Watson, Terry and I crowded around her to take a look at the flier, which was the only one of its kind on the wall. It was a symbol. A depiction of a triangle with a calligraphy-style 'R' coming out of the right side of it.
"Fire of Reverberation. That's a first," I remarked, leaning forward to observe the symbol better. "Are you familiar with Alchemy or something?" I inquired, turning to look at Kenzie.
"No. I just know the symbol from somewhere... That's all."
"Hmmm... Well, that's an interesting symbol to be familiar with... Time to retreat to your mind palace to see if you can figure out where you might know it from."
"I think I know where it's from," Watson piped up. "Kenzie... Your father has this as a tattoo."