221B Eiric pov
"Sherlock, John, I'm a witch." After I said this out loud, I watched their faces closely; John's expression was stupefied and shock and Sherlock's . . . was that curiosity or suspiciousness? I took it as a good sign so far, at least they weren't calling me 'Freak' . . . yet.
"A what?" John was making a wonderful fish impression, I looked away; my face falling just a bit. I heaved a big sigh, before I started to explain, everything.
"A witch, John. I should probably start from the beginning, yes?" I got up from my bed, walking pass the kitchen but flicking my wrist to start a pot of tea and make a tray for it, with condiments. The boys followed, John gasping in surprise at the kitchen. "Impressive, Eiric." I came to an abrupt halt when Sherlock spoke.
"I-I . . . Thank you, Sherlock." I was actually stuttering, I haven't stuttered in years. "Your very much welcome, Eiric." I watched as he sat on the royal blue couch, John, soon coming to join him. I was startled out of my trance, when the tea pot whistled. With another flick of my wrist, the tea and tray floated into the living room; onto the coffee table. The tea already made into cups for them. I handed them each a cup and took my own, sitting in the bronze colored armchair. I took a sip of tea, burning my tongue; I sat it back on to the tray and cleared my throat.
"Well. . . I guess I should start with the day my parents were murdered." Both of their eyes widen after I said that, I sat up a bit straighter. "It was on October 31 in 1993, I was 15 months old at the time. At the time, I thought my parents were playing a game. There was a prophecy made before I was born, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . . . Born to those who have thrice defied him, Born as the seventh month dies. . . . And the Dark Lord will mark her as his equal, But she will have power the Dark Lord knows not. . . . And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. . . . The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. . . .' though two babies were born that month, only one was a girl. My parents took me into hiding until that day. My father was the first one to see the man, he turned to my mother told her to take me and run. My father was the first to die, in the foyer. The man came up the stairs to my nursery, where mum was hiding me. She was telling me how sorry she was that she and dad weren't going to be there for me, that they love me so much and that I was bound to do great things," I was staring off into the distance, with tears silently rolling down my face. "The man blew the door open, mum stood in front of me, blocking him away from me. He told her to move out of the way, she didn't. She beg for mercy, told him to take her, not me, not Tristyn, not her baby. He got annoyed and killed her; right in front of me, he then turned on me and tried to kill me but it didn't work. It back fired on him, turning him into dusk but not dead. . . . Would you like to see a picture of them?" they both nodded, I got up and went to my room. I, first, changed in to my black sport bra and grey sweat pants and grabbed the photo album that held photos of my parents. I went back to the boys, ignoring their shocked looks and sat in the middle of them. I flipped to the page with my parents hugging, spinning in circles. I showed them, gently running my fingers over them, "Everyone says I look exactly like mum with her smarts and temper but my dad's act of getting in trouble, playing pranks, and my loyalty to my friends and family." I put the album on the table. "Anyway, I survived the attack only getting a scar on my forehead. I became famous that night, The-Girl-Who-Lived, is what they called me 'cos nobody has ever survived the killing curse."
"Killing curse?" I looked over to Sherlock, nodding my head, "It's a curse that kills your opponents instantly and painlessly. It's one of the three unforgivable curses. I was taken to my relatives, the Dursleys, and lived with them until I was seventeen. Petunia, my aunt, was my mums sister, and Aunt Petunia hate mum. She hated anything to do with magic, anything that wasn't perfect or normal, really. They abuse me, physically, emotionally, and mentally though I never showed it, they also starved me sometimes. Hell, my first bedroom was a cupboard underneath their stairs until I got my Hogwarts letter. That was my salvation but also my damnation." I chuckle darkly at myself. "Every year there was a crime to solve so to say. I solved them every time with the help of Mione and Ron. Until our seventh year, we became fugitives in our community. The war had started, good vs. bad, light vs. dark, and I was the leader of the light; only seventeen. I lost so many people I cared about in that war, Teddy lost his parents, innocent blood was shed and I was drowning in it. I killed the man in the end, just as the prophecy said, I was never the same after that. The Ministry turned on me again, and Mycroft came in, swooped down and negotiated with them. The Ministry was afraid that I would turn into the next Dark Lady, so Mycroft proposed that I should be put under house arrest with heavy security at all times with Ron and Hermione for three years. I was to see a therapist and take whatever they gave me. So I hired my father-figure, Severus Snape as my therapist. I develop a drinking problem. . . . Well, any kind of substance problem for the first two years, until I scared Teddy, he was about to turn three when it happened. I had overdose and mixed alcohol with it, he found me face down in my room and fire-called Severus. I was hospitalize for a few months before being released. I have never touched the stuff again but I have a drink here and there but always one drink. So, there's my story, the door is over there if you want to leave and pretend that this has never happen." I got up from the couch and took the tray back into the kitchen. I started to clean the dishes the Muggle way.
"If you have magic, why are you hand cleaning the dishes?" I turned my head, looking over my shoulder to see John and Sherlock in the archway. I smiled a bit, 'Their accepting us.'
"I was raised a Muggle before I learned I was a witch." I said looking back to the dishes.
"Muggle?" that was Sherlock, 'So curious.'
"Non-magic people that be you, John, and Mrs. H." I said.
"What about those liquids that you drank?" Sherlock asked.
"Potions. I took a healing draught, blood replenisher, and a pepper up potion." I turn to them, leaning my hips against the counter with arms cross. Sherlock was studying me, looking for something.
"You said you got a scar but I see none on you?" I closed my eyes, "Glamour, I wear a glamour."
"I would like to see." My eyes snapped open in shock, I stared at him.
"Sherlock!" John yelled at him. I just stared at him then slowly nodded my head. I dropped my glamor and closed my eyes as I heard them gasp in horror. My body was littered in scars. I could feel the tautness of my skin with every little move, the scars pulling my skin. I could feel the burning sensation from the Deathly Hallow mark on my right shoulder blade. I could remember each scar I've gotten and the story of how I got it. I open my eyes, only to meet Sherlock's icy blues in an intense stare.
"What about that one?" Sherlock asked out the blue. I furrowed my eyebrows, "Which one?" he pointed to his left collarbone, "The one that covers your heart." Suddenly, I was back in the Forbidden Forest. Standing in front of Voldemort. 'The-Girl-Who-Lived, comes to die.' His hissing voice echoed in my head, words dripping down my back, like ice cold water.
"Eiric?" I snapped back into reality. "Oh that one? I got injured in a game of Quidditch. Dangerous, that game is." I outright lied to them, so hoping that Sherlock would buy it. And for once luck was on my side tonight. I put my glamour back on starting to feel a bit self-conscious about my scar covered body. I rocked on my feet a bit, feeling awkward and antsy with the silence.
"Please, say something." I whispered, looking down. I heard steps coming towards me, seeing a shadow of a hand coming towards my face; making me flinch on instinct. The hand hovered for a second before placing a finger under my chin with the thumb on top of it; lifting my chin gently until my eyes met those beautiful blues of the consulting detective.
"Get some sleep, Eiric. It's been a long day for all of us. Take tomorrow off, spend the day with Teddy and Mrs. Hudson. Come John." I stared wide eye at him. He let go of my chin, following John out of the kitchen before pausing for a minute. "And Eiric, this doesn't change what we think of you or Teddy. I know you're hiding things from us, but take your time to tell us. Sleep well, Miss. Potter." I watched him walk out, but before he left my flat, I rushed after him. "Sherlock! Wait!" he stopped in the front door archway, the door halfway closed behind him, "Yes?" I stood there looking at him, searching to see if what he had said was true, not seeing any falseness; I smiled softly at him.
"Thank you, Sherlock, it means a lot to me." I leaned up and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, "Sweet dreams, Mr. Holmes."
TPSH
Scotland Yard Sherlock pov
I could still feel the ghost of Eiric's lips on mine from the kiss she gave me before I left the flat with John. We were standing a short distance away from Dimmock, who has his back to them and is rummaging through paperwork on his desk trying to ignore us.
"How many murders it is gonna take before you state believing that this maniac's out there?" Dimmock turns and walks in between us, heading to another desk. John turns around and follows him. "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in a few months. You're supposed to be finding him." I walk across in front of John to get nearer to Dimmock. John steps back and walks a few paces away in exasperation.
"Brain Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers – a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose." I leaned closer to Dimmock emphasizing my point. Dimmock finally looks to me.
"Can you prove that?" I straighten up thoughtfully.
TPSH
St. Barts
"What are you thinking: pork or the pasta?" Molly turns in surprise at my voice beside her. "Oh, it's you!"
"This place is never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it?" I fake smiled at her, then nods to the display. "I'd stick with the pasta. Don't wanna be doing roast pork – not if you're slicing up cadavers." Another fake smile to her. She grins nervously. "What are you having?"
"Don't eat when I'm working. Digesting slows me down."
"So you're working here tonight? Where's Eiric? She usually here with you." She looked around me with a frown on her face. I raised an eyebrow at the tone she used when speaking of her co-worker, "Need to examine some bodies and Eiric is spending time relaxing with her son and Mrs. Hudson."
"Some?" I nodded, "Eddie Van Coon and Brain Lukis." Molly looks down at her clipboard that she's holding. "They're on my list." I turned puppy-dog eyes on her. "Could you wheel them out again for me?"
"Well . . . the paperwork's already gone through." She said apologetically. I raised my eyes, frowned noticing something, I pointed to her hair. "You've . . . changed your hair."
"What?" she asked nervously.
"Th-the style: it's usually parted in the middle."
"Yes, well. . ."
"Mmm, it's good; it, um, suits you better this way." Once again I wheel out the smile. She returns it, looking both flattered and flustered, then turns away to the display. Instantly my smile drops and I look impatiently at my watch.
TPSH
Morgue
Later, two body bags are lying on adjacent tables. Molly, wearing latex gloves, unzips one of the bags and pulls the sides apart to reveal the face of Brian Lukis. I lead Dimmock into the room.
"We're just interested in the feet."
"The feet?" Molly said, frowning.
"Yes. D'you mind if we have a look at them?" smiling at her, I lead Dimmock to the other end of the body bag. Molly follows me and unzips the bag at that end, pulling the sides back to reveal the bottom of Lukis' feet. On the bottom of the right heel is the Black Lotus tattoo. I straightened up, a smug expression on my face, and walked over to the other table.
"Now Van Coon."
Molly and Dimmock followed me to the second table and she unzips the other body bag. Van Coon has an identical tattoo on his right heel. Dimmock sighs silently.
"Oh!" I said sarcastically
"So. . ." Dimmock started awkwardly. "So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlor or I'm telling the truth." Dimmock sighed in resignation, "What do you want?"
"I want every book from Lukis' apartment and Van Coon's."
"Their books?"
TPSH
221B
Once we got back to the Flat, I went straight pass the stairs that went up to our flat.
"Sherlock, where are you going?" John asked me following behind.
"We're checking on Eiric." I said to him. John raised an eyebrow, "Why? She's a strong independent woman. And I'm sure she wouldn't want an annoying bloke like you snooping into her business." I looked straight ahead, giving John the silent treatment and knocked on her door, waiting for her to answer it.
"You like her don't you, Sherlock?" John asked me. I turned my head slightly to him with a raised eyebrow.
"No, of course not, John, don't be stupid. Feelings are not an advantage." I turned back to Eiric's door knocking again.
"Uh huh. You like her, Sherlock. When you saw her knocked out on the floor last night, you actually cried. Sherlock, you were worried about her, begging her to wake up and when she did you kissed her on the forehead. Kissed, Sherlock, and it wasn't a platonic kiss either." I didn't answer him opting for the silent treatment again. "And you just don't like her, you like her, like her, Sherlock." I rolled my eyes at John's teasing, I knocked again. "Alright, Mr. Cool. I know you like her but I'll just tease you from my head." I scoffed at him.
"No! You can't do this! I won't let you!" Eiric screamed resounded threw the whole building causing John and I to look at each other. John, then, took a few steps back and ran into the door breaking it open with skills only a military person would have. We ran down the stairs open the other door, only to come to a halt at the scene we saw. There was a man, at least as tall as myself, with greasy black shoulder length hair, a hooked nose, pale shallow complexion, and black eyes. The man was wearing black clothing and a cloak that made him look like an overgrown bat. Eiric looked as if she had been crying, I narrowed my eyes at the man and walked over to Eiric; wrapping an arm around her waist.
"Eiric, are you alright?" I said pulling her close to me and looked her over. I noticed she changed out of her sleepwear, she was now wearing a lavender Kaftan top, black skinny jeans, a pair of light brown Valentin boots, gold hoop earrings, and black frame Hipster glasses. 'She didn't tell me she wore glasses. She looks breathtaking. Oh god. John's right. I do like her, well more than like, I think I'm in love with Eiric.' She nodded at me with a tight smile.
"I'm fine, Sherlock." She looked back over to the man, "Sherlock, John, this is my father, Severus Snape. Dad, this is the Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson." The man sneered at us, I griped my free hand into a fist, 'This man is like Mycroft.'
"Pleasure. Eiric, it is the rule of our society." He narrowed his eyes at John and me, but I had the feeling it was mostly at me.
"Rules are made to be broken, Sev." Her voice turning vicious, her acid green eyes flashing. He started to pull out a stick from his sleeve, pointing it at John and I. I felt Eiric freeze for a moment before rushing in front of us, stopping Snape in his tracks.
"I trusted them enough to tell them!" she yelled at him.
"Well, I don't." Snape huffed and raised the stick again, "I'm only doing this to protect you." She walked over to him, grabbing his wrist and looked him in the eye.
"Trust me then." John and I looked watched them for a minute before Snape nodded his head at her, putting the stick up. I walked over to Eiric and Snape, sticking my hand out to the man.
"Sherlock Holmes." Snape grabbed my hand, giving it a rough shake.
"Severus Snape," he responded but didn't let go of my hand. He pulled his arm to him, jerking me closer to him so he could whisper into my ear. "Hurt my daughter or grandson, Mr. Holmes, you'll have a lot more to worry about then missing memories." I looked him in the eye, nodding. He released me from his grip and turned to Eiric.
"I'll be taking my leave, Eiric." He kissed her on the cheek and started walking to the door.
"Dad, stay please. Teddy would love it if you stayed and visited for a while and I could catch you up on the case that I'm doing? Please." She was walking behind him, Snape looked over his shoulder to her.
"Very well then." She gave him a bright smile. She looked over to us, "Your flat, then, Boys?" I nodded to her, confirming her answer.
"Alright then. I'll go get Teddy from Mrs. H and be up there in a jiff." She was about to walk up the stairs before she paused, turning to look at the three of us, pointing a finger. "Behave the lot of you." Then carried on her way to Mrs. Hudson's flat. The three of us looked to the other before going to John and mine's flat.
TPSH
We walked into the living room, taking our coats off. John went and sat in his chair, Snape to the couch, and I remained standing. Eiric soon returned with Teddy in tow.
"PAPA!" Teddy let go of his mother's hand, running into the room and launching himself onto Snapes lap. Said man chuckled lowly and shakes his head.
"Hello, Teddy." Eiric came to stand by me, her hand slipping into mine.
"Not just a criminal organization; it's a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of its leader."
"Soo Lin said the name." Eiric said to me. I nodded, "Yes, Shan; General Shan."
"We're still no closer to finding them." John said from his chair, Eiric turned her head to him, "Wrong. We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the messing pieces." She waited for him to agree, when he says nothing, she impatiently explains. "Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?"
"She worked at the museum." John replied.
"Exactly." I said. "An expert in antiquities. Mmm, of course. I see." John said finally catching up.
"Valuable antiquities, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China's home to thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution." I told him.
"And the Black Lotus is selling them." I tilt my head as I get an idea.
I'm sitting at the dining table surfing the Crispians' website for recent auctions, focusing on the auctions of Chinese and other Asian works of art. John and Eiric are leaning over my shoulders to look at the screen.
"Check for the dates," I said to myself as I skim through the list. I point to a particular auction lot – two Chinese Ming vases. "Here, Eiric. John."
"Mmm." Was both their reply. "Arrived from China a few months ago." I run my finger down the details and look at the Sale Information at the bottom which includes the statement "Source – Anonymous".
"Anonymous. Vendor doesn't give his name. Two undiscovered treasures from the East." I muttered.
"One in Luks' suitcase and one in Van Coon's." Eiric whispered. I move to the Quest search site and type into the search bar. ". . . antiquities sold at auction." The results list comes up.
"Look, here's another one." Eiric pointed to it.
"Mmm." John said to her. "Arrived from China a month before the vases did: Chinese ceramic statue, sold four hundred thousand." John consults to Lukis' diary as he spotted another entry on the screen.
"Ah, look: a month before that – a Chinese painting, half a million."
"All of them from an anonymous source. They're stealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain." I said.
"Huh." Was John reply. He looks at Lukis' diary again and then at the printout of Van Coon's calendar. "And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon travelling to China."
"So what if one of them got greedy when they were in China. What if one of them stole something?" I asked.
"That's why Zhi Zhu's come." Eiric answered with a slight shudder. Mrs. Hudson knocks on the open door of the living room.
"Yoo-hoo!" we turned to her. "Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock?" I looked at her in confusion, "What?"
"A young man's outside with crates of books."
Two uniformed police officers are carrying in yet another of the many plastic crates, dumping them in the living room.
"So, the numbers are references." I stated.
"To books?"
"To specific pages and specific words on those pages."
"Right, so … fifteen and one: that means. . ."
"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read."
"Okay. So what's the message?"
"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code. Has to be one that they both owned." I said snarkily to him.
"Sherlock," I turned my head towards Eiric, she was sitting on the couch with her father and son, reading a book from one of the crates, looking sharply at me. "Behave." I sighed but nodded in acceptance to her wish. John looks around despairingly at the many, many crates in the room, each either labelled "Van Coon" or "Lukis".
"Okay, right. Well this shouldn't take too long, should it?" he goes over to the nearest crate and flips open the lid, sighing tiredly as he sees the amount of books inside. I open another crate and start taking books out, looking over the cover of each one. John takes a handful from his crate and carries them over to the dining table and sits down. Dimmock walks in and holds up an evidence bag to me.
"We found these, at the museum." He shows the bag to John. It contains the photographs of the cipher which I had been showing to Soo Lin.
"Is this your writing?" John takes the bag, "Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us. Ta." Dimmock nods and turns back to me, stilling unloading my crate.
"Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?" without looking up, "Some silence right now would be marvelous." Eiric let out a giggle as Dimmock stared at me, then looks across to John, who shakes his head apologetically. Dimmock turns and leaves the room, shooting a scowl at Eiric.
I take out a book from a crate and realize that I already have one like it from another crate. I put them side by side – hard backed copies of Iain Banks' "Transition". Opening one of them to page fifteen, I look at the first word on the page.
"Cigarette." I slammed the book closed, I put both versions on top of the pile on the desk.
"Ah." I go back to rummaging through crates as John puts his pile onto the floor and goes back to get more from a crate. Eiric is on her second book, Teddy snuggled into her side as she leans on her father who was writing in a journal. Time moves on and later I find two more identical books, "Freakonomics", from the two men's collections. I flick to page fifteen, which is the beginning of a chapter headed "What do Schoolteachers and Sumo Wrestlers have in Common?" moving down to the first word of the chapter, I read it and then look up in frustration. "Imagine." Again I dump the two books on John's pile. Time moves on again and now it's day time. Snape had gone home, promising a sleepy Teddy that he would visit soon after Eiric had taken him to bed. I had removed my jacket, Eiric was on her twentieth book of the day, and John had taken his cardigan off but we were still in the same position since we started. Again time moves on and now the day light is even brighter outside. Books are scattered everywhere over the table and the floor and some of the crates have been shifted about. I was running my fingers through my hair and then look around at the crates and sigh. John's watch alarm goes off, he looks at it and then out the window as if to confirm that it really is the morning. He sighs tiredly and buries his head in his hands.
TPSH
Doctors' Surgery no one pov
The receptionist looks up apologetically at the first person in a queue of patients waiting to speak to her. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting." Someone in the queue sighs pointedly. "But we haven't got anything now 'til next Thursday." The woman at the front of the queue turns aside with an exasperated look on her face. "This is taking ages."
"Er. Sorry." Sarah had been walking through the waiting room but now turns back and comes over to the reception. "What's the point of making an appointment if they can't even stick to it?"
"Um, what's going on?" Sarah said to the receptionist.
"That new doctor you hired – he hasn't buzzed the intercom for ages." She said quietly to Sarah.
"Let me go and have a word."
"Yeah, thanks."
"'Scuse me." Sarah said to the queue as she walks away.
"Sorry." The receptionist said to the queue.
"What did she just say?" Sarah goes to John's consulting room and knocks on the door. "John?" she waits a few seconds but gets no reply. "John?" when there's still no reply, she opens the door and looks inside. John is behind the desk, his head propped up on one fist, and is fast asleep and snoring gently.
TPSH
John pov
I come out of my consulting room putting my coat on and walk over to Sarah who is standing behind the reception desk. I clear my throat awkwardly.
"Um, looks like I'm done. I thought I had some more to see." I said to her.
"Oh, I did one or two of yours." I looked at her questionably. "One or two?"
"Well, maybe five or six." I sigh at myself and looked down. "I'm sorry. That's not very professional."
"No. No, not really."
"I had, um, a bit of a late one." I said clenching my hands.
"Oh, right."
"Anyway, see you." I turn to walk away.
"So, um, what were you doing to keep you up so late?" I turned back to her. "Uh, I was, er, attending a sort of book event."
"Oh. Oh, she likes books does she, your . . . your girlfriend?" she looked down nonchalantly.
"Mmm? No, it wasn't a date."
"Good. I mean, um . . . ."
"And I don't have one tonight." We smile at each other.
TPSH
221B Eiric pov
Sherlock was still working on the crates but was now trying a different tack. I was now reading my thirtieth book give or take, since we started.
"A book that everyone would own." Sherlock said out loud but to himself. He turns to his bookcase and pulls down the Concise Oxford English Dictionary, the Holly Bible and a third book I could catch the title of. Putting them on top of the nearest crate, he opens the dictionary to the correct page. "Fifteen. Entry one." He moves on to the book he took down, turning to page 15 then putting that aside and flicking to page 15 in the Bible. As he closes the book, and John's bedroom door slams shut, he props his elbows on the crate and runs his fingers through his hair, ruffling it up. 'I wonder if his hair is as soft as it looks.' I felt my face lightly blush at that thought.
"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight." I looked up from my book to him.
"Actually, I've, er, got a date." John smiles smugly. "With that Doctor you work with John?" I asked getting up, he nods at me.
"What?" Sherlock looked at John in shock.
"It's were two people who like each other go out and have fun, Sherlock." I told him putting books back into crates nice and neat, the mess had started to get to me. Sherlock, looking me, "That's what I was suggesting." I looked to him in shock my heart skipping a beat.
"No it wasn't . . . at least I hope not." John said awkwardly to Sherlock thinking he was talking to him. I looked away with a light frown on face, 'Of course.'
"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock sounded rather sulky.
"Er, cinema." I scoff at that idea.
"Oh, dull, boring, predictable." I nodded my head agreeing with Sherlock. He takes out a piece of paper from his trouser pocket as he walks across to John, and lowers his head to hide a smug smile before handing it to him. "Why don't you try this?" John takes it and looks at the paper. "In London for one night only." John chuckles, then offers the paper back to Sherlock.
"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice."
TPSH
Sherlock and I were following John and Sarah up the slope towards a building. Sherlock had called back the Box Office after John had left and made me go change for a "Date". So I changed into a Slytherin green high neck tank top, a silver high waist skirt that stopped mid-thigh, panty hose, and black strap on stilettos. I put on a darker shade of red lipstick, smoky eye shadow, and let my hair hang down in nice, smooth curls. Sherlock's jaw dropping and eyes widening made all the better. We were walking hand and hand close enough to hear them talking.
"Its years since anyone took me to the circus." I rolled my eyes at the woman.
"Right, yes! Well, it's . . . a friend recommended it to me. He phoned up." John was chuckling nervously.
"Ah. What are they, a touring company or something?" they pause and look at a number of large red Chinese lanterns strung outside the hall. "I think they're probably from China!"
"Yes, I think . . . I think so, yes." Quietly to himself but still loud enough for Sherlock and I, "There's a coincidence!" they go inside to the Box Office where the manger is giving a customer her tickets.
"That's wonderful. Thank you very much."
"Okay." The customer turns and walks up the nearby stairs, 'Rude much.' John goes over to the office.
"Hi. I have, er, two tickets reserved for tonight."
"And what's the name?" John getting his wallet from his jacket, "Er, Holmes." The manger rifles through the reservations, the turns back to him with an envelope. "Actually, I have four in that name."
"No, I don't think so. We only booked two." John looked at him in shock.
"And then I phoned back and got one for Eiric and myself as well." John looks up in disbelief and turns to us as we walk over to them, Sherlock looking at Sarah as he offers her his hand.
"I'm Sherlock." I watch Sarah glance at John momentarily, then turns back to Sherlock and shakes his hand a little nervously. John turns to me in exasperation, I shrugged my shoulders at him.
"Er, hi."
"Hello." Sherlock gives her a fake smile, then instantly turns and walks away. I watch him walk off before turning to Sarah and put my hand out to her.
"'Ello, I'm Eiric, Sherlock's date." I said with a fake happy smile on my face. Sarah shakes my hand.
"Hi, I'm Sarah." I nodded my head and walk after Sherlock after she let goes of my hand.
John, Sherlock and I were standing a few steps up the stairs as people make their way past us. Sarah had gone to the loo. The boys were keeping their voices down as they talked.
"You couldn't let me have just one night off?"
"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England. . ."
". . . dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on, Sherlock, behave!"
"We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in Chins. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look around the place . . ."
"Fine. You do that; I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint."
"I need your help." Sherlock said sternly, I rolled my eyes at their little domestic.
"I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!"
"Like what?" John and I blink, staring at him in disbelief. "You are kidding."
"What's so important?"
"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. D'you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to . . ." he broke off. "What?" John losing his patience and talking much louder ". . . while I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" I closed my eyes, "Oh, Merlin fuck." I muttered, Sherlock snapped his head to me being the only to hear it, to see me leaning on the wall, arms crossed with a light frown on my face. Inevitably Sarah comes around the corner at that moment. John turns to her and smiles awkwardly. "Heyyy."
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock turns and heads up the stairs, grabbing my hand, dragging me after him.
"Ready?"
"Yeah!" they followed us up the stairs.
In the performance area there's a stage on one side of the large hall and the curtains are closed. However, it seems that the stage is not going to be used: a circle of candles has been laid out in the middle of the floor, about thirty feet in diameter. The room is dimly lit. The patrons are gathering around the circle but there are no seats. Apparently the number of tickets has been limited and there's room for everyone to stand around the circle with a clear view. Sarah and John stand side by side while Sherlock stands behind them with his back to them, looking all around the room and peering up to the ceiling with me standing facing forward beside him. John talks quietly over his shoulder to his flat mate, turning his head away from Sarah so that she can't hear.
"You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is . . . art." John grimaces with distaste.
"This is not their day job." Sherlock said quietly over his shoulder. "And what's wrong with art, John?" I whispered to him.
"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers. Nothing wrong with art, Eiric. Do you like art?"
"Yes, but mostly music to dance to. I love violin music the most, it's beautiful music." I said to him with a nod, missing Sherlock slight blush on his cheeks.
The performance begins with someone tapping out a rhythm on a tiny hand drum. Sherlock finally turns to face the same way as us and John looks over his shoulder at him and me. Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at him and I lightly smirk at him. An ornately costumed Chinese woman with a heavily painted face – traditionally known as the Opera Singer – walks into the center of the circle and looks imperiously out at the audience before raising a hand in the air. The drummer finishes his riff. The Opera Singer walks across the circle to a large object covered with a cloth which she now pulls back to reveal an antique-looking crossbow on a stand. She picks up a long thick wooden arrow with white feathers at one end and a vicious metal point at the other and shows it to the audience before fitting it into place in the crossbow. Straightening up, she pulls a single small white feather from her headdress and again shows it to the audience. On the rear of the crossbow is a small metal cup and she gently drops the feather into it. Instantly the arrow is released and whizzes across the room. Sherlock's and I heads whip around to follow its flight while John and Sarah are still gasping at the sound of the arrow's release. By the time they look round a moment later, the arrow is embedded in a large painted board on the other side of the circle. Sarah turns to John and laughs, dramatically putting her hand over her heart, I scoffed at her. John sends me a light-hearted glare while Sherlock puts his arm around my waist, smiling at me. Instrumental music begins, and the audience applauds as a new character enters the circle, wearing chainmail and an ornate head mask. He holds his arms out to the sides and two men come over and start to attach heavy chains and straps to him, strapping his now-folded arms in front of him and then backing him up against the board and starting to chain him to it.
"Classic Chinese escapology act." I said softly. John and Sarah turned to me. "Hmm?" John said.
"The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires." Sherlock told them. The Opera Singer loads another arrow into the crossbow. The men attach more padlocks and chains and one of them pulls a chain tight, yanking the warrior's head back against the board. The warrior cries out. The men loop the chains through solid rings attached to the board and secure the warrior, who cries out again. Once they've finished, they step away. The music begins building in intensity and cymbals crash unexpectedly. Sarah jumps, clutching at John's arm. I rolled my eyes at her phaticness. "Oh, God! I'm sorry!" She laughs in embarrassment, taking his arm with her other hand as well. John laughs with her, then smiles delightedly as she lets go with her more distant hand but continues to hold onto his arm with the other. The Opera Singer picks up a small knife and displays it to the audience.
"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." Sherlock and I spoke softly to them in unison. We looked at each in shock and then smiled at each other, quietly laughing. The Opera Singer does just what Sherlock and I predicted – she reaches up to a small sandbag hanging on a long cable and stabs the knife into the bottom of the sack. Sand begins to pour out, and the warrior repeatedly cries out with effort as he tugs at his chains. The sandbag's cable is looped over a pulley and a metal ball is attached to the other end. As the sand continues to pour out of the bag the weight lowers towards the bowl at the back of the crossbow. The warrior gets one hand free. John is watching the weight lower, and Sarah now looks nervously at it as it crosses paths with the sandbag on its way up. They turn to look at the warrior as he gets his other hand free and starts tugging at the chains around his neck. The weight is now only a few feet above the bowl and Sarah clings tightly to John's arm, grimacing. The warrior cries out again as he pulls at his chains and the weight gets ever closer. As it almost reaches the lip of the bowl the warrior loosens the chains around his neck and struggles to free weight touches the bowl and the arrow streaks across the room. With a split second to spare, the warrior pulls free of the chains and ducks down and the arrow thuds into the board. The warrior cries out triumphantly as the audience begins to applaud. Sarah gasps in relief.
"Thank God."
"My God." The warrior stands up and takes the applause. Still clapping, John looks over his shoulder, but Sherlock and I have vanished. John looks around the hall but can't see us anywhere.
Sherlock and I have made our way onto the stage, which is being used as the performers' dressing room. There's a dressing table with mirrors, free-standing clothes rails and many other items all around. He looks at everything and notices that it's almost as if another warrior is standing nearby – except that the chainmail and mask are hanging on a stand.
"You know, Sherlock, next time you take me on a fake date, don't."
In the performance area, the Opera Singer raises a hand to halt the audience's applause.
"Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider." As she walks away, a masked acrobat descends from the ceiling, rolling through the air as the broad red band wrapped around his waist unravels. The audience applauds and he stops a couple of feet above the ground, holding his body parallel to the floor.
"Did you see that?!" John said to Sarah. Descending to the floor, the acrobat removes the band from around his waist and splits it, revealing that it's made up of two strips of material which he now wraps around his arms and then runs around the circle before taking his weight on the bands, lifting into the air and flying around in a circle several feet above the ground, the red bands soaring out behind him. Sarah and John – and presumably the rest of the audience – stare up open-mouthed.
On the stage, Sherlock goes over to the curtains and parts them slightly to look out at the performance. He looks with interest at the acrobat as he floats around. I stand by the vanity. "Well, well." To the right of the stage, a door opens. Sherlock and I run to take cover, pushing through the middle of the clothes on the clothes rail and then quickly spreading the items out again as the Opera Singer comes onto the stage. She goes over to the dressing table and picks up a mobile phone, checking it, but looks round sharply as one of the hangars on the rail falls to the floor. Sherlock and I duck down, I glare at Sherlock for making the noise. The Opera Singer heads towards the rail and Sherlock and I have to crouch even lower but she continues on and leaves the stage. Sherlock looks down and sees a bag on the floor near his feet. Flipping it open, he finds several spray cans inside. He picks up one of them and sees that it is labelled "Michigan". A yellow band is across the bottom of the can denoting the colour of the paint.
"Found you." He said in a sing-song voice. I raised an eyebrow at him. "You did not just sing-song over a can." He sent a light glare at me as he stood up and pushes through the clothes on the rail and walks over to the mirrors on the dressing table. I followed him, snickering a bit. He bends down and sprays a single almost-horizontal yellow line across one of the mirrors. As we look at it, the warrior's costume behind us starts to move. Frowning, we turns around and realizes that the costume is no longer on a stand and now has a man inside it. The man charges forward, lashing out at Sherlock repeatedly with a large knife. Sherlock ducks backwards to avoid the blows as the warrior presses forward. I had jumped out of the way looking for something to use.
Outside, John and Sarah are still watching the acrobat. On the other side of the circle, the closed curtains on the stage begin to billow in one particular place. John frowns at the curtains for a moment but is then distracted back to the acrobat.
On the stage, Sherlock uses the can he's holding as a bit of a weapon, using it to block a blow from the warrior, ducking below the next swing of the man's knife, then clouting the can across the man's elbow. The warrior responds by kicking him hard in the stomach. I come up behind the warrior and side kick him in the head away from Sherlock, grabbing the warriors attention.
Outside, the acrobat does a dramatic roll down the bands. The audience applauds. Unnoticed, the curtains billow even more.
The warrior grab me by the throat but drops his knife in the process. I lash the man's hand away from my neck and then grab the spray paint can off the floor, and sprays the can directly into his masked face before bundling into him and shoving him away firmly. The warrior falls onto his back but uses his momentum to raise his legs and then roll forward and flip to his feet again. He takes a flying leap at me, spinning as he goes and his feet hit me in the chest. I'm propelled backwards through the curtains, straight over the edge of the stage and onto the floor a few feet below. Crashing onto my back, I struggles to get upright again but I'm too winded and can't move much as the warrior comes flying out of the curtains and onto the floor in front of me. John is on the move straightaway, running towards the warrior as he raises a knife and prepares to plunge it downwards. John charges straight into him, pushing him back against the edge of the stage but the warrior lashes out with one foot, sending John stumbling across the room.
Nearby, as the audience flees, the acrobat takes off his mask, takes one look at the fight and decides he wants no part of it, running off. Only one person is heading towards the fight and that's Sarah, who has found a sturdy broom from somewhere and comes charging across the hall while John is still stumbling across the floor trying to catch his balance and the warrior heads towards me, as I'm still lying on the floor winded – and the warrior now has a wide-bladed sword in one hand. As he raises the sword above his head, his concentration focused on delivering the killing blow to me, Sarah races across the floor and slams the handle end of the broom over the top of the warrior's head. He cries out in pain and before he can react or retaliate she swings the broom sideways and smashes it across his ribs. She instantly delivers a second blow to the same area and he falls to the ground, grunting and almost unconscious.
As Sarah straightens up, breathless, I finally sit up and lean forward to the warrior's right foot, pulling off his shoe to reveal a Tong tattoo on his heel. John has finally managed to turn around, though he's almost doubled over in pain and is still trying to catch his breath. As I scrambles to my feet John grabs Sarah's hand and starts to pull her towards the exit, Sherlock soon joins us and helps me up; starts pulling me to the exit as well.
"Come on." John said almost voicelessly. Sherlock and I race off ahead of them. "Come on! Let's go!"
TPSH
Dimmock storms into the office, followed by the boys, then me and then a rather bewildered Sarah. Dimmock is not in a good mood.
"I sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted." I winced as I sat down in a chair.
"Look, I saw the mark at the circus – that tattoo that Soo Lin showed us: the mark of the Tong." Not realizing that they found the same mark on the dead men. Dimmock had reached his desk and turned to face us.
"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable." John said to him.
"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back." Sherlock stated.
"Get what back?" Sherlock bites his lip, looking away angrily.
"We don't know." John said hesitantly.
"You don't know." Sherlock still won't meet his eyes. "Mr. Holmes." He sits down, "I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your and Eiric's advice is worth something." Sherlock lifts his head and gives a faint but proud smile. I sent a dark glare at him, making him lean back a little. "I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it – other than a massive bill for overtime." That's when I got up from my seat and punched him right in the eye.
Author note: Hey, guys! Another chap for you all, and please read my other stories and leave reviews! I hope you all are having a wonderful day and enjoy this chapter! Ta for now. Oh! Before I forget you can find Eiric's outfits on Polyvore , go to the search bar, select members, and then type in crazhetalia and you'll get her outfits for the next episode, this episode, for her and Sherlock's real first day (Which will be a oneshot), her Hogwarts years, and many others! Bah-bye now!