Jace breathes in and out slowly. His dark corner is high above the ground, the same height as Miller's coat pockets. They found out where Miller goes everyday, and the last known vantage point of where Mycroft's cameras stop. Watson and Holmes had dropped him off a while ago. So right now he's Holmesless, Watsonless, bagless, but not trackerless, and defiantly not fearless.
He shivers at the slight breeze. He's been through way worse, but still. He's going to be alone with a killer. A human too, which makes it even worse.
"I have the pictures. I really hope you appreciate the work," a voice murmurs. A shadow comes walking by as Jace crouches down, ready to jump. Miller walks into view and he leaps, landing perfectly in his left pocket as he turns the corner. Jace slips all the way to the bottom, careful to not make the human notice a sudden new weight.
He keeps walking though and Jace smirks in victory.
"Mr. Moriarty, I would be the best killer you can imagine. The police haven't been able to figure out I'm the killer yet." A pause. "Sherlock did become a little problem. But isn't he a problem to you too sir?"
Jace's blood freezes as he listens more. Apparently, someone named Moriarty wants another killer, so Miller applied for the job. To become his employee, Miller has to send in photos of his kills, then maybe he'll get the job. And he'll get a lot of money for working for him. About 50,000 dollars in American money per kill.
What kind of twisted person is he dealing with?
"Alright, I'll call you back as soon as I have the last target finished with." Miller shuts off the phone and pockets it on top of Jace. Jace quickly jumps away from getting crushed. He manages to not get crushed, but he gets pressed against the phone as Miller sits down. Jace sits still, not wanting to give his position away.
"Ugh. Why did killing get so hard?" Jace snorts quietly at this. He shouldn't want to kill at all. Miller begins to work on something and Jace slowly moves to his tracker still on his shirt.
Holmes had told him that when Miller was stationary, to hit a button that sends a pulse at his position. As Jace grabs the tracker, Miller stops working and pauses, almost as if he's listening. Jace pauses, finger hovering over the button.
"Come on. You can't seriously be asking for food?" he says. Jace listens but doesn't hear any humans around. And Miller's phone is smashing him. The man sighs and brings forward what sounds like a cage rattling across a desk.
"You should never ask me for food, ever. I saved you and I decide when to feed you." Jace sucks in a breath as the cage gets shoved again, eliciting a very small scream from above. Jace looks up but doesn't see anything. That sound, it sounded like a borrower. As he thinks, he sighs knowing how much Watson and Holmes are going to lecture him.
Nodding at what he's doing is to save more than humans, Jace unclips the tracker from his shirt and pins it on Miller's pocket. Clicking the button, he carefully shoves the phone off of him and climbs up the pocket. Miller walks around, muttering about how he should buy new gloves to hide his finger prints. As he walks, Jace climbs to the very top, and once he passes by a counter, leaps onto the top. He sprints behind a vase, panting softly.
Suddenly, there's a bang on the door.
"This is the police! Open up!" Miller spins to the door then runs out the back. Three seconds pass and Lestrade bangs open the locked door. He scans the room then yells at others to find the man who had ran. He pauses before leaving though, looking around the room.
"Jace, you in here?" he whispers. Jace cringes, knowing the human only wanted to check if he was there, and if he was could get him out. He stays hidden though and finally Lestrade runs out, shouting orders.
Once every noise outside is gone, Jace sprints across the counter and to the wooden desk sitting in the corner. He leaps, spotting the cage hidden behind a wooden crate full of tools and wires. Jace slows down as he nears, almost afraid of what he might find.
Circling around the crate, Jace meets bright blue eyes under a mass of light brown hair he never thought he'd see again.
SRSRSRSRSR
Sherlock walks up to Myles, a smirk on his face.
"Caught you. Next time make sure you have the camera with you before you kill the man." Myles sneers, angry he was caught.
"I knew I should've killed you too. You make everything a mess. They would've never found out if not for you Sherlock," Myles spats. John takes the coat handed to him by Lestrade with care. As Sherlock watches the scene of the case finally closing, John quickly searches the pockets for Jace. He takes out a watch, a phone, even a passport, but no sign of Jace.
John goes through the pockets again, even the inside ones. They tracked the tracker to here, where the coat and Myles is now, so where is Jace?
He stops when he feels a familiar object clipped to the inside of the coat's left pocket. John looks closely at it and freezes. He gently unclips it and holds it in his palm. He then offers his palm to Sherlock, who looks down at it in confusion.
"The tracker," he mutters, confirming John's suspicion.
"He took it off. He's no where to be found. Lestrade said he called for him in Myles' house but he didn't answer." John looks around, not understanding where the tiny boy could have gone.
"John, remember that one time Mycroft put a tracker on me?" Sherlock asks.
"You found it 20 minutes later and threw it into the river going in the exact opposite direction you were going," John smirks, remembering Sherlock laughing with joy that day.
"I don't think Jace wanted to be found, he had something to do without anyone around." John stares at Sherlock, not wanting to admit it.
"He's at Myles' place."