Sherlock plucked at the strings of his violin idly, staring straight ahead at Noah lying on the sofa. He'd quickly discovered why Noah had hidden behind a cap, easily removing the false stubble, wiping off the makeup used to hide more feminine bone structure, and being forced to remove the bandages that had held her breasts flat as they'd been torn and he needed access to the injuries on her back. Noah was, in fact, a woman. A woman who'd managed to hide from him while standing directly before him for days. She was no Irene Adler, charming him with her looks and savvy. No, she'd fooled him into considering her a friend, an equal.
His finger plucked a foul-sounding note and he closed his eyes, taking a breath and letting it out. The thought was quickly scratched out of his mind. He'd gotten over a lot of the sexist ideas that plagued the rest of the world since meeting Miss Adler and even before then, he'd seen what feats women could do when underestimated. The world would change given time. Turning away Noah now seemed almost idiotic after she'd saved him and John. He'd checked up on the man earlier in disguise as a doctor and found his injuries to be quite minor. Despite being the closest to the blast, Noah shoving him into the river had prevented further, more dangerous injuries.
His eyes opened again to study the woman sleeping soundly before him. Now that he knew who she was, things had become more muddled. The military aspects he'd seen were not a lie, but a woman disguising herself well enough to participate in war as a male was unheard of. No parent—having disowned her or otherwise—would've allowed for such things. She would've been found out if injured at any point or during one of their many health checks. Yet, the experience was there. Her fighting style was now painfully obvious, given she didn't quite have as much upper body strength as many men, she counter-acted their body weight accordingly. She dodged and redirected much like he did, though did get in hard hits when needed.
It was… strange though. Why go through all that trouble? For what purpose? If her story was true, as a runaway it would make sense to disguise oneself as male. Being a woman without a home or protection was dangerous. Yet, she could have made money doing any number of things, instead of bar fights. Irene must have known who she was as well, though her subtle jabs at him were rather annoying now that he looked back on it. However, Irene was fond of him. He knew that. So, why would Irene put this other woman in front of him? Nothing was making any sense. Least of all, this case with Lord Blackwood.
He finally got frustrated with all the arguing voices in his head and chucked his violin to the ground, lighting his pipe. Words and names were scribbled on the wall behind him, a vain attempt to try and gather his thoughts. A few puffs of tobacco helped clear his head and let him focus again before a wild thought came to him. Gathering the supplies he had, he started creating a spell of his own, drawing himself into a trance state to get through the case before he passed out. He woke rather startled, seeing John seated in a chair across the way checking up on Noah and Irene in front of him curiously.
"Good morning," she murmured, clasping his hand and getting up. "Now, you need to work."
"Familiar artwork," John commented, smiling over at Sherlock as he pushed himself up as well, shaking off the aftermath of his little mind trip. "You look gorgeous."
"How's Noah?" He asked, pulling a handkerchief out and giving the woman a glance. "Or, Miss Harris, as it were."
"Not in the best of shape, but she should wake soon," John said. "Did you—"
"No," Sherlock answered his unsaid question. "Not until the explosion. She lost her cap."
"But surely—"
Sherlock closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. "No. No, I didn't see any other signs, John. Just as you and everyone else. Is that why you brought her here?" He asked Irene. "To rub it in my face. Sherlock Holmes, so clever he can't even see a woman standing right in front of him?"
Irene sighed. "I found her dying in an alleyway."
Sherlock went silent at that and even John had frozen in place.
"She'd gotten caught in a bar fight. Protected a maid who was getting harassed. Police were called, they were rounded up after she beat them within an inch of their lives, but she slipped away before she could get dragged in herself. Her cap had come off in the fight and I knew who she was right away. It caught my interest and I followed her trail. Found her three blocks away half-collapsed with a knife in her chest." Irene let out a bitter laugh. "She was muttering to herself about first aid treatment and unsanitary conditions. She took in every available resource in that alleyway and had just come to the conclusion that attempting to start a fire to heat the blade and cauterize the wound would be her only option. Or, of course, turn herself in and escape jail later.
"I took her to a hospital and helped her get cleaned up. She thanked me as soon as she was conscious and wanted to pay me back. She had nothing but the clothes on her back but told me if I needed anything done, she would figure out how to do it. I took her on one job, expecting her to fail, and instead she succeeded and then some. The diamond was her idea."
Sherlock's eyes widened, remembering the diamond that hung around Irene's neck that had been stolen. The case was unsolved though he could see Irene's signature all over it. The fact that someone else had come up with it, meant not only clever planning, but the ability to plan it out to fit Irene's signature.
"She was like you, Holmes," Irene finished, moving over to Noah and brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I couldn't let her get dragged into this and knew the safest place she'd be, would be with you."
"Why hide from us though?" John asked, curious.
"It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, Dr. Watson," Irene replied. "For women especially. Intelligence and looks only get you so far. She's not cut out to be a chambermaid."
Sherlock chewed that over for a minute before taking a breath. "Somehow, I knew you wouldn't leave."
Irene glanced at him from over her shoulder before scooping up a newspaper with his name splattered across the front. "You've made the front page."
"Only a name and no picture," Sherlock hummed.
"So, it looks like you'll be needing to work outside the law now and that's my area of expertise."
"I feel safer already," Sherlock quipped, nodding to Noah. "I'd say it's more her area of expertise, though it's hard for one to feel safe with an unconscious person."
John stood then with a roll of his eyes.
"You seem to be making a rapid recovery," Sherlock commented, taking note of his arm sling.
"Yes. Took the shrapnel out myself, though the dip in the river prevented worse from happening," he mused, sitting on the edge of the bed Sherlock was on. "Mary said I had a lousy doctor."
They settled into silence for a moment before Sherlock spoke.
"Well, I'm just so… so very glad that you're… well… with us."
John cleared his throat awkwardly as someone groaned.
"You two should get married," Noah complained, sitting up carefully and wincing as she touched the bandages on her head. "All your bickering and whining. Do you know what it's like to be sat in the middle of that? Mary's certainly got her work cut out for her."
"Have a nice nap, Miss Harris?"
Noah flipped him the bird, making John's mouth drop open and Irene snorted as Sherlock smiled.
"Good to see the concussion has done wonders on your temper."
"Oh, fuck off," she complained. "You want to see temper? Call me Miss Harris one more time."
Sherlock held up his hands. "Noah it is."
"Twat," she grumbled. "We have any alcohol?"
Sherlock reached over and tossed her a small bottle that she deftly caught and downed as John continued to gape and Sherlock stood.
"Right. Now that you're sitting comfortably and Noah has awakened, I shall begin." He moved to the other side of the pentagram drawn on the floor that Noah frowned at momentarily before shaking her head—not really wanting to know what happened while she was unconscious. "My initial approach was far too narrow. When Blackwood invited me to Pentonville Prison he suggested I widen my gaze and, at minimum, I have done just that. In fact, I may well have reconciled thousands of years of theological disparity. But that's for another time."
"I'm going to need more alcohol for this," Noah muttered, starting to remove the bandages around her head as Sherlock went on.
"Blackwood's method is based on a ritualistic mystical system that's been employed by the Temple of the Four Orders for centuries. To fully understand the system, to get inside it, I reenacted the ceremony we interrupted at the crypt with a few enhancements of my own. My journey took me somewhat further down the rabbit hole than I had intended and though I dirtied my fluffy white tail, I have emerged enlightened."
Noah didn't look convinced. "Sorry, so while I was unconscious, you got high and or drunk to try and get your head straight?"
Sherlock sighed. "Yes, yes. If you must dumb it down and ignore the complicated methods I have used, sure. I… as you said… dabbled in a few substances to assist in clearing my mind. Now, the point, if I may?"
Noah waved him on, taking another swig of the alcohol he'd given her and wrinkling her nose as she settled in for his little explanation.
"The fraternity who silently control the empire share the belief with the kings, pharaohs, and emperors of old that the sphinx was a door to another dimension; a gateway to immeasurable power," he said, tapping his cane on the drawing of said creature at the top of his diagram. "It's made up of four parts: the foot of a lion, the tail of an ox, the wings of an eagle, and the head of a man. In Sir Thomas's secret chamber, I found the bone of an ox, the tooth of a lion, the feather of an eagle, and the hair of a man. Map."
John reached down and pulled out a map that he and Irene spread across the floor. Noah went to get up, but Sherlock swung the cane around and placed its point on her chest, pushing her back down.
"Sit. Listen."
Noah rolled her eyes but sat and waited. He half expected more of a fight but the woman was in pain and didn't appear eager to be moving about anytime soon.
"The points of the star represent the five murdered girls, but the cross is what we're now interested in. It's a widely held belief that within the architecture of the great cities are coded references to this system. Since he rose from the grave, Blackwood has killed three men. Each committed at a location that has a connection with the temple, therefore, the system."
"Oh," Noah said then, getting up despite Sherlock having told her to stay seated as she moved to sit with them on the floor. "Each man was part of the sphinx. Reordan was the man—"
"Found here," Sherlock said, tapping the map.
"Sir Thomas had an ox ring."
"He died here."
"And the third was that ambassador to America, the eagle."
"Standish," Sherlock nodded, tapping again. "The headquarters of the Temple of the Four Orders where he died is here."
"So, all that's left is the lion," Noah pointed on the map where the final piece to the cross would be. "Here."
"Parliament," John gaped just as shouting was heard downstairs.
The police had arrived and would undoubtedly find them, so Sherlock scrambled to his feet with the others; plans already set in motion.
"Right this way. Ladies first," he said, opening a hatch as the officers pounded on the door. "Noah, you next."
Noah, though, frowned not moving and John took her spot as Sherlock handed him a folded note.
"Follow these instructions," he bit out, closing the hatch and forcing John down before glaring at Noah. "Why are you making things difficult?"
"Because you started it," she grumbled, rushing up to the door and slipping behind it just as it opened, remaining out of sight of Lestrade as he stepped in.
"Hello, hello, hello. Did the devil turn up? Well, never mind. You got the next best thing."
Sherlock turned and was cuffed and led out, hoping that Noah had some sort of idea what she was doing.
I'd dressed quickly after knocking out the officer in the back, slipping into line with the others after using a bit of honey to stick some of the man's scissored hair to my upper lip. It was a haphazard disguise at best, but it would work to fool the officers and it was all I had at hand in the pub we'd been hiding out in. Sherlock undoubtedly noticed the scent of honey but I kept my gaze pointed out the back of the carriage and he said nothing as we stepped out and hauled him through the police station. Instead of going to the holding cells, however, we brought him upstairs and Lestrade alone took him into a room. I was closest to the door and listened.
"Beg your pardon, my Lord. I know that it's unorthodox, but Mr. Holmes here… He's been making some serious accusations about you and the order."
I rolled my eyes. Of course. Must be one of the other power-hungry higher-ups of the Order who dragged him here. I pinched the bridge of my nose as the Lord spoke.
"I see."
"Well, at least that solves the great mystery as to how you became inspector," Sherlock quipped and I had to resist the urge to rush in when I heard him grunt in pain.
"Excuse me, my Lord, but I've been wanting to do that for a long time."
"Well, inspector, I have five minutes before my next engagement so why don't you regale me with your stories of conspiracy? Thank you, Lestrade."
"My Lord."
Lestrade stepped out and started to lead his officers away. I followed for only a moment in the very back of the group before slipping away and moving back up the steps.
"Tedious," I muttered under my breath, reaching up and pulling out a few pins from my hair to start working the lock that had been latched not long after we'd stepped away. "Man can't stay safe for more than a second. What was he hoping to get from him anyway?"
A hint of smoke floated out from under the door and I shook my head as the latch quietly clicked and I stood, slipping into the room. Sherlock had closed the fireplace cover, forcing the smoke to billow up around the room. Lord Coward had just opened a window and was searching the covering for Sherlock, gun drawn as I resisted the urge to sigh, tucked just out of sight behind a pillar as Sherlock's voice echoed in the room.
"You and Blackwood laid the final touches to your ceremony in the sewers beneath Parliament less than an hour ago. Both houses meet today. The whole government will be present."
There was a clatter of chains and I smirked in the shadows as Sherlock's cuffs slid across the tile while Lord Coward went to double-check the door was latched. Given I'd just unlatched it, he locked it again with a mild frown of confusion as he spoke to Sherlock.
"It's a shame you made an enemy out of Blackwood, Holmes. You would've made a valuable ally… How terrible is wisdom when it brings no profit to the wise? We take power at noon."
"There isn't any time to waste then, is there?" Sherlock asked, seated behind Lord Coward and smoking his pipe just as the man whipped around to fire at him.
He stopped short though, gun held up away from Sherlock by a baton as the pistol I'd stolen from the officer before rested just under his jaw.
"You really are troublesome, Sherlock, I hope you know that," I chided the man, who cracked a smile as he stood.
"Not your best work," he noted, touching his own upper lip. "It's cut a bit uneven and I could smell the honey you used to apply it back in the carriage."
"I didn't have much time to apply it, nor the proper materials to work with. Just be glad the officers here are idiots and didn't even notice. Cuffs?"
Sherlock picked them up and tossed them over as I hit the man on the wrist, forcing him to drop the pistol so I could drop the baton and catch them.
"I'll ensure you're fired for this," Lord Coward snarled. "I'll have your badge."
I put the gun away and rolled my eyes, forcing him into a chair and cuffing his hands behind his back easily. "Yes, well, bit of trouble with that. I'm not actually an officer. Though do feel free to fire whoever's outfit I stole. He was far too easy to one-up."
I removed my police helmet and dropped it on his head, turning to Holmes near the window.
"Up for a swim?" He asked and I sighed, removing the added cloak from the uniform and stripping free of the jacket and trousers I'd just thrown over my own clothes.
"If we must."
He waved to the door when I'd finished. "Ladies first."
"Twat," I bit at him climbing into the window and taking a leap out into the chilled water of the Thames.
He followed soon after, popping his pipe right back into his mouth as John threw us a rope and I swam for it while Sherlock was pulled in. Clambering back into the boat, I settled on the ground to catch my breath as the boat captain grinned.
"I told you he'd be coming out the top window, soldier boy. There isn't any way he'd be coming over that terrace."
"Technically that isn't the top window is it, sailor boy," John quipped as Irene handed Sherlock and I thick blankets.
"What is it?"
"Well, it's the middle window."
"Anyway!" Sherlock said loudly, getting us all back on track. "You'll be pleased to know Lestrade performed his role perfectly. In fact, I think he enjoyed it. Though your assistance was a bit of a surprise, Noah."
I wrinkled my nose, wiping off residual honey and hair from my lip. "Like I'd let you go off and be stupid on your own,"
"You got all you needed from Coward?" John asked.
"Yes, I smoked him out with relative ease. Tanner?"
"Sir," the captain hummed.
"If you would, captain, take us under the bridge, port side, approximately 100 yards. Beyond that, you'll find the tunnel that leads us to the sewers."
"Right away, sir."
The boat chugged along before Irene offered a spare coat that I gratefully took, wincing slightly while pulling it on.
"How're your injuries, Noah?" John asked, stepping over to check on me.
"I'll need a nice bath after this and some fresh bandages, but I'm fine. I've had worse."
"So we've been told. Knife to the chest?"
I shot Irene a look. "Just went and told them everything, did ya?"
"It's impressive," she shrugged with a smirk. "You never did tell me what you decided. Were you going to cauterize it or turn yourself in?"
"Couldn't think straight after the left hook to the temple, so would've probably passed out and gotten picked up by a Bobbie. If they didn't connect me to the bar fight right off, escape would've been easy when I woke up from treatment. Escaped from a hospital once already, thanks."
"Whatever for!" John balked, making me raise a brow.
"You honestly don't remember? You're the one who found me, doctor. All decked out in a green jumpsuit, half-delirious?" I lifted a finger. "I'd remember that mustache a mile away."
The memory seemed to click then as his eyes widened. "That was you?"
"Hold on," Sherlock cut in. "You've met her?"
"I… I do believe I have. She's… She's that person I told you about months back. I said she was wearing a strange sort of uniform, half passed out just off the Thames."
"Did you? I must have forgotten."
"Or you weren't listening in the first place," John grumbled as the ship started to slow and we got ready to disembark.
We all slipped into the sewers and soon found the men and the machine they were preparing underneath Parliament.
"Behold, Blackwood's weapon revealed," Sherlock hummed.
"What does it do?"
"It's a chemical weapon," I realized. "Blackwood's going to play it off as magic. Filter toxic gas up through the vents."
"First of its kind," Sherlock agreed.
"You deduced that, how?" Irene asked and Sherlock pulled a rat tail out of his pocket.
"From my pocket. I snipped this off a rather recumbent rat at the slaughterhouse. Note the blue discoloration, the faint smell of bitter almonds."
"Cyanide?" I questioned, getting a nod before John shushed us, pistol to his lips.
Sherlock leaned over him and used a spyglass to eye the machine. "Now we know what the ginger midget was working on. It'll revolutionize warfare."
"Like we don't have enough weapons," I murmured, spotting Irene slipping away and I shook my head, slipping off with her. "Quiet or loud?"
Irene smirked, pulling out her own pistol as I did the same. "Loud, of course."
I cracked a smile and we both ducked out from behind a set of pillars, firing off shots and I hit my marks but she missed one of hers. A bullet went whizzing by and I shot her a look.
"You missed?"
"Well, not all of us can be expert marksmen."
Sherlock and John joined us as well, Irene getting into a fistfight with one man as John took the shooter across the way. Sherlock got his gun knocked out of his hand by someone and I sighed, stepping into his fight and easily slipping into a kung fu stance. If the Chinese opponent I was fighting was surprised, he didn't show it as I pushed Sherlock towards the machine and grabbed the leg that had been swung at my head.
"Take care of the machine," I spat, twisting the man around by his leg and giving Sherlock a look. "Or I'll just shoot it."
"Right. On it."
He hurried over to help Irene as I kicked the back of the man's knee, sending him onto his hands before swinging him by the leg into a pillar. I let him go, heel stomping on one ankle and adding a solid punch to the temple before hurrying over to help John who was dealing with two men. I drew my pistol, aiming it at the back of John's head.
"John!"
The man whipped around and ducked as I fired, killing one of the men he was dealing with and turning my gun to the other. I clipped him in the shoulder, John gave me a nod of thanks as I threw away the emptied pistol. John started getting the men gathered and shooing them out and I turned to the two working on the machine just as there was a shout and John came flying back into the room.
"You've got to be joking," I grumbled as our old friend Dredger stepped in.
Irene fired her last two shots at him—one bouncing off the ax he held and the other passing harmlessly through his hat.
"Tu m'a manqué?" (Did you miss me?) He asked and Sherlock pushed Irene's armed hand down.
"I rather wish you hadn't done that, Irene."
The machine started up then as we heard the bell outside start to chime. Irene asked Sherlock for his pipe and I moved up beside him with a sigh.
"We really need to stop bumping into this guy."
I pulled off my coat and as Dredger did the same, he was grabbed by John from behind.
"Nut him!"
I gave Sherlock a glance, shrugged, and rushed in, kicking the man solidly between the legs. Both Sherlock and John grimaced as the man groaned and fell to a knee, but I ignored them and wrapped my coat sleeves around Dredger's neck, pulling tight. The giant struggled and I grimaced as he began to get back to his feet, shoving John off while I clung to the coat and wrapped my legs around him to hang on. Dredger stumbled back, making me cringe when he slammed my back into a wall and I shouted at Sherlock.
"Hurry up and stop the machine!"
I was again rammed into the wall and John attempted to help only to easily get shoved aside by Dredger as he grabbed at the coat around his neck. I held firm though, working on getting my legs up around his neck as well. If I can wrap my legs around his neck and swing my full body weight back, that should—My eyes went wide as his hand managed to grab my arm, swinging me around his neck until I was hanging in front of him.
"Shit," I muttered as his fist reared back and I let the coat go, swinging myself down towards his legs and grabbing the back of his calves.
I unwrapped my legs from around his neck when I could tell I wouldn't be able to flip him with my strength and slid myself under his legs before shoving a firm heel at his backside. He stumbled forward but did not fall as he ripped the coat off his neck and growled as he faced me.
"Right, I may have only just pissed him off more. Sherlock? I hope you're nearly done!" I shouted, ducking under a fist and slamming my battered knuckles into the giant's jaw to no effect.
He grabbed his ax and went to swing it at me, but John wrapped his coat around it and stopped him, only to get thrown my way. We exchanged looks before accepting we'd be on our own for this fight while Irene and Sherlock dealt with the machine.
"Coat?"
"Got it," he said, throwing his coat over Dredger's face where I got in a few shots, elbowing the man and wincing when I heard and felt the snapping of his nose breaking under a well-placed elbow hit.
The coat was pulled off and Dredger swung his ax at John who ducked, before slamming a fist into my gut. I choked on air, hitting the ground and rolling out of the way in time to dodge the ax swinging down towards my face. I grabbed ahold of it with my arm and swung a foot up to kick his hand free of it before John attempted to use the coat again to strangle the man. I swung the ax towards the inside of the man's leg and Dredger grabbed it before it could land. It still gave me a free kick before Dredger toppled to the ground and I used his grip on the ax to wrap my legs around his arm and hold him still.
"Woman!" We heard Sherlock shout, stumbling up onto his feet and going after Irene who'd rushed out the door with part of the machine.
I looked at John. "You got him?"
He nodded. "Go!"
I jerked Dredger's wrist, dislocating it before climbing off him and getting up to run after Sherlock.
"Take care of him, Noah!" John shouted and I paused once to give him a nod before chasing after Sherlock as Irene's question from before rang in my ears.
"If you had to choose…"
"Did you take a wrong turning somewhere?" Sherlock joked as he caught up to Irene standing on the top edge of the incomplete suspension bridge.
Irene turned to him. "We're safe now."
"Interesting assessment," he said walking towards her and slowly switching sides so he was closer to the edge than her. "Run off. I won't be chasing you anymore. Fare thee well."
She paused though. "I don't want to run anymore. I'll tell you everything."
"I wish you would," he snapped, rather frustrated with the woman at this point.
It was obvious she was clever. Yet somehow not clever enough to realize the position she put herself and everyone else in by attempting to play coy.
Blackwood suddenly dropped down in front of her, taking the machine part as she drew her pistol. He knocked the pistol out of her hand and she swung a hand around, slapping him and slicing the front of his waistcoat with a blade before he backhanded her with his cane. She choked on a gasp, faltering dangerously close to the edge of the bridge and Sherlock took a step forward only for Blackwood to press his cane to her chest. Blackwood exchanged a look with Sherlock and jerked the cane, pushing Irene just as a streak of white shoved him forward.
Sherlock stared in shock as Noah dropped to the ground and clung to Irene's arm, a grimace of pain on her face and a dark red stain showing through her white shirt at the shoulder. Blackwood scowled, storming over and pressing his heel into Noah's shoulder as Sherlock stood there, uncertain what to do. Noah gave him a glance then and a hint of relief settled over him. She had a plan.
She abruptly twisted, grabbing Blackwood by the leg and taking the machine part out of his hand. Irene wasn't in her grasp but Sherlock knew there was a platform below that would have caught her. He moved in and reached for the machine part, but a cane knocked his arm back and Blackwood's heel slammed into Noah's gut, making her release him. Sherlock grabbed the cane before it could be swung at her, but Blackwood stepped back, sliding the scabbard off his sword that had been hidden away.
"Noah!" Sherlock shouted, seeing the added danger to her and she swiftly threw herself back onto her feet as the blade swung over her.
Blackwood picked up the machine part and Sherlock swung the cane at him, getting blocked by the sword. The two fought with them for a moment before Sherlock grabbed a hold of some ropes, swinging around and spotting Noah with a loop of chains attempting to deal with Blackwood. He was rather impressed as she swung them offensively and blocked hits well, wrapping the length of the chain around Blackwood's sword and attempting to tangle him in it. When Sherlock got his feet under him, it was back to sword fighting and Blackwood was beginning to struggle given the two-on-one situation.
Sherlock actually had him pinned for a moment, but in his haste to reach for the machine part, Blackwood was thrown back off his feet and Sherlock towards the edge of the bridge. Noah's eyes flickered to him and Sherlock shook his head, knowing he could get up but they couldn't let Blackwood get away again. So, she turned her attention to Blackwood as he got to his feet and she rushed for him only for a gunshot to go off.
"No!" Sherlock bellowed, seeing Noah starting to drop.
Anger flooded through him and he spotted an opportunity, kicking a heavy weight off the end of the bridge and watching as the rope on it wrapped around Blackwood's ankle, yanking him down the length of the bridge where Sherlock was able to grab the machine part out of his hands. Blackwood caught himself on the wood floor last minute though, hanging on desperately to avoid falling off the bridge to his death below.
"There was never any magic," Sherlock spat, holding up the machine part. "Only conjuring tricks."
He went over to check on Noah, pressing his fingers to her neck only for her to whip around and punch him in the jaw. She hovered over him for a moment, eyes wild before she realized she'd hit him and not Blackwood.
"Oh… Sorry…" She muttered as Sherlock rubbed his jaw.
"No. No. Probably deserved that." His eyes drifted to the blood on her shirt, a flare of concern drifting through him as she sighed and clambered up off him. "You were hit."
"'m fine," she said, skin pale and leaning on a wood beam nearby, touching her shoulder. "Through and through." Her eyes drifted to Blackwood though as he slipped down a bit further. "Knew it wasn't magic."
Sherlock's lip twitched up. "No. The simplest trick involved paying people off like the guard who pretended to be possessed outside his cell." He looked over to Blackwood. "Your reputation and the inmates' fear did the rest. Others required more elaborate preparations like the sandstone slab that covered your tomb. You had it broken before your burial then put back together using a mild adhesive. An ancient Egyptian recipe, I believe. A mixture of egg and honey designed to be washed away by the rain."
A board flipped up and Blackwood slid down to the end of the bridge.
"Holmes!"
"Arranging for your father to drown in his own bathtub required more modern science," Sherlock continued, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to Noah to press against her wound, uncaring about the man's predicament. "Very clever of Reordan to find a paralytic that was activated by the combination of copper and water, and was therefore undetectable once the bathwater was drained."
"The frogs," Noah muttered, making Sherlock snap his fingers over at her as he stared down Blackwood.
"That might've been a challenge for me had he not also tested it on some unfortunate amphibians, as Noah remembered."
Another board flipped and the criminal slipped further as Sherlock wandered around him.
"The death of Standish was a real mystery until you used the same compound to blow up the wharf. An odorless tasteless flammable liquid, yet it burned with an unusual pinkish hue. Did Standish mistaken it for rain as he entered the temple? All it took was a spark. A simple rigged bullet in his gun. Ingenious." Sherlock slid the man's sword back into its cane-shaped scabbard. "Like all great performers, you saved your picce de résistance for the end. A chemical weapon distilled from cyanide and refined in the bellies of swine. Had it worked, your followers in Parliament would have watched unharmed as their colleagues were dying around them. They didn't know you'd given them the antidote.
"Instead they would've believed it was magic and that you'd harnessed the ultimate power. And the world would have followed, fear being the most powerful weapon of all. You'd better hope that it's nothing more than superstition as you performed all the rituals perfectly. The devil's due a soul, I'd say."
"For God's sake, Holmes, cut me loose!" Blackwood demanded, though only one set of eyes saw the metal pillar above starting to slip.
Another board slipped and Blackwood would've fallen to his death if Sherlock hadn't thrown an ax at the rope connecting him to the weight below. Blackwood heaved himself up out of the hole he'd been hanging from, out of breath and bitter.
"First, the world will see you for what you are. A fraud," Sherlock declared, cane tucked under his arm as he looked out at London below. "Then, you'll be hanged. Properly this time."
He hadn't seen the ax getting grabbed by Blackwood.
"It's a long journey from here to the rope," the man threatened, just as the pillar fell and Noah grabbed Sherlock by the coat, hauling him back to safety before he could get hit or pulled over the edge.
Blackwood wasn't as lucky, falling through the hole it made into some chains that were quick to snap and hang him from the bridge. Sherlock and Noah peered down at him for a second before Sherlock nodded for them to grab Irene, who waited on the platform below, unconscious from having fainted. She woke as Sherlock sat beside her, taking her pulse and putting a pair of cuffs around her wrist.
"I've never woken up in handcuffs before."
"I have. Noah as well," he commented, getting a wince from Noah as he tightened his scarf around her shoulder injury. "Naked… Me, of course, not her."
"Storm's coming," Irene noted, though she wasn't talking about the thundering rain clouds in the distance.
"Well, we've still got a moment."
"...Moriarty," Irene finally said, drawing both his and Noah's attention.
"What?"
"That's his name and he is a professor. Everyone has a weak spot and he found mine," she explained.
Sherlock turned to her, playing oblivious. "Where was it, precisely?"
They exchanged looks of mild amusement before Irene's small smile faltered.
"Please don't underestimate him. Either of you. He's just as brilliant as you are and infinitely more devious."
"We'll see about that," Sherlock hummed, removing the diamond around her neck as she smiled and he got up.
"You'll miss me, Sherlock."
Sherlock squatted beside her. "Sadly, yes."
He wiped a tear off her cheek and kissed her temple. "Come along, Noah."
Noah glanced over at him with a raised brow and Sherlock turned, matching the look.
"You're not getting away that easily you know. I've still got questions for you."
Noah pushed herself up with a grimace, faltering until Sherlock grabbed her arm with a smirk.
"Besides, it seems I've got a spare room."
I stepped into the room after hearing a gasp, chewing on some walnuts and spotting John and his wife staring at Sherlock as he dangled from the ceiling.
"Don't worry, dear," John reassured Mary. "Suicide is not in his repertoire. He's far too fond of himself for that."
"Narcissistic," I hummed, drawing their attention to me as I chucked a nut at Sherlock's forehead, startling him into paying attention.
"Did you just call me narcissistic?" He complained as I pointed at John and Mary behind him, settling down in a seat. "Oh, good afternoon. I was trying to deduce the manner in which Blackwood survived his execution. Clearing your good name, as it were. But it had a surprisingly soporific effect and I was carried off in the arms of Morpheus like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Good afternoon, dear."
"Get on with it, Holmes," John said, patting his arm as I moved to let Mary have my seat—only briefly considering righting the chair Sherlock had knocked over.
"It's a harness," I answered for Sherlock, giving the disgruntled detective a look. "He's got it rigged up a bit poorly so the… soporific effect is just the lack of blood circulation to his big, fat, egotistical skull."
"Is this because I ignored your advice on the placement of the straps?" Sherlock complained. "I just don't see how having two straps nestled on my inner thighs would be in any way comfortable for a male figure, such as myself."
I shot John a look. "You're leaving me with this, you know. If he's not dead by the time you get dragged back here, it'll be a miracle."
"Dear, my legs have fallen asleep. I should come down," Sherlock said then as Mary glanced at John.
"John, shouldn't we help him down?"
"No, no, no. I'd hate to cut him off midstream. Carry on, Holmes, since your explanation seems far more elaborate than what Noah just told us."
"Um… well, the executioner attached a hook hidden in the hangman's noose to a harness, thus allowing the weight to be distributed around the waist and the neck to remain intact." Sherlock touched his cheek. "My Lord, I can't feel my cheeks. Might we continue this at ground level?"
"How did you manage it, Holmes?" John asked and Sherlock undid his waistcoat.
"I managed it with braces, belts, and a coat hook. Oh, please, Watson. My tongue is going. I'll be of no use to you at all."
"Worse things could happen."
"John," Mary scolded and I lifted a hand that held a knife.
"I got it."
With a flick of the wrist, the blade sliced through a good portion of the rope, enough that Sherlock's weight tore the rest and he toppled to the ground.
"None of this explains Blackwood's lack of pulse," John mused as Sherlock picked himself up.
"Now, the medical mystery. We must restore your reputation, Watson. There is a toxin refined from the nectar of the rhododendron ponticum. It's quite infamous in the region of Turkey bordering the Black Sea for its ability to induce an apparently mortal paralysis."
"Though the toxin of a pufferfish would probably do the same," I noted, drawing their attention to me as Sherlock threw me the harness and I rolled my eyes before making the adjustments I knew he wanted me to do. "Sorry, continue."
Sherlock cleared his throat. "Enough to mislead a medical mind even as tenacious and well-trained as your own. It's known locally as—"
"What's wrong with Gladstone?" Mary asked then, eyeing the bulldog as it lay on its side seemingly dead.
"—Mad honey disease," Sherlock finished. "Well, he's demonstrating the very effect I've just described. He doesn't mind."
Mary got up to check on the dog but even John wasn't as concerned.
"Mary, don't worry. He's seen far worse."
"Well, Noah wouldn't let me try it on her."
"I've had enough drugs pumped into my system for one day, thanks," I complained, standing and showing him the improved harness that looked more like the modern rock-climbing harnesses used. "See? This will take the weight better and if hooked up properly, one can sit as though in a chair."
Sherlock got up and walked around me, eyeing its design. "Hm, yes. While I'm not thrilled about the placement of the straps, they do leave enough room for more…" He paused, looking up at me from my waist as I raised a brow, warning him to watch his words. "...masculine features."
"You can just say it, you know. I'm hardly going to be offended if you were to just out and say coc—"
"Mr. Holmes?"
I was cut off as Clark stepped in, greeting everyone.
"Doctor, Miss Mary, and… um…"
"Noah Harris," I introduced nodding to Sherlock. "His newest addition."
"Right. Sir, Inspector Lestrade asks that you come with me right away."
"What is it this time, Clarkie?" Sherlock asked, standing upright and prodding at my shoulder, to which I smacked his hand away.
It was still tender given the gunshot wound and previous injuries of our little shrapnel party on the wharf.
"It's one of our sergeants, sir. He went missing in the sewers the day you stopped Lord Blackwood. I'm afraid sewage workers found his body just this morning, sir. We believe the sergeant was our first man on the scene. Shot in the head."
"Was it a small-caliber bullet?" Sherlock asked, giving me a brief knowing look before pacing the room.
"Yes."
"Were there powder burns on his eyebrows?"
"Indeed, sir."
"Point blank range?" John added as Sherlock hummed.
"Moriarty. Professor Moriarty."
"And the device?" I asked, knowing how dangerous it'd be in the wrong hands. "Is there anything missing?"
Clark nodded. "Secret Service have it, sir. They've taken over the case. I wouldn't know if anything was missing."
I hummed but the answer was obvious, even to us.
"So, Moriarty was after a piece of the machine, not the poison," John concluded.
"Not the piece Irene took either," I supplied.
"There's nothing more elusive than an obvious fact," Sherlock mused. "The wire-free invention was the game all along."
"And Adler just the diversion," John understood.
"He knew I'd chase after her, thereby leaving the machine-accessible." Sherlock glanced at me from over his shoulder. "You should be glad you went after me, Noah, or it might have been you and not the sergeant."
"Though, I still got shot."
"A technology of that kind would be worth an untold fortune," Sherlock continued. "Imagine being able to control any device simply by sending a command via radio waves. It's the future, Watson, Noah."
God, wait until he learns about planes and cell phones, I silently mused as someone knocked on the door. It was the mover for John and Mary.
"I've loaded the last of your boxes, sir."
"Well…"John murmured with a light hum from Sherlock as well.
"Well…"
Gladstone rushed out then and John went after him as Sherlock addressed Clark.
"Clarkie, case reopened," he smiled, placing his hat on his head as I rolled my eyes and grabbed him a decent coat.
"Oi," I huffed, tossing it to him and giving his tattered coat a glance. "At least change your coat."
He cracked a smirk before gesturing to his face. "Are you gonna…"
"Do I have to?" I huffed. "Everyone else is too daft to pay any attention to my being a woman given how I'm dressed and my hair."
Clark started, looking concerned. "M-Miss?"
I rolled my eyes, patting his chest once before grabbing my cap. "Don't have an aneurysm. Let's go, Sherlock, before anyone else questions it."
"I'm sorry, you're a woman?" Mary asked then, and Sherlock belted out a laugh at my groan from downstairs.
"The game is afoot, Noah! Let's chase it till we tire, eh?"
"Only if you're buying dinner!"
