I got home before Shea, the good thing about working at a café is that I got more regular hours, and a pre-determined schedule, which meant, I knew when I was getting home. I got home at about four, as its rare that people go to a café after lunch or tea-time. I had finished unpacking all the boxes, and set everything up nicely, arranging it strategically. After, I figured that Shea would like a meal when she got home, I began to pull out things and cook. Shea had never learned to cook, both horrible at it and never wanting to learn caused an utter lack of it. I, on the other hand, found a knack for it. Besides, I wanted to surprise her. Shea came home about an hour and a half later. She was grinning as she came in the door. She ran around the hall into the main room, and saw me in the kitchen, she skipped in and hopped on a stool, unable to contain her exuberance. I laughed slightly and took off my oven mitts, straightening my apron. I sat down on a stool opposite her and put my elbows on the table.

"What is it?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"Well..." She said slyly. "I solved a case! I found the murderer and everything! Oh it was brilliant-" she stopped and gave me a look "literally." She then laughed at her self. I smiled. It was good seeing her so happy with herself. It seemed as if she were a natural here, happier here than back home, which made sense of course, but she belonged, I'm not sure I did. I laughed with her, glad.

"Aren't we supposed to keep a low cover?" I said smirking. "You know- keep low, look normal, act natural." She groaned.

"Ugh! BOOOriiiiing!" She sang, tittering. "This is too much fun!" I envied her absolute joy. It seemed as if she'd forgotten completely why we were there.

"Do remember..." I started hesitantly, not wanting to ruin her moment. "We are here for a reason, and not to solve crime."

"I know, I know..." She said slowly, but still smiled, "but we can still have fun while we do it..." She laughed slightly. "How's your day been?" She asked.

I thought. It had been good, I guess, I had gone to work at the café next door, which turned out to be a fun little place, but not exactly a café. It was a book lover's dream. A very small library/bookstore fusion, with a small café up front. It smelled like a wonder, coffee, books, chocolate, caramel, so forth. It wasn't very large, or well known, but the people there were kind, would get lost in the books forever, and then emerge for some cocoa or what not. I have to say, I enjoyed it very much. Shea wasn't as much of an introvert as me though, and loved an audience, I'm not entirely sure how much she would enjoy it there, She does love reading books, but not when there are other opportunities. I sighed.

"It was wonderful..." I smiled lightly. The timer rang, snapping my slight stupor. I jumped up and pulled on the oven mits. I pulled open the oven and was greeted with a wonderful plume of warm steam and a mouth watering smell, what can I say, I'm a natural. Shea looked over instantly

"Is that...?" She asked looking very excited.

"Indeed it is" I grinned. "Honey garlic roast chicken and New York salt potatoes." I said grinning. I put a hot pad on the table and put the two dishes down. "Help me set the table." I said, pulling off the mitts and apron. Shea stood, and pulled dishes from the cupboard. I pulled out utensils and napkins, setting them on the table, soon we were ready. The meal went by fast, Shea talked through most of it, telling me more about her day. I was happy. I wanted it to stay like this forever. Soon we were done and going to bed. Finally in my room, I looked around. The box I had chosen had been grey, and larger than other boxes i'd seen before, in fact most of our boxes were, presumably to hold better quality furniture. And indeed it was good quality. When unpacked my room held a bed, desk, stool, wardrobe, three bookcases and a storage compartment. It was all in gray tones, with a couple colored pillows, a bit my style. The bed, which I now sat on, was low to the ground, but sturdy and come with a sort of foldable mattress. I walked over to the desk, where my laptop was, and sat down. I decided to look more into the reason we had been sent here. Sherlock Holmes. I knew that my father and him had been a sort of arch enemies, but not much more, father hardly talked about him. I checked out both his and John's blogs, reading them through. I searched further for newspaper articles and other means of information about him. I figured even though Shea wasn't super intent on this mission, I was going to check it out. I looked through the websites late into the night, reading through all the writings of his crime solving, I have to say, I was impressed. I was jealous, he was a good man, even if he sometimes pretended he wasn't while I was the opposite. I tried, but my father's reputation left me desolate. This new opportunity was golden. A place to be me, known for me, not my father. To be my own person.

I eventually fell to sleep moments later, flopping onto the bed.

It was strange. Soft, foggy. I felt like I was floating through smoke. It was comfortable, but quickly became stale. I looked around, hoping for something recognizable. With that, the air cleared and I was set down. I looked down. I was standing on an old cobblestone road. I then looked at myself, surprised, but yet, somewhat expecting. I was wearing a victorian dress, Early style. It had a flowing skirt and a close-fitting bodice. I had a square neck, but low, with long sleeves. It was a dark violet indigo color, with dark silvery accents. It had lace trim that made its way around the neck, ends of the sleeves and bottom of the skirt. My dark hair was pinned back from my face, and up away from my neck. I lifted my hands, bewildered at the strange clothing, they were dressed in white gloves. Black string hung off the back of the hands, seemingly cut off, several centimetres down. I put my arms down, and behind me, brushing against a small pouch hanging on my skirt, pulling it forward, I saw the white silver handles of clean sewing scissors coming out of the top of the small drawstring bag.

Looking up, I saw old styled lamps lined the edges of the street, reflecting light into the puddles covering the street. I walked up onto the sidewalk, lifting my dress. The way was lined with old looming buildings, dark and dank, the air was humid, but cold. I wrapped my arms around me. I walked forward, not entirely knowing what to do. I looked around in awe at the dark, but sure, beauty of the landscape. It came across as if like an old mystery/detective movie. I loved the eerie winds and the slow dripping of water, The fog in the distance, I felt exhilarated. A few people roamed the street, couples walking along, a few horse drawn carriages leisurely rolling past. A figure came racing down the street, it was a young woman, I felt like I recognized her, but couldn't tell from the distance. She ran up closer to me, before stopping right in front of me. It was Shea! She was also dressed in victorian clothing, but hers being black and a gray blue. She was breathing heavily and grinned at me, leaning against a building. It seemed out of place in the landscape. She stood up and pulled me along, racing behind her. She pulled me into an alleyway. That was when I first noticed she had similar strings trailing off her own gloves, but this time rising up into the sky, fading into the fog. My eyes followed the string up, expecting to see the source, but it was covered by the clouds, blocking me from view. I looked down to Shea, she opened her mouth, beginning to talk.

"He wants to speak to you, he feels as if you doubt him, you know what he can do..." She started. Instantly I knew of who she spoke of. "Moriarty wishes to see you, to redevote you." She said softly, but assuredly. I looked down at the cut strings off my gloves, wondering.

"Of course." I replied, submissive. I regretted saying it, but I of all people knew what he was capable of.

"We meet in the attic of the old estate on the brink of the city. Use the magpie cypher at the door." I nodded slightly, knowing of the things she spoke of. Shea ran off as quickly as she came, vanishing back into the fog. I stared after her, Following slowly out into the street. I waved my hand, calling a carriage down.

"Thank you..." I mumbled, stepping into the carriage. I told him the street and we were on our way.

I arrived and stepped out of the carriage, my skirt pulling behind me. I looked down at my hands. I held a small pin, a magpie, in my hand. I hadn't worn it for months. I walked to the front of the building. The door opened and an old man stood in it. I showed him the pin.

"A strange pin." He said, seriously.

"Thank you, I received it from a fox thief." I replied gravely. He motioned me in and up a ladder, into the attic. I climbed up into it, making my way into the room. It was taller than I had remembered, with a full sized dinner table in the center. It was dark wooded and long, hard chairs against the sides. The room was cold, and the head chair faced away from me.

"Hello my dearest Ebony. How was your travel?" The man asked. He turned around slowly, smiling. I looked down slightly, not wanting to make eye contact.

"It was... nice." I said slowly. He nodded.

"I am so glad Shea could have invited you, Its been so long since you've visited." he looked off to the side, seemingly gesturing to someone. Shea stepped out from behind the curtains, smiling at him, She sat down in the chair next to him, sitting close. "Shea of course, comes at my every word. I meant to ask you dear, Why do you doubt?" His voice hardened instantly, sharper than ice.

"I... I didn't doubt." I lied. "I just... wondered, thought."

"Oh you know thats not wise, to think. That's why you have me!" He spread his arms wide. I frowned to myself.

"Yes..." I said softly. "I suppose." He looked at me harshly.

"You suppose?" He asked.

"Yes, I-" He reached down onto the table and picked up a fruit, polishing it with his glove. He laughed and rolled it down the table to me. I picked it up. An apple. A positively ruby red apple. I looked to the fox thief as he laughed.

"You owe ME!"

I shivered as I walked back out of the house. I was commanded to stay, but I couldn't bear being in there for any longer. The man scared me and I was worried for Shea, she didn't know what she was getting herself into. I pulled the apple out of my bag. It was almost too perfect, too red. Often like what the man seemed to be. Too much. A king. Suddenly angry, I threw the apple, hurling it as far as I could, it tumbled against the muddy road. I sank down. I couldn't do this. I didn't want to be connected to this man, related, but I couldn't help it. I was stuck. I couldn't get away. He was my father, what do you do if your parent, your guardian is knowledgeably wrong? I sank to the ground, not caring if my skirt got dirty, sobbing lightly.

I couldn't stay. I stood and walked away from that house. I walked along the cobblestone, buildings and houses slowly becoming more common. I was lead up the path, staring up into the clouds. I ran into someone.

"Oh! Im so sorry!" I picked up my skirts, before straightening. The man in front of me was tall, I looked up to reach his face, and it was the face of the very man, Sherlock Holmes! He had bended over to pick something up. An apple! The very same. The apple, the phrase that had linked these two men. Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty. He wore a dark gray suit, different from the harsh black that my father wore. I looked up at him, wondering if he could possibly be as bad as Moriarty stated him as. I felt guilty, rooting for my fathers enemy, doubting, racing from my own. Sherlock looked to me.

"You cut yourself off." He said, lifting one of the strings attached to my glove. I noticed that he himself wasn't wearing gloves, In fact he was the only person I had seen without them. I looked up at him in slight confusion. "You cut yourself from him, The puppet cut herself loose." He chuckled lightly and lifted the leather bag with the scissors. "a clean cut." I inhaled sharply.

"A puppet? Did you say a puppet?!" I asked suddenly. A puppet. Without another word to the man, I raced off, images flashing through my mind. The strings trailing off my gloves, Shea's trailing into the sky. 'a puppet-cut off from him.' Him could only mean... I forced myself faster and farther till I reached the house. I pushed past the old man, jumping up the ladder into the room. What I saw shocked me, but I could see clearly. Shea lay on the floor. When she saw me she moaned lightly. She tried to reach a hand out to me, but it was pulled behind her.

"No, don't come here!" She screamed suddenly. "run, Run!" She pulled on her hands and I saw that they were pulled back by the strings. She screamed to herself. My sister. I couldn't let her... I fell forward suddenly at her side.

"Calm, calm!" I said, breathing hard, I pulled my bag forward, working the knot undone. Memories flashed through my mind, images of doing the same thing, my fingers working, remembering doing the same things, months before., slowly, working at the strings when I had time, not all at once like this. It was dangerous, breaking off, once cut, you don't know anymore. I didn't know what Shea would feel, all of a sudden, broken off. I pulled out the white silver scissors, opening them with a shiver. I reached over to a string, but before I could work at it, it was yanked out of my hands. Shea yelled. the strings pulled her back quickly, she tugged to no avail. I clambered forward, to catch up. She screamed, zooming forward. I looked up horrified. She was racing towards the wall, seemingly to run into it, before my eyes, the wall shimmered, vanishing. She flew off the edge.

I yelled. Anger, fright, disbelief. I heard a shriek. I quickly crawled to the edge of the gap, looking over the edge, and then up. I could hear a voice in my mind,

"You really think I would let her fall?" a booming voice. "such a valuable piece, in my game. You should know of all, I don't get rid of you until I don't need you any longer.. besides, letting her fall, would be... Cliche. You know who I am." I looked up in horror, knowing that voice exactly. I saw his face. My father. The thief king, fox, magpie, he had many names. Moriarty.

"And I still need you." He said. He cracked, a harsh laughter, like lightning, rang through the air. I saw Shea jerk forward, hanging by her arms. "It's a pity, I'll have to tie you up tighter this time, no chance of you getting away this time."

Thick ropes came through the air, on either side of Shea, racing through the sky. They wrapped around me tight, almost so I couldn't breathe, like snakes, writhing angry snakes, but that was what he was. A snake. The ropes pulled me forward, I stepping on my tiptoes to remain on the edge of the building. I looked up at his face one last time.

"You are MINE. You will NOT escape again, and if you do so..." He giggled maniacally and yanked his hands backward. I could feel my feet slowly tip off the edge, before I fell. I could see clouds rushing away, the face of Moriarty burned into my eyes, his laugh, still piercing my ears. I shrieked as the air whipped all around me, cutting into my flesh. I screamed.

I was still screaming. I could not stop. I was petrified. I could not move. _

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