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Chapter Twelve: Fast Trains and Felines

Daria had no intention of staying in London while the Hawks were working so closely with Moriarty. Where they went, she went, so she would follow Holmes and Watson. In the hallway outside of Watson's office, she shifted into the shape of the tabby cat and sat unobtrusively outside the door, listening as they laid out their plans. Holmes instructed his friend to employ a series of elaborate ruses before arriving at the Victoria Station to take a nine-thirty train. Daria listened, then vowed to conceal herself- somehow- in the second carriage from the front.

She told her staff that she had to take an unexpected trip the next day. After packing her gear- the essentials, along with all of her advanced equipment- into a pair of bags, she left for Victoria Station the next morning. Being slightly paranoid, she made sure to pay for the ticket in cash, and under an assumed name. However, she didn't intend on sitting in the seat she'd paid for.

The Tau'ka waited until the corridor was clear of people for a moment before once again adopting the shape of the tabby cat and slipping into the second carriage right behind Watson's feet. While the doctor and his assigned travel companion- a decrepit-looking old priest- weren't looking, she concealed herself underneath the seat and settled herself to await Holmes's arrival.

With a series of loud noises, porters walked up and down the length of the train, slamming the doors shut. The whistle had been blown and the train begun to move before either man spoke. To her surprise-

"My dear Watson," said a voice that she recognized, "you have not even condescended to say good morning to me."

From her position beneath the seat, Daria could just see the way the old priest shifted his posture and expression, revealing- for just a moment- the features of Sherlock Holmes. A split second later, Holmes was gone, replaced once again by the priest.

"Good heavens!" Watson cried in astonishment, "How you startled me!"

She was thoroughly impressed. Once again, Holmes showed why he was the best in his field.

"Every precaution is still necessary," the detective whispered. "I have reason to think that they are hot upon our trail. Ah, there is Moriarty himself!"

She couldn't see where he indicated, but Daria had to assume that the mastermind had been spotted as he approached the departing train too late to catch his elusive and slippery adversary.

Holmes smiled. "With all our precautions, you see that we have cut it rather fine," he said, laughing, as he rose and removed the black cassock and hat which had formed his costume. Kneeling, he went to tuck his bundle into a handbag that had been stashed below Watson's seat. He paused upon seeing Daria.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said.

"Holmes?" Watson inquired. "What is it?"

Crap! Daria thought.

"Mrow?" she said.

"A cat," Holmes said. "It somehow managed to stow itself away beneath your seat. How very curious."

Watson leaned over to look as well, eyes widened in surprise. "A cat?"

Daria flattened herself against the wall of the carriage, ears flattened to her skull. She glared at the two men and reached out to brush their minds, projecting an idea without using words.

You do not want to touch the pretty kitty.

It wasn't like the infamous Jedi Mind Trick that Vader was known to use on occasion, per se. Holmes and Watson were not about to go blank-faced and repeat 'I do not want to touch the pretty kitty' in dead monotones. It was more of a subliminal suggestion. She just hoped it would work. Subliminal messages were not her strong suit.

Holmes frowned, his dark brows knitting together. "She isn't doing any harm down there, Watson. Let her be."

Watson straightened in his seat. "'She', Holmes?"

"A creature of that grace must belong to the fair sex, my friend." He stood and sat back in his own seat on the other side of the carriage. "Have you seen the morning paper?"

"No."

"They set fire to our rooms in Baker Street last night. No great harm was done."

"Holmes, this is intolerable!" Watson exclaimed. Daria privately agreed, but thought she recognized the touch of the Black Hawks in the arson- the older twin, Koor, had a little bit of pyrokinesis, the ability to create fire, although it was secondary to his power of willful invisibility. The other twin, K'Wah, was a shapeshifter like Daria herself, and both of the twins were Communications-Telepaths as well.

Holmes went on to say that Moriarty must have lost track of him when he had foiled the professor's assassination attempts the night before and asked Watson if he was certain that he had not made any slip in coming. Watson argued that his arrival had been to the letter of his friend's instructions. As the train moved on, they discussed further plans and eventually decided to change their itinerary and make their way into Switzerland at a leisurely pace

The two men, discreetly followed by the still cat-shaped Daria, got off the train at Canterbury station. Three days of travel eventually brought the three of them to Strasbourg. There, Holmes telegraphed the London police. Their reply prompted a bitter curse from him as he threw the paper onto the grate.

"I might have known it," he groaned. "He has escaped!"

"Moriarty?"

No, Daria thought sarcastically. The dancing bear at the zoo. She twitched her tail as she watched the telegram burst into flame. Holmes and Watson had become resigned to their extra traveling companion when they found her sequestered under Holmes's seat on the train from Canterbury to Brussels. When the two men had made that discovery, they'd looked from her to each other in amazement.

"I think she likes you, Holmes," Watson had said, trying to hold back a laugh. Daria had simply purred entreatingly up at them, although she had refused to come out from under the chair. Holmes himself had made no comment, but had taken to laying out his coat in a small bundle for use as a cat bed whenever they stopped for the night.

Now the detective groaned again. "Yes, Moriarty," he said. "He has given them the slip. They have secured the whole gang with the exception of him- and the Hawks." With those last words, he glanced directly at Daria. She blinked in surprise, then did what any cat would do.

She licked her forepaw and washed her face. All the while, she wondered again just what Sherlock Holmes really knew.