Alright, here's another one, a bit longer! Hurrah, hurrah!

And hurrah a third time for Ilex-ferox!

January 7th, 2011, Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland

Flabbergasted, Holly stared at the jewels in her hand. 'But ... how?' she managed at last.

'Accidentally, if you must know. It was hidden inside a painting I was stealing.'

Holly lay the opals down with a groan. 'Why am I not surprised?' she asked the ceiling.

'What painting?' Mulch asked, his fingers inching towards the necklace.

'The Stolen Kiss by Erhmann,' Artemis replied, watching as Mulch's index finger brushed the gold chain. A moment later he winced as, quite casually, Holly slammed her palm onto Mulch's unsuspecting digits. She hadn't even bothered looking down.

'Could we see it?' the elf asked, unruffled.

'Er ... yes, yes of course.' Artemis replied, watching her hands warily. 'We might as well go back up to my rooms, before someone sees you two.'

As Holly and Mulch vied for space on his study's sofa, Artemis brought out the painting. Delicately, he spread it out on the low coffee table for the other three to see.

'Wo-ah,' breathed Mulch, 'talk about coincidence.'

'What do you mean?' asked Butler.

'That's Freya,' said a wide-eyed Holly, pointing to the sleeping shepherdess. 'I'd bet the world's last acorn on it.'

'Impossible,' Artemis frowned. 'The model's name was Mary Crawford, it's on record. She and Erhmann were having an affair. When it ended, she stole the painting from his studio and sold it to a private collector.'

'She could have been calling herself the Earl of Rochester for all I care, she was still Freya,' Holly replied, shrugging.

'Are you absolutely positive?' Artemis pressed.

'Positively,' quipped Mulch. 'Holly's right, Artemis, no doubt about it. Frond knows, she's been plastered over enough billboards. You'd have to be blind.'

'Who did you steal this painting from?' Holly asked.

'A bank,' replied Artemis, unable to help himself.

'From a safe-deposit box belonging to Heyer's Antiques and Rarities, a London antique dealership owned by one Zoë Matthews,' Butler elucidated, before Holly could punch his unhelpful charge.

'Zoë Matthews. Do you know anything about her?' Holly tapped her fingers on her lips.

'She's ninety-two, and looks it. Inherited the business from her mother fifty years ago, apparently orchestrated the theft of the Stolen Kiss from a private collection in Tel Aviv, and still works in the company's shop just off the Portobello Road,' Artemis enumerated on his fingers.

'Well, we're just going to have to pay her a visit, then, aren't we? Because if this is her safe-deposit box, how the d'Arvit did a quarter of Brísingamen get into it? And, more importantly, where's the rest of the bloody necklace?' Holly asked no-one in particular.

These were all good questions, thought Artemis. And, for once, he had no idea.

Unnoticed, Mulch shifted uneasily in his seat.

January 3rd, 2011, Operations Booth, Police Plaza, Haven City, The Lower Elements

Root stood behind Foaly, glaring at the screens in front of him.

'Er ... Julius, do you have to hover like that?'

'You sent her to Mulch. The only way we have to contact her is leaving messages in some kind of Neanderthal electronic post box. We have no idea where the two of them are. Does she even have equipment with her? We don't even know if she got to Mulch. Do you know how unreliable Human post is? On top of it all, you did all this without my permission. You should be grateful I'm only hovering,' Root pulled a cigar out of his pocket, biting off the end with eloquent violence. 'And don't call me Julius!'

Foaly sighed, shoulders slumping, resigned to being deaf in at least one ear by the end of the night.

January 7th, 2011, Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland

As Butler made Mulch one last, parting, sandwich before they headed to London, Artemis watched Holly pack up her wing rig. After a moment of silent contemplation, he had to ask.

'Captain?'

'Yes, Artemis?' Holly didn't look up from adjusting her straps.

'I've got a – no, I have two questions. Firstly, ... ah, why do you appear to be wearing your pyjamas? And, secondly, if you were expelled forcibly from Haven, why have you got a wing rig and camfoil?'

Holly shrugged. 'Trouble didn't give me time to change before he took me down to Police Plaza - you have no idea how glad I am I put on sweatpants not boxers - and Foaly kitted me out with wings and a full Recon equipment bag when he stuffed me into that box. Helmets and suits, however, are signed out to officers permanently; they aren't just left lying about. Which is a pain because it means I have to fly lower – easier said than done, with a dwarf swinging from my belt loops.'

'Why do you need to fly lower?'

'Well, wind abrasion and chill factor, for one thing, but also because the suits regulate our oxygen intake and prevent things like altitude sickness. If I were to fly as high as I would normally, without being in my suit, I wouldn't have enough air to breathe and the risk of High Altitude Cerebral Edema would go through the roof.' She smiled self-consciously, 'Listen to me, I sound like a talking data-pad. They drilled this into us every day during flight-training. Even civilians have special gear. You can't buy a pair of wings but you hear that lecture from the sales-clerk.'

'I see.' Another question occurred to him. 'Speaking of breathing, how on earth did you manage to in that box for a week?'

'In great discomfort, that's how,' Holly replied, showing a distinct lack of appreciation at having spent four days as post. She relented, explaining, 'Foaly put me in one of his Fish Bowls.'

'... fish bowls?'

'Right. Sorry, I keep forgetting you're not bang up to date anymore. A Fish Bowl is kind of like a personal bubble. I'm not sure how it works - something to do with anti-gravity and some kind of underwater fungi, I think - but you pop yourself in and you've got oxygen for up to a week straight without replenishing. However, after about three days it gets pretty gross, believe me, there's a definite after taste of fish-innards. Though, to be fair, it did suck in new air every time it got the chance, which is why I didn't smell like something regurgitated by a whale when I arrived at Mulch's.

Other than that, it's pretty darn handy: if it gets crushed, dropped or otherwise abused, it just bounces off the opposing force, keeping the occupant safe. There's even a small waste management system for, er, longer stays. Don't ask me how it works, I specifically told Foaly I didn't want to know. At any rate, Fish Bowls are becoming all the rage for underwater holidays; the boys in Atlantis are up to their eyebrows in accidental sightings by Mud Man scuba divers. You think Recon has it tough with above ground runners, you should see the Retrieval unit for Atlantis. Total nightmare, I tell you.'

Artemis nodded solemnly. 'Sounds dreadful,' he managed, with only the barest hint of a smile.

'All set!' Mulch announced himself, licking mustard from his fingers as he came through the door.

Holly grimaced, 'With the amount of food you've eaten tonight, Mulch, it's a good thing we're going in the jet – I wouldn't have been able to carry you on the wings.'

'Are you calling me fat, Holly? I'm hurt!' Mulch pressed a hand to his heart. 'And after all I've done for you today, too. Huh, just like a woman! Serves me right for opening the door in the middle of my bath. Frond, I should have listened to my mother.'

Over the dwarf's head Artemis and Holly frowned at each other, both mouthing the word 'What?'.

January 8th, 2011, London, England

London was grey and chilly in the early morning light and Holly shivered, despite the fact that she was vibrating too fast to be seen – and nestled inside a toasty-warm back seat. Silently, she sat between Butler and Artemis in the taxi from London City Airport to Claridge's, watching the grimy cityscape pass by. At least, she thought, I'm not in the boot, unlike Mulch.

Mulch had not been impressed when, ten minutes from landing, Artemis had informed him that he would be smuggled into their hotel in the luggage. It had taken them the remaining flight time to squash the protesting dwarf – and all his hair – into the suitcase.

As they passed the doorman (who, luckily, bid them "Welcome to Claridge's", which was good enough for Frond's enchantment), Holly caught her breath. The front hall was huge. Despite being shielded, she tiptoed behind Artemis and Butler, certain that her no-scuff LEP boots were echoing off the shiny checkerboard floor. Glancing at her companions, she was peeved to see they didn't even look twice at their surroundings.

In the lift, Artemis and Butler stood side by side, hands clasped lightly in front of them, faces impassive, acting for all the world as though their fellow passengers were not giving Artemis' luggage looks of horror.

'Did you hear that?' a child whispered to her grandmother. 'It groaned!'

'Shh!' The older woman hushed the girl, not wanting to get involved with groaning luggage.

It didn't help that coming from thin air was the unmistakable sound of snickering.

'So glad to see that the two of you can act your age,' Artemis snapped at Holly and the newly-liberated Mulch. 'Snickering and groaning! As though this were some amateur production of A Christmas Carol. For goodness sake!'

Not that either Holly or Mulch looked even vaguely apologetic. Holly went so far as to completely ignore him: exploring the suite while he spoke and exclaiming things, 'Ooh, bubble bath!' throughout his diatribe.

Artemis pinched the bridge of his nose.

'Are you done, Artemis?' Holly stuck her head around the bathroom door, 'Because I've been stuck in a box for half a week and would really like to have a shower.'

'Oh no, feel free,' Artemis waved a hand at her, 'don't hold back on my account. Why should what I have to say be of any importance whatsoever?'

'Well,' shrugged Holly, grinning, 'I wouldn't want to be rude.'

Artemis threw her a disgusted look, which became even more disgusted when she just laughed at him.

'Before you get in the tub,' Butler interjected, 'I brought these for you. Thought maybe you wouldn't want to spend another week in those clothes.' He held out a neatly folded shirt and trousers.

'Butler, now, when he speaks, he really says something worth listening to,' Holly winked at Artemis.

'What did I tell you?' Mulch threw up his hands, 'Women! Nothing but ingratitude, Artemis my boy, take it from me.'

'Mulch, having a mother does not make you an expert on the female gender,' Holly pointed out scathingly, as she stepped forward to take the clothes from Butler. 'Thanks, Butler. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.'

Artemis turned to Mulch. 'You open your house to her. I endeavour to clear her name - at great personal expense. But she thanks him for a few clothes?'

Butler shrugs, 'What can I say? I've always had a way with the ladies.'

Snorting with laughter, Holly retreated to the bathroom.

The clothes fitted a little oddly, they seemed to be leftover from Artemis' childhood. She tucked the tails of her shirt into the waistband of the grey flannel trousers, thinking that these were probably the best-made clothes she'd ever worn. Poor things probably aren't used to such rough treatment, she thought, as she stuffed her feet back into her boots, wrinkling the trousers.

Mulch raised his bushy eyebrows when she emerged. 'Well, that's a little creepy,' he said, giving her outfit a once over. 'What'll it be next? You two gonna start swapping eyeballs?'

Holly swatted at him playfully before striking a pose, 'How do I look?'

'Like you're going to need a belt.'

'Gee, thanks, Mulch.'

'I try.'

'So,' the elf pulled herself up onto the desk, 'what's the plan, Artemis?'

'I'm sure I don't know. I wouldn't want to bore you with my excessive pontificating.'

Holly sighed. 'I'm very, very sorry that I didn't listen when you were speaking. You're a wonderful, brilliant, little child genius. My favourite ever, in fact. Now, what's the plan?'

'Could that be because I'm the only child genius you know?'

'That's a distinct possibility,' Holly admitted. 'Though even if I did know others, I'm sure you'd still be my favourite. No one else twists the truth quite like you do, Artemis. It's a gift.'

'You're too kind.'

'Probably,' Holly agreed.

'If you two are quite finished?' Butler interrupted the banter, wanting to get in a quick nap before they had to leave again.

Artemis thought briefly that he and Holly Short would probably never be finished insulting each other, but didn't mention it out loud. Instead, he said, 'The shops won't be open for a few hours yet, I advise that we all take advantage of this and sleep while we can. After breakfast, Butler and I will go down to Heyer's, ostensibly searching for a gift for my mother. Holly, while we are in the shop go round the back, if you can, and have a look around. I doubt we'll be able to get you permission to enter, but you may see something of interest through the upper windows. Mulch, I'm afraid you'll be on standby. If we discover something that needs thieving, you can go in after dark. This is reconnaissance only.'

'How fitting,' Holly said, as Mulch executed a sloppy LEP salute.

'Well,' Butler clapped his hands together, 'you heard the man: I want everyone lying down with their eyes closed, ASAP. I'm too old for these late nights.'

Grumbling, the fairies went off to claim various pieces of furniture. Momentarily, Mulch considered fighting Holly for the spare bed, but quickly decided the couch wouldn't be so bad.

January 8th, 2011, Claridge's Hotel, London, England

Luckily, midday in London was just as grey and dismal as early morning. Even so, Holly flinched as she stepped out onto the pavement. She had decided to conserve her magic (she had a feeling she would be needing it later on), and was walking in plain sight with Artemis and Butler. Her wings were stashed in her rucksack, whose strap kept slipping on the slick material of her jacket. Irritably, she hiked it back up her shoulder, stifling a yawn.

'My thoughts exactly,' Butler told her, as she raised a hand to cover her mouth.

Artemis tsked as he hailed a taxi. 'You two are supposed to be professionals.'

'My contract has a 'pre-caffeine' clause,' Holly informed him loftily. 'I only need to be professional after a couple of dozen cups of sim-coffee. Before that, I can't be held responsible for my actions.'

'How useful,' Artemis agreed, laughing as he climbed into the taxi.

The Portobello Road was crowded despite the dreary weather. Butler developed a twitch in his left eyelid after a hundred metres from trying to keep his eye on Artemis, Holly, and all the tourists. Artemis wasn't helping matters by walking around, his nose firmly an A-Z, not looking where he was going. It was with immense relief that Butler, at last, steered them around a corner and into a quieter cul-de-sac.

'It's that one there, on the left,' Artemis finally extricated himself from his map of London and waved a hand towards one of the nondescript little pawn shops.

'I'll see you guys in a bit, then?' Holly tilted her head back, clearly charting her route up the face of the building.

'Yes.' Artemis waited a beat, then said, 'You know, there's an alley leading into the back courtyard just past the electronics shop.' He pointed to a storefront further down the street whose front window boasted an enormous mechanical dinosaur.

'I knew that,' Holly lied, walking away with her nose in the air.

'Of course you did,' Artemis smiled to himself.

Inside the shop things were piled higgledy-piggledy: crockery stacked inside old enamelled pots, balancing on teak cabinets and ratty divans. Before he was three feet from the door, Artemis had counted two fake Chippendales and a clever copy of a Louis XIV writing table; he had to admit, though, that the scroll-work was quite ingenious.

'Hello?' Butler called into the cluttered gloom. 'Anyone here?'

Silence was their only answer so, with a shrug and an anticipatory smile, the two made their way towards the rear of the shop.

Meanwhile, Holly had skirted the electronics shop, and, after a difficult bit of balancing, had managed to climb up a skip and onto the fire escape. Following the rusty ladder up to the narrow balcony, Holly made her way along the back of the shops counting doors until she reached Heyer's. The wooden door was locked but the window next to it was ajar. Out of a morbid sense of curiosity, Holly lifted the pane and slid into the darkened room. Even before her feet touched the dusty floor she was expecting nausea and retching.

She landed without difficulty, however, and, straightening up, discovered she felt perfectly fine. Frowning at this unexpected turn of events, she eyed the room with deep misgiving, glowering at each piece of furniture in turn as though expecting it to come to life and bludgeon her to death; filing cabinets, desk, chair, open skylight - that got a particularly intense glare - bookshelf, hat-stand, all perfectly motionless and ordinary. Holly pursed her lips. Something wasn't right. Unable to put her finger or, more importantly, her gun on the problem, Holly shrugged, heading to the desk and the papers that littered its top. But even as she sifted through bank statements and receipts her muscles quivered, ready to run, and her ears strained, listening for the smallest sound.

Suddenly, in the hall, she heard the soft thump of approaching footsteps. Holly froze, calculating. The footsteps got louder. Two sets. Probably men. Without another thought, Holly hopped onto the desk, standing on the heavy, decade-old IBM monitor to reach up and haul herself out through the skylight.

Flattening herself onto the roof, she cocked her head to hear the voices the footsteps had been carrying towards her. She had been right: men. The door opened below her and she heard quite clearly:

' – a bit odd that no one is here. I was expecting a cashier at least.'

With a self-disgusted sigh, Holly blew her fringe out of her eyes, swinging herself back through the skylight to land lightly on the floor in front of a very surprised Artemis and Butler.

'You're inside,' Artemis said.

'Thinking of getting your mother a bit of filing for a gift?' Holly countered.

'There was no one downstairs.' Artemis shrugged, unrepentant.

'The window was open so I tried it, couldn't resist giving it a go, and nothing happened,' Holly's turn to shrug, just as unremorseful. 'No vomiting, no nothing.'

'Really?' Artemis frowned. 'How interesting. However, as no one seems to be–'

'Scratch that, Artemis, someone is coming.' Butler stood with his ear to the door, Sig Sauer at the ready. 'We need to hide.'

Holly was already on the desk again. 'Come on, Mud Boy, up here with me. Butler, go through the back door. It's locked, but it's just a deadbolt, they shouldn't notice.' Without a backward glance, the elf clambered back through the skylight.

Artemis hesitated, eyeing the IBM with misgivings. Crossing the floor in two strides, Butler picked up his charge and shoved him bodily through the hole. Sniggering, Holly grabbed Artemis' shirt, yanking him up with her as he scrabbled at the tiles. Below them, Butler passed through the back door, silent as a ghost.

Just as Artemis' left loafer disappeared from sight, the door opened once more, letting in two female voices.

'- was an idiot to even think you could pull something like this off. Whatever on earth possessed you to frame that crazy dyke is beyond me! Now we'll have Julius on our backs on top of everything else. Everybody knows he's got a thing for her. This is a complete disaster.'

There was a thump as someone flung themselves into a chair.

'Holly isn't a lesbian, Auntie.'

A pause. Then, in an aggrieved tone, the first voice said, 'Once again, Lili, you are completely missing the point.'

'Well, I just wanted to–'

'I don't care what you want. You stole a fake! You lost Brísingamen to those nasty little dwarves! You don't get to want.'

'Well, I don't see why you're so angry about Holly, you're the one who told me to do it.'

'I told you to – when under the earth did I ask you to frame that mud-loving lunatic?'

Artemis watched Holly's jaw clench and unclench. He could only assume that "mud-loving" was a particularly offensive remark. He didn't have to think very hard to figure out what, or perhaps whom, it could refer to.

'You said to make it look-'

'I said to make it look like it wasn't me, as I am a prime candidate for stealing it. I didn't mean frame your co-worker. Please, Lili, enlighten me: what were you thinking? Or were you simply not?'

'I was thinking. I had to time it with her workouts, didn't I? There's a promotion coming up, at work, and rumour has it that it's going to be one of us. The LEP is trying to give its image a facelift.'

'And you thought that framing Holly Short would get you the job?' The voice was acerbic, 'Yes, Lili, a foolproof plan, by all means. Frond, what has happened to this family?'

'Auntie, that's hardly-'

'Shush, girl, we've more important things to talk about than your sad attempts at office politics. Such as: if you saw the dwarves, why didn't you think to stop them?'

'Well, I didn't know they had stolen, did I? After all, I went in, put down the fake evidence got the necklace and got out. It wasn't until we looked at it together that I realised it was a face. Besides, if I'd just broken into the museum, I'm not exactly in a position to go up to someone else wandering around after hours and ask them what they're doing there. And anyway ... well ...' There was a shuffling sound, presumably Lili scuffing the floor with her shoes. 'Dvalina and I ... she's ...'

'Oh Frond, you're not friends with those four are you? Do you know what their fathers did to me?'

'They didn't do anything to you, Auntie, you were paying them for their work. Don't act so hard done by. You could have said no.'

'"Could have said no"? Child, did you not see Brísingamen? How could I say no to that? And those filthy little dwarves knew I couldn't. It served Alfrigg right, dying of syphilis like that. Don't let me ever hear you refer to those dwarves, or their offspring, favourably in my presence again, do you understand? I will not tolerate a friendship between you and one of them.'

'Well,' Lili's voice was snippy, 'it's just as well that I'm not then. Dvalina's not just my friend, Auntie Freya. Or, at least, she wasn't. She dumped me for some sprite from Atlantis.'

Silence. An exaggerated gagging sound.

'Lili. Lili, why do you say things like that? Has that ghastly police camp affected your mind? I'm phoning your father, young lady, the instant we get back to Haven. Clearly you are delirious from overwork. Perhaps spending so much time in the company of steroid-munching buffoons has simply affected your perception of beauty and desire. Yes, that must be it. You've obviously forgotten what normal fairies look like and think that Dvalina is simply the best there is. I will admit that compared to your last one, what was his name ... Kurb ... Crumpet ...?'

'Kelp?'

'That's it. Compared to Kelp, Dvalina might be considered quite the beauty queen but, trust me, there's so much more out there.'

'Auntie, I don't want–'

'What did I tell you about wanting? Now be a good girl and shut up. The dwarves have split up the necklace – which just goes to show how unstable they are – and one of the pieces was sold to some uppity aristocrat, or something, up in Scotland. Dorchester? Damson? Doyle! Lady Doyle. Apparently, she's having a party in her country house - some castle or other, I read about it in that yummy home decorating magazine I get, you know, Better Gnomes and Gardens or whatever. Anyway, the tart's got my necklace on display in her library! As though it were some cheap Mud Man trinket! However, you, my dear, are going to go up there and get it for me. With that and the piece Loki got for me, I'll be halfway there. Of course, then I'll have to get the blasted thing repaired, and goodness knows that won't come cheap, but it'll be worth it.'

'Wait, why would they break apart the necklace?'

'I'm sure I've no idea what goes on in their beastly little minds. Loki simply told me they had when he gave me the piece he had managed to get his hands on, the darling sprite.'

'I was wondering why he was coming around so often these days. How many nights did you promise him for Brísingamen?' Lili's voice was so dry it could have evaporated a small ocean. 'Not to mention, he's a pixie, not a sprite.'

'Don't take that tone with me! I'm simply enjoying his company. And sprite, pixie, what's the difference, really?'

Lili muttered something incomprehensible and most likely crude.

'What did you say?'

'I said I thought you'd mind,' Lili covered quickly.

'Mind what?'

'Loki's company. You've never liked him very much.'

'Nonsense. I've always adored Loki. Such charm.'

'Whatever you say, Auntie,' Lili agreed, although her tone implied the exact opposite. 'Where's the piece you have now?'

'In a human safe-deposit box in Germany. No dwarf would think of breaking into some silly human bank.'

'True. Good idea.'

'Of course it is. Now, are you ready? There's a train leaving from King's Cross at 19h00; and I want you to be on it.'

'Well, I've got to pack.'

'No, you haven't, I've already had a bag prepared for you. It's downstairs in the hall. Shall we? You can take a nap after I've gone over the blueprints with you.'

'Yes, Auntie, of course,' Lili sighed.