The first thing Sherlock did upon getting home was have John email the photograph to him. He used this to print out the image once as a whole and then blown up into smaller sections and stuck them to the mirror, too. Once they were all up the detective grabbed a marker and, using a printout chart of the symbols and their numerical values, labeled each portion that was on the wall. When he had finished, Sherlock capped the pen and tossed it aside, stepping back to admire his work. John had pulled up a seat at the dining table with his back to Sherlock and it wasn't long before he started dozing off again. Meanwhile, Scottie and Emily were occupying the kitchen.
"Ugh, I'm starving!" whined Scottie. He started poking through the fridge and various cupboards, each time shutting them again in disappointment. "I dunno how Sherlock manages to restrain himself on cases like these," he went on. "I don't even like eating that much, but like, it's not something I can exactly ignore all day either. Do you think we've reached our takeout budget for the week? I should've picked up something more substantial while we were in Chinatown…"
"Oh, so now we're back on speaking terms?" Emily replied coldly. She set down her plastic bag and took a styrofoam box out from it. "It's so hard to tell with all your moodswings."
Scottie threw a look at her from over his shoulder. "I'm doing my best to tolerate your insufferable presence. Gimme a break." He then saw what she was doing and spun around to face her, now sitting on the counter next to the sink. "Hold up, where'd you get that? Is that what John ordered?"
Emily didn't answer right away. Instead she took her time to dump the Chinese food onto a glass plate and stick it in the microwave for reheating. "Waste not want not."
"You're despicable."
"I also have dinner. And you don't."
Scottie grumbled something pissy under his breath and went back into the living room to rejoin Sherlock and John. He told his predicament to John, who handed him some cash to run down to the store on the same block and pick them each up a thing of ramen noodles. Scottie did so and ate his dinner with John while they watched Sherlock fuss around with the code some more. Once he and Emily had both finished, Sherlock and John still seemed to be showing no signs of slowing down. But it was getting late, so once Emily confirmed to herself that they wouldn't be running out again, she went downstairs to get ready for bed. Wanting to avoid another fight, Scottie waited around with the two men for another hour or so and then took his leave only after making sure that Emily was already asleep.
The boy didn't sleep so well that night. When he woke up the following morning Emily was still out, and so he changed quietly and found Sherlock and John upstairs, practically unmoved.
"Of course," Sherlock let out, as if he'd just had an epiphany. He gave Scottie a triumphant smile as the boy entered the flat. "Of course! He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back." Sherlock stepped closer to the fireplace and ran his fingers along the symbols. "Somewhere here in the code." The detective paused briefly and then ripped three of the pictures from the wall and took them towards the door. "We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao."
"Oh good," John murmured, looking somewhere in between awake and asleep at the dining room table. With a yawn the man stood up and trailed Sherlock out of the room, patting Scottie on the shoulder on his way past. "Where's Emily?"
"Still sleeping."
"Mm. Lucky her. You coming, then?"
Scottie followed John down the stairs. "Where to?"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
"Whelp. In that case, I think I do."
"Not so fast!" a girl's voice called out. Suddenly Emily was out the door to 221C and quickly shoving on a second boot with her hoodie around her neck but not pulled all the way down.
"Dammit," Scottie grumbled.
The four of them were outside shortly and went back to the museum to meet with Andy once again.
"Two men who travelled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals," Sherlock told the worried employee.
"Soo Lin Yao's in danger," confirmed John. "Now that cipher - it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well."
Andy shook head helplessly. "Look, I've tried everywhere: um, friends, colleagues. I-I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away."
Sherlock turned his head away and noticed a set of teapots sitting in a display case.
"What are you looking at?" asked John.
The detective pointed. "Tell me more about those teapots."
"Th-The pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If… If they dry out, then the clay starts to crumble. Apparently you have to just keep making tea in them."
"Another one of them's shining since yesterday," Scottie commented. Sherlock came closer to the display case and bent over to get a better look.
The ensemble spent the entirety of the day within the walls of the National Antiquities Museum. A little less than an hour before the museum closed at five, each hid in a restroom stall until just after sunset, when they were absolutely sure that all guests and museum employees had locked up and cleared out.
Since Emily was the only one in the women's bathroom, she crept out after receiving a knock from outside. The girl stopped for a moment in the mirror to fix her hair before she pushed open the door and glanced down the hallway cautiously. She didn't see any of the boys. Taking a cautious step out, she hesitated before pushing on the men's restroom door.
"Sherlock?" she called through the crack in a whisper. "John? ...Scottie?"
"Over here, genius," Scottie's voice said from a little ways behind her. Emily stepped out a bit to see him waiting for her just around a corner.
Emily let out a breath of relief. The idea of an abandoned museum creeped her out in general, but it being night-time when she was in there was what truly put her on edge, and as much as she still wasn't on good terms with Scottie, she was grateful to not be alone in there.
"Before you say anything stupid, it was John who made me wait here for you," the boy muttered.
"Then I'll be sure to give him my thanks," Emily huffed. "Where'd they go, anyway?"
"Where the pots are kept, obviously. You coming?" Without waiting Scottie took off across the room and Emily took long strides to stay close to him.
They found Sherlock and John already talking with Soo Lin by the time they'd arrived on the scene. She and John were seated on stools at opposite ends of a table while Sherlock remained standing. Scottie and Emily entered quietly, not wanting to interrupt.
"I had to finish… to finish this work," Soo Lin was saying. "It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me."
"Who is he? Have you met him before?"
The Chinese woman nodded. "When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognize his… signature."
"The cipher," Sherlock clarified.
"Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu."
"Zhi Zhu?" echoed John. He glanced round at Emily, who was just pulling up a stool next to him.
"Oh. Um. Don't mind me."
"The Spider," Sherlock said.
Soo Lin kept her eyes on the newcomers for a moment. Deciding that they could be trusted as well, she lifted one leg atop the other and unlaced her shoe, removing it from her foot to reveal a black tattoo of a lotus flower within a circle. "Do you know this mark?"
"Yes. It's the mark of a Tong."
"Hm?"
"Ancient crime syndicate based in China."
John nodded at this and looked back at Soo Lin for her to continue.
"Every foot soldier bears the mark. Everyone who hauls for them."
"Hauls?" John's eyes widened with understanding. "Y-You mean, you were a smuggler?"
Soo Lin lowered her gaze as if embarrassed to admit so. "I was fifteen," she went on. "My parents were dead. I had no livelihood; no way of surviving day to day except to work for the bosses."
"Who are they?" asked Sherlock.
"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds' worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England." She smiled a little as she said this. "They gave me a job here. Everything was good. A new life."
"Then he came looking for you," Sherlock finished for her.
"Yes."
Soo Lin swallowed, looking much smaller and tearful now. "I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours - they are never very far away." She wiped away a tear before continuing. "He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen."
John leaned forward. "And you've no idea what it was?"
"I refused to help."
"So you knew him well when you were living back in China?"
"Oh yes," Soo Lin nodded. "He's my brother. Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one they call Shan - the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting."
"She should come back with us," Scottie said quickly. "And soon."
"Isn't it safer for her here?" argued John. "Where no one will think to look for her?"
"Sherlock thought to look for her here."
"That's different."
"I'm just saying, with all of us acting as her bodyguards the entire time maybe something bad won't… theoretically happen."
"Can you decipher these?" Sherlock interjected, laying the photographs he'd brought with him on the table.
"These are numbers," the woman told him, pointing at a marking on one of the pictures.
"Yes, I know."
Soo Lin pointed at another spot. "Here: the line across that man's eyes. It's the Chinese number one."
Now Sherlock pointed at one of them. "And this one is fifteen. But what's the code?"
"All the smugglers know it. It's based upon a book…" But before she could explain further, all the lights that were currently on went out at once. Soo Lin went pale. "He's here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me."
"Sh-Sherlock!" John called after his flatmate with a lowered voice. But Sherlock was already charging out of the room. "Sherlock, wait!" John took Emily's hand in his and came around the table to grab Soo Lin's with his other hand. "Come here." He pulled both females with him towards another smaller room, saying, "Get in, get in! I have to go and help. Bolt the door after me." He left the room and ran out into the museum's foyer. There was a gunshot sound, but it was muffled from where they were.
"Now hang on just a minute," Emily protested, coming out after him. "I get the whole Knight in Shining Armor thing, I really do, but don't you see how that's just a little offensive?"
"Not to mention sexist," added Scottie. "Why don't I get to be escorted to safety?"
"What are you doing?!" John called back to them from across the room, looking distressed. "Get back in there!" Not waiting to see if they were planning on doing as he'd instructed, John continued onwards.
Yet another gunshot was fired, this time much louder as it echoed throughout the foyer, making it difficult to tell exactly which direction it had come from. The children's hearts both skipped a beat at the sound and they tensed up, eyes wide. Sherlock's figure came sprinting across the foyer as this was happening and he kept going up a flight of stairs. More shots rang out, and they were even closer now; close enough for the two of them to be in the line of fire. Scottie leapt into Emily's arms and then, almost as an afterthought, let out a high-pitched scream directly in her ear. She struggled to support his weight for mere seconds before toppling over backwards.
"Truce?" he asked, still sitting on top of the girl.
The girl shoved him off of her. "Truce," she said reluctantly.
"Oh my god oh my god oh my god," Scottie was whimpering. "Sherlock and John are probably fine, but WE MIGHT ACTUALLY GET SHOT AND DIE?"
"M-Maybe if we die here we'll just sent home?" offered Emily, already scooting up against the wall. "Like a video game going back to the last save spot?"
Scottie crawled after her quickly. "Yeah, well I don't know about you, but I for one don't want to have to find out!"
Yet another shot fired. Both teenagers yelped and clung to one another in a tight clump at the corner of the room. Several more shots rang out a little ways away. Suddenly Scottie pulled away and met Emily's eyes with a look of urgency.
"Soo Lin!" he gasped.
"What about her?"
"What do you mean what about her? She's about to get murdered!"
"Oh. Well. Yeah, but there's not really anything we can do about that. I mean, it happens anyway."
"Don't be a jerk. If we hurry we might be able to get her out in time."
Emily stared back in disbelief. "Are you crazy? You can't outrun an armed Chinese smuggler. You'll just get yourself killed!"
"Well. If that happens then you have the privilege of yelling 'I told you so' over my dead body."
"H-Hey! Don't be like that!"
But before she could say anything else to stop him, there was a high pitched scream from a little ways away. Scottie took off running towards it and reached the doorway just in time to hear the gunshot and see Soo Lin's body crumple to the ground. Emily skidded to a halt just behind him and held a hand over mouth, immediately regretting having done so. Zhi Zhu knelt down and placed something in Soo Lin's hand.
"Hey! Asian Spiderman!" Scottie shouted, getting the assassin to whip his head around.
"Scottie!"
"T-Think fast!" The boy snatched a clay pot off of a nearby table and chucked it at Zhi Zhu. Of course, he missed by quite a lot and the artifact shattered upon hitting the ground.
Expression unchanging, Zhi Zhu stood up and pointed his weapon at Emily, who shrieked and dropped to the ground just as it went off. He came towards Scottie then, who remained frozen in fear. But instead of shooting at him as the boy anticipated, Zhi Zhu instead swung his arm out to the side, smacking Scottie's temple with the butt of his handgun and knocking his glasses off in the process.
"Motherfucker," Scottie yelped just as stumbled sideways, reaching for the wall to stop himself from hitting the floor as well. It wasn't successful.
He apparently hadn't been struck quite hard enough to be knocked out, but the throbbing at the side of his head made him wish he had been. Everything blurred (he wasn't sure whether this was due to the blow to the head or his lack of eyewear) but he thought he heard Emily saying that she was fine and someone else began patting his bleeding wound with a cloth, which if anything made it hurt even worse.
"You're lucky to be alive," his nurse was saying. He recognized John's voice but couldn't quite make the man out.
"My... My glasses..." he groaned.
John helped him put the object back on - much better. And they weren't even cracked or anything.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
Scottie frowned. "You already gave me back my glasses, idiot."
"I'm seeing if you have a concussion. Work with me. Now how many fingers?"
"...two."
"When's your birthday?"
"What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Soo Lin's dead! So stop worrying about me!"
"I think the boy will be fine," Sherlock's baritone voice came from the doorway. "Shall we, then?"
"Wh - just like that? Soo Lin's just been murdered, Scottie has a head wound, and you're casually suggesting we move on with our lives as if nothing's wrong? While her killer is still out there?"
"He has no reason for coming back here." Sherlock took several steps into the room and began picking up the papers Soo Lin was in the middle of translating. "And there's nothing we can do for poor Miss Yao here."
"Shall I call the Yard, then?" Emily suggested, already reaching for her phone.
"Don't bother. I'll go myself."
"And what about us?"
"I think you've had quite enough excitement for one day."
A taxi dropped John and the kids outside of their building on Baker Street and Sherlock continued on to meet with Inspector Dimmock at New Scotland Yard. Once inside, John removed his coat and asked Emily if she could be so kind as to get a ziplock baggie and fill it with ice for Scottie.
"Uh, how about no," the girl retorted stubbornly.
"N-What do you mean, no?! What if Scottie has head trauma?"
"Then it would serve him right. That useless piece of shit almost got me killed!"
Scottie narrowed his eyes. "It's a shame I didn't, bitch."
"Yeah, yeah. And I'm disappointed that Zazu or whatever the fuck his name was didn't hit hard enough to render you unconscious. Maybe then-"
"Hey hey," John interrupted. "That's about enough out of you two! You both survived an encounter with an armed and dangerous assassin today and as such, each of you should be grateful to know that the other one is alive and well. Soo Lin wasn't so lucky and I'm both shocked and appalled by your disrespect." The teens looked away guiltily but otherwise said nothing. "Emily, I want you to go downstairs and see if Mrs. Hudson needs help with anything," John continued after a brief pause. "Scottie, you have a seat on the sofa and I'll get you that ice."
Emily exhaled rather loudly but restrained herself from complaining as she left the room, slamming its door shut behind her. Scottie then threw himself down upon the couch and John stood for a moment clenching and unclenching his fists before venturing into the kitchen.
"I didn't mean to get her shot at," the boy mumbled after a while. "I was just trying to… I thought that maybe if we got there in time, we could…"
John hesitated between handfuls of ice as if pondering a response. "Don't blame yourself for Soo Lin's death," the doctor answered as he resumed was he was doing. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent it, but the fact that you tried at all is what matters. Emily might be pissy and resentful at times, but I think she knows that too. If anything, I was the one who should have stayed with her the entire time."
He came back into the living room and brought Scottie the icepack he'd made, which he had wrapped in a cloth. Scottie took the cold object and placed it gently against the side of his head.
"Is that alright?" John asked, taking a seat next to him.
Scottie nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. And, um… about Soo Lin… That wasn't your fault either. So… Don't be hard on yourself to try and make me feel better."
"Well. I at least hope that in light of this, Sherlock is able to convince that new guy that the Yard needs to get involved. Say, is there anything on the telly you'd like to watch? You'll be fine, I'm sure, but it'll only help to rest up."
And so John and Scottie relocated Sherlock and John's armchairs in front of the screen and sat through two and a half episodes of How It's Made (with Scottie just beginning to doze off) before the front door flung open again. John straightened his back and shut the TV off, which messed up Scottie, who had just been using the man's upper thigh as a pillow.
"You're back," John observed. "How'd it go?"
Sherlock wasted no time into throwing them back into the case. "Not just a criminal organization; it's a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders."
"Soo Lin said the name."
"Yes, Shan. General Shan."
"We're still no closer to finding them," John pointed out.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "We might have been, except that you and Scottie have instead wasted the last hour or more learning how to make… garbage bags, if I'm not mistaken? But never mind. We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces."
"Actually I may've missed most of that one," Scottie admitted. "But I can teach you a thing or two about making hot dogs and crayons from scratch. Y'know, if that ever comes up or whatever."
Sherlock hesitated before continuing his train of thought, as if not quite sure how to respond to Scottie's comment: "Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?"
"She worked at the museum," John realized, standing up.
"Exactly."
"An expert in antiquities. Mm, of course. I see."
"Valuable antiquities, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China's home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution."
"And the Black Lotus is selling them."
"Scottie, fetch me my computer."
The boy propped himself up over the edge of the armchair at the mention of his name.
"He's injured. More or less."
Sherlock didn't appear to follow how this had anything to do with his request. "So?" he asked with a blank stare.
John frowned. "So, I don't think running around fetching you things you could easily get yourself is such a good idea for him right now."
"Guys. I'm fine. It doesn't even hurt anymore."
"Okay, then Emily can. Where is she, anyway?"
"I told her to ask Mrs. Hudson if she needed help with anything. So she's probably downstairs on Tumblr or watching Netflix."
"I said I'm fine. And I've got the thing," Scottie said, pushing his way between the two adults to place Sherlock's laptop down on the dining table. Sherlock thanked him and pulled out a chair in front of it. It was quiet for a little while as the machine started up and then Sherlock opened up a webpage and began typing away. Scottie and John hovered over each of the detective's shoulders to see what he was doing.
"Auctions?"
"Mm-hm," Sherlock replied absently. "Check for the dates…" He scrolled down a bit and then pointed at the screen. "Here, John."
"Mm."
"Arrived from China four days ago. Anonymous. Vendor doesn't give his name. Two undiscovered treasures from the East."
John nodded slowly. "One in Lukis' suitcase and one in Van Coon's."
"...antiquities sold at auction," Sherlock said aloud as he typed into a new search bar and hit enter. "Look, here's another one."
"Mm," John repeated.
"Arrived from China a month ago: Chinese ceramic statue, sold four hundred thousand."
John glanced down at Lukis' diary, which had been left open on the table, and back at the screen. "Ah, look - a month before that - a Chinese painting, half a million."
"All of them from an anonymous source," Sherlock concluded. "They're stealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain."
"Huh." He looked at the diary again and then at a printout of Van Coon's calendar. "And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon travelling to China."
"So what if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?"
"Ayyyy, you're - we're - finally starting to figure it out!" Scottie grinned.
"Shush."
The boy's smile quickly faded. Their conversation was then interrupted by Mrs. Hudson, who knocked on the open door with her infamous "ooh-ooh!" that made all the boys in the room lift their head. "Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock?"
"What?"
"A young man's outside with crates of books."
"Oh. Yes. About that. Mrs. Hudson, would you mind bringing Emily back up? Her assistance is required."
The landlady tilted her head to the side slightly. "Emily? Is she not with you boys?"
"Doesn't that just figure," sighed John.
"And tell the man outside that he's welcome to bring them up," Sherlock instructed without looking up from the computer screen.
Mrs. Hudson disappeared downstairs again and a few minutes later a pair of police officers entered the flat, carrying in a large plastic crate. Sherlock sort of gestured to one end of the room for them to set it down in before they left to retrieve the next one. This went on for some time, and between the enormous stacks of plastic crates labeled both Lukis and Van Coon, there wasn't much walking space left by the time Emily came back in.
"So, the numbers are references," Sherlock was explaining to John.
"To books."
"To specific pages and specific words on those pages."
John nodded slowly. "Right. So… Fifteen and one. That means…"
"Page fifteen, first word on that page," Scottie yawned.
"Okay. So what's the message."
Sherlock smirked. "Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code. Has to be one that they both owned."
John scanned his eyes across the room with a bewildered sort of look. "Okay, right," he breathed. "Well, this shouldn't take too long, should it?"
"Oh, fuck no, I did not sign up for this," Emily groaned and immediately turned to leave.
"Nice try." John flipped open the lid to one of the top bins and pulled out as many books as he could carry in one hand. With his other he pulled the girl back into the room by her shoulder and handed the stack over to her. She let out soft moan and hunkered down on the couch to look through them. "You too, Scottie."
Sherlock, Scottie and John each grabbed a set of books for themselves and retreated to their own workspaces. Just as they were doing so Dimmock walked in holding up an evidence bag for Sherlock and then John, respectively.
"We found these at the museum. Is this your writing?"
John took the bag from him and set it down on the table. "Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us. Ta."
The Detective Inspector nodded awkwardly and turned back to Sherlock, who continued to unload his crate.
"Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?"
"Some silence right now would be marvellous."
Dimmock stared back at Sherlock for a moment and then looked across to John, who shook his head apologetically, and then turned to leave the room. Emily slammed the book she was currently looking at down on the coffee table and jumped up to meet him at the doorway.
"Wait! Uh, Dimmock, sir… I actually, um, have a few further insights about the case I wanted to share with you." She tucked several loose strands of hair behind her ear, smiling as innocently as possible. "Perhaps, seeing as you're not too busy at the moment, we could discuss it over a cup of coffee, or…?"
The older man squinted back at Emily. "Aren't you a minor?"
"Why should that matter? Coffee's still a non-alcoholic beverage in the UK, isn't it?"
"Oh." Dimmock made a face. "I assumed you were implying, well…"
"I mean, I'm not opposed to that either," Emily said softly, taking a step closer.
"EMILY, GET BACK TO CATALOGING THOSE BOOKS AND LEAVE THE POOR MAN ALONE. Dimmock, please shut the door on your way out."
"I'm married," the Inspector hissed at Emily just before storming out of the flat and shutting the door on his way out. Emily shot a glare in Sherlock's direction. She then snatched up her current pile of books from the coffee table with a swooping motion and took them with her into the kitchen, where Scottie had set up shop and was currently drawing a picture of a scythe or something rather than writing down book titles and what the first word of the code would have been if they were the right one. As Emily approached he shoved the paper underneath one of the books and began flipping through it as if trying to look like he was busy working.
"Don't think I've forgiven you or anything, but I'm going to ignore that for a minute to rant about how dumb this is," she whispered, being sure to get close enough to Scottie so that the others couldn't hear. "Why should we waste hours and hours doing a chore like this when we know which is the right one? Wouldn't it be more convenient to, say, go for that book specifically and hand it over? Speed the whole process up?"
Scottie shut his book and slowly shifted his gaze up to Emily to give her The Look. He answered her with the same harsh whisper. "Because, o flatmate dearest, finding the right skip a day ahead of schedule could risk throwing off the entire episode's timeline. And we both remember what happened in A Study in Pink, when John nearly didn't get there in time."
Emily wrinkled her nose but didn't argue. As much as he'd pissed her off the past few days, she knew he was right about the whole playing along aspect of their being there. "Whatever," she huffed. "If we're pulling an all-nighter I'm going to need some caffeine in me."
Emily then pulled out her favorite of John's mugs, which displayed the insignia of the Royal Army Medical Corps, and began filling it with tap water from the sink. Once it was full she stuck the thing in the microwave and pushed the minute button.
"I wouldn't let Mrs. Hudson see you making tea like that if I were you," Scottie sang, the volume of his voice now having returned to normal. "Might have a heart attack."
"I'm American. I do what I want."
"Okay, just don't let her see."
"Piss off."
They didn't pull an all-nighter after all, but John and Sherlock had managed to trudge on the entire time (although John admittedly looked as if he were about to keel over himself). Emily had long since curled up in a blanket on the couch and fallen asleep, and Scottie tried to keep going for just a bit longer before he himself passed out with his face on the kitchen table. John was then kind enough to carry him into Sherlock's room, which of course woke Scottie up, but he pretended to remain asleep during the entire thing as to not spoil the moment.
Now it was morning and daylight streamed into the flat through the half-closed curtains. Books were scattered anywhere and everywhere over the table and about the room. Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair and looked around at the mess, sighing. John was just beginning to doze off where he sat when an alarm went off on his watch and he blinked several times in succession. He glanced down at the wristwatch unhappily and then out the window. Now it was John's turn to sigh tiredly and bury his head in his hands.
Several hours after he had left for work, Scottie began to stir again. He awoke in Sherlock's bed, and his first coherent thought was of how unbelievable this situation would have seemed to him just a few months earlier. But even though the novelty of it all never truly wore off, being here had begun to feel routine. Ordinary. And that was an awareness that sort of surprised him. Still, he had a hard time understanding why Emily would still consider trading all this for her old, boring life, and that sort of betrayal was what had ticked him off.
Trying to forget about being upset about that for the time being, Scottie tilted his head up to view the framed certificate of some sort written in what he assumed was Japanese. Although he never intended to be a snoop, on more than one occasion Scottie had stolen in and poked through as many of Sherlock's things as he could get his hands on. Most fan fiction authors would probably kill for that kind of exposure into Sherlock's personal life.
Finally Scottie forced himself up and on his feet. He crossed through the kitchen to find Sherlock still engrossed in the same task as the night before, pulling out book after book and flipping through each and every one, matching up pairs between Lukis' and Van Coon's collections whenever he could.
"Jesus Christ, you're like a robot with infinite batteries or something," Scottie yawned and rubbed at his eye. "What's it been, ten hours?"
"Sleep well?" Sherlock asked, not stopping to look up.
"I don't think for very long."
On a quest for anything edible, the boy began digging through the pantry until he finally came across a single box of cereal. Looking pleased with himself, he began to fill a bowl for himself. "Actually you should probably take a nap or something too," he suggested, facing a kitchen chair towards Sherlock before sitting down to eat his breakfast. "You're not gonna be able to solve this case if you're too tired to see straight."
"Yes, thank you for your concern, Scottie."
"You haven't moved. Literally no one's moved since I left."
John looked from Sherlock, who remained in basically the exact same position at the opposite end of the room, to Emily, who had at some point changed her outfit but was now back on the couch with her laptop and drawing tablet out.
"I need to get some air," Sherlock said abruptly. "We're going out tonight."
"Actually, I've, er, got a date." John couldn't help but smile at sharing this news.
"What?"
"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun."
"That's what he was suggesting," Scottie and Emily subconsciously said out loud and over Sherlock's next line. Emily glanced up and narrowed her eyes at Scottie, who had popped his head out from the kitchen. He glared back and then disappeared around the door frame again.
John blinked. "No it wasn't… At least I hope not."
"Keep telling yourself that," Emily mumbled half to herself.
Sherlock looked disappointed in John's good news. "Where are you taking her?" the detective asked.
"Er, cinema."
"Oh, dull, boring, predictable." Sherlock pulled something out from his pocket and glided across the room to hand it over to John with a knowing smile. "Why don't you try this? In London for one night only."
John took the thing and sort of chuckled to himself. "Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice." He then made a show of handing the paper back to Sherlock, who took it reluctantly and set it down on top of one of the stacked plastic cases. "I'll be in the shower if anyone needs me." And with that the man continued through the kitchen and into the little hallway leading towards the flat's bathroom. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the man's back and went to sit down.
"So, are you gonna order tickets for him anyway?" Scottie asked, coming into the room.
Sherlock smirked. "Way ahead of you. Although it does appear as though I'll be needing one more. Could you pass me that paper again?" Sherlock motioned towards the ad that John had neglected with a flutter of his hand.
"Seriously? You literally just… You know what? Never mind." Scottie hurried over to fetch it for him regardless.
"Wait, can we come too?" asked Emily, peering up from behind her computer screen. "I've never been to a circus before."
Sherlock held out his cell phone in one hand and the paper with the Box Office number in the other, but he paused to give the girl an odd look. "I never said that it was a circus," he pointed out.
Emily went pale. "Oh. Um. I… I don't know why I said that, then. I guess I was just assuming. For some reason. Maybe… Maybe I saw something about one coming into town recently. S-So what is it, exactly?"
"...it is a circus."
"Oh. Well there you go," Emily smiled nervously. Leaning against one of the stacks of crates with folded arms, Scottie rolled his eyes at her. "Is that a yes then? Can we go?"
"Something tells me John wouldn't appreciate a couple of children showing up in the middle of his… date."
Emily raised a judgemental eyebrow. "Something tells me John wouldn't appreciate you showing up in the middle of his date, either."
"Ooooh," Scottie snickered. "Would you like some ice for that burn?"
The detective narrowed his eyes at Scottie. He then went on with dialing the circus' Box Office, saying, "Attendees must be 18 or over, ruling you both out anyway. Oh - yes, hello, this is Sherlock Holmes again. Could I actually purchase one additional ticket? ...yes, that's fine. Thank you."
The day went on rather uneventfully. Sherlock was, of course, able to persuade John into taking Sarah to the Chinese circus, who for whatever reason remained totally unaware that it had anything to do with their case. As sunset rolled around John left to pick up Sarah, and Sherlock trailed after them at a safe fifteen minute distance.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm headed out too." Emily pulled a jacket off of its hook and pulled open the door to 221B.
"Where to?" Scottie asked from where he'd been lying down in the middle of the floor.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I thought I'd see a movie while the others were out."
Scottie snorted. "Alone? Isn't that kind of sad, even by your standards?"
"At least I had friends back home," Emily snapped, slamming the door shut behind her.
The boy rolled onto his stomach before picking himself up and ran to the window, pulling aside a curtain to watch Emily come outside and hail a taxi. As soon as she'd driven off, Scottie hurried to put on his own jacket and raced down the stairs, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He had to wait a few minutes longer than Emily had before the next taxi cab came by, and when it did, Scottie hopped in and unwrinkled the address he'd scribbled down earlier.
Scottie certainly thought he was clever, sneaking off to the Chinese circus all by himself. When he got there he paid the cab driver and immediately began circling the building for some sort of back entrance. Behind it he discovered a little alleyway with a few side doors. One opened and someone came out of a it carrying what might have been a large trash bin. Scottie pressed up against the wall around the corner until the man had vanished out the other end. He peeked back into the alley to see that the man had left the door propped open so that he could get back inside easily. Scottie saw the opportunity and took it, tiptoeing as fast as he could up to the door and slipping inside.
It was even darker indoors than outside, which rather surprised him. Scottie stumbled around in the dark for a bit, hoping he was in the right place. Finally he could hear people a little ways away. Although it was difficult to make out exactly what they were saying, it certainly sounded close enough to the fake circus. Scottie reached out and felt a curtain, which he then pulled aside to reveal a backstage area consisting of a little lit up makeup station, several racks of clothing and a bunch of Chinese props.
Scottie then spotted a black duffel bag, partially unzipped with a can of yellow spray paint sticking out of the top. He crouched down in front of it, wondering if it was worth it to take the object with him and impress Sherlock, which would perhaps get him into less trouble for having snuck off after them.
"The fuck are you doing here?" an angry whisper came from behind him.
Scottie let out a loud sigh and stood up. "Probably the same thing as you." He turned around and faced Emily, who did not in the least look pleased to see him.
"Sherlock's going to kill you."
"Oh, don't be such a hypocrite. He's going to kill both of us now."
The kids then heard someone else coming into the dressing room, and they both ducked underneath the makeup station on the side more hidden by shadows and facing a box of props and then the bordering curtain. They couldn't see anything now, but heard the newcomer's footsteps as he entered the room. The man stopped a little ways behind them and muttered a "well, well" to himself. Definitely Sherlock.
Another person then entered, and just as they did so Sherlock dove behind a costume rack. This fourth person in the room didn't stick around long, and just as they left Sherlock came out of hiding again. He located the spray paint-filled duffle bag and bent down, picking one up with a grin that Scottie and Emily could only just see from their own hiding spots. "Found you," the detective sang. He stood up, came closer to one of the mirrors and shook the can. Sherlock then paused, spotting Scottie and Emily curled up on the floor just behind the stand. "Found you too," he said unhappily.
"Sherlock, look out!" Emily called out. She pointed a finger behind the consulting detective. Sherlock spun around just in time to see one of the costumes coming at him with a knife, now off of its stand and with someone inside of it.
Sherlock ducked out of the way and used the spray can he was still clutching as a means of blocking a second blow. Scottie and Emily came out of hiding and went for the warrior's arm carrying the knife, causing him to drop the weapon, and Scottie kicked it out of the way. Emily tried to jump onto his back and pull him down backwards, but this didn't play out nearly as well as she'd hoped. Sherlock then sprayed the can directly into the warrior's mask, hoping to blind him, and he stumbled backwards. Unfortunately Emily broke his fall. He flipped back onto two feet with little trouble and picked the girl up. Emily let out a shriek just before being hurled effortlessly at Sherlock, and the two of them went flying through the curtain and into the stage area on the other side.
Sherlock and Emily squirmed about on top of one another, both trying to stand up again despite being completely winded. The warrior then came flying through the curtain, landing just in front of the two of them and poised with the knife that he'd somehow gotten back. Everyone nearby seemed to be in various states of chaos and panic except for John, who immediately charged right at the warrior. This proved rather ineffective, however, as he was sent flying backwards across the room by a single kick. Scottie made an appearance again from the raised stage behind the warrior. He had a bundle of cloth in his hands, presumably from having ripped down one of the curtains, and threw it over the man while jumping on him.
This wasn't enough to knock him over, and Scottie fell off of his shoulders, but suddenly Sarah was on the scene and armed with one of the large arrows that she'd pulled out from the board after it'd been used in the performance. She jabbed the thing at what was probably the covered warrior's ribcage, and he stumbled backwards. Sarah immediately came in with a second attack in the same area and the warrior made a sort of grunting noise but didn't seem to be getting up. Panting, Sarah threw down the arrow to her side and offered out a hand to Scottie to help him to his feet.
Sherlock sat up and leaned forward, flipping up the curtain just enough to reveal the warrior's leg. He pulled off the guy's shoe, confirming that there was a tattoo there.
"Come on," John said, grabbing Sarah's hand and starting for the exit.
"Come on! Let's go!" Sherlock said even louder, pushing past them with Scottie in tow. Emily scrambled to her feet and followed after them.
"I'm Emily, by the way," Emily was saying. She offered out a hand to Sarah, who still looked pretty shaken up. She took it timidly.
"Oh. Are you, um… Are you with him, then?" She gestured to Sherlock, who was currently with John at New Scotland Yard and arguing with Dimmock.
"Yeah. Sort of."
"And John," Scottie added. "They adopted us. We have two dads. That's not a problem, is it?"
"Scottie," Emily warned.
Sarah blinked in surprise. "You… You don't say? John never mentioned kids."
"No, I don't suppose he would. It's not exactly a selling point for hooking up with chicks."
"Scottie."
"They're not… you know… Are they?"
"Oh, absolutely! That's exactly how it is."
"SCOTTIE!"
The boy grinned back at Emily wickedly. She shook her head, giving him a dirty look.
"He's joking," Emily assured Sarah.
"So you're not their kids, then?" the woman tried to clarify.
"I mean we are. But they're not like that."
Sarah didn't look like she was following.
"Sherlock's our real dad," Emily finally lied, not wanting to have to explain the full story. "Scottie just likes to play around. But they're flatmates, him and John, so sometimes it does feel like we have two dads." Scottie rolled his eyes and looked away, but thankfully didn't argue with her.
There was an uncomfortable silence and now the group could hear the other conversation going on. "Lukis and Van Coon were part of a - a smuggling operation," John was in the middle of trying to explain. "Now, one of them stole something when they were in China. Something valuable."
"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back," Sherlock added.
Dimmock narrowed his eyes at each of them in turn. "Get what back?"
Sherlock bit his lip and looked away angrily. John stared at him for a moment before admitting to the Detective Inspector that they didn't know.
"You don't know," Dimmock echoed. "Mr. Holmes…" The man sat down with a disappointed look about him. "I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something. I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it other than a massive bill for overtime."
"We'll find it," promised John. "Whatever it is, we'll find it. Or at least figure out what it is they're looking for."
"You'd better."
"And we will. Coming?" Sherlock pushed past Scottie, Emily and Sarah on his way out.
"Back to headquarters it is," Emily muttered.
Outside the Yard, the five of them huddled up on the sidewalk. "We're going to have to take separate taxis," John commented.
"Dibs on Sherlock," Scottie said.
"Dibs on John," Emily said at the same time.
"Um. Also dibs on John, then," Sarah said awkwardly.
Emily smiled. "I like her. And even between Mrs. Hudson and I there isn't nearly enough estrogen in that complex. So hold onto this one, okay?"
John blinked. "Uh. Alright?"
The first taxi came and Sherlock and Scottie left in it, and a few minutes later John, Emily, and Sarah got into a second. They came into 221B Baker Street to find Sherlock standing in front of the fireplace and staring determinedly at the pictures taped up above it.
"They'll be back in China by tomorrow," John mentioned.
"No, they won't leave without what they came for. We need to find their hideout. The rendezvous."
Sherlock ran his fingers over the photograph of the painted brick wall. "Somewhere in this message it must tell us..."
Emily glanced over at Sarah, who was currently hovering behind the group and probably feeling rather out of place. "Oh! Can I, uh, get you anything? We've mostly just got water and tea, but…"
"Actually you probably should go," Scottie countered. "The boys are likely going to be at this all night. Rather boring for you. In fact, you'd probably just get in their way."
"Scottie!" John choked, whipping his head around. "He's kidding. Of course you can stay. Right?" He looked at Sherlock questioningly, then back at Sarah when the man didn't turn his head or answer. "You can stay."
"Yes, it would be better to study if you left now," Sherlock replied simultaneously.
John glared at Sherlock. "He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like."
"Yes, please do stay," Emily agreed.
Scottie let out a melodramatic sigh and threw himself down on the couch. Sarah smiled awkwardly before saying "Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?"
"Ooh, god," Sherlock let out, shutting his eyes.
"I feel you, bro," Scottie said softly from across the room.
"Oh! Um. Ah. Yes, I'll uh, I'll get working on that," John announced, feeling obligated to cater to his guest. "Uhm. You just hang tight."
The doctor scurried off into the kitchen. Sherlock ripped several pictures off of the mirror above the fireplace and took them over to the living room's table to rummage through. Now that the area was left open, Sarah walked over to it and had a look at what he'd left up.
"So this is what you do, you and John. You solve puzzles for a living."
"Consulting detective."
"Oh."
Everyone in the room aside from Sherlock remained perfectly still in a tense silence before Sarah migrated to just behind Sherlock and peered over his shoulder. "What are these squiggles?" she asked, pointing.
Sherlock looked up with a face that suggested he was very much trying not to kill her for John's sake. "They're numbers," he answered stiffly. "An ancient Chinese dialect."
Sarah's response was unbelievably sarcastic. "Oh, right. Yeah. Well, of course I should have known that."
"Hey, Sarah!" Emily called out from where she'd joined Scottie at the opposite end of the couch. Sarah turned her head. "Why don't you come over here? Sherlock looks pretty busy, but Scottie and I can explain what's going on and maybe you won't feel so out of the loop that way."
The woman hesitated for a moment before crossing the room. Emily scooted over to the middle of the couch to give her room to get in without stepping over a person or the constantly cluttered coffee table.
"Wonderful, now we're entertaining John's date," Scottie groaned.
"Oh, get over yourself," hissed Emily. "Sarah's great. We're friends now, see?" Emily hugged onto the other female's arm as if proving a point.
"Are we?" Sarah questioned.
"Aren't we?"
"Oh. I mean. Yes. Absolutely."
"See?" Emily said again, leaning forward to give Scottie a look.
"So uh, what about this… this case, then?" Sarah asked, pulling her arm away. "If that's what you'd call it."
"It's a long story," Scottie said quickly. "You probably wouldn't even care."
"I think I'd like to decide that for myself, if you didn't mind…"
"Emily's also so bad at telling it, I wouldn't be surprised if you fell asleep halfway through."
The younger girl scowled. "Ignore him. He's not much of a people person. Terrible with company. Always gets like this."
"Mm. Must come from his father, then."
"What? Oh, right! Yeah. Probably."
"You're full of shit," the boy growled.
"Hey! Aren't you a little young to be talking like that?"
"I'll say whatever the fuck I want."
"Jesus Christ, Scottie, can't you at least pretend to be agreeable?!"
Sarah stood up then, effectively cutting them both off. "You know what, this has been an interesting conversation, but I think I'm going to go see what Sherlock's up to. Could need my assistance. You never know."
"Oh, I think we would know," murmured Scottie.
Without another word Sarah climbed over the coffee table, knocking over several loose leaf papers in the process but being sure to crouch down and put them back before coming back to Sherlock's side. The detective didn't look at all pleased by her return.
"You're an asshole," Emily hissed at Scottie.
"Learned it from the best," he sneered back.
"So these numbers… it's a cipher?" Sarah asked.
Sherlock lifted his head again and met her eyes. "How did you know that?"
"Well, two words have already been translated, here." Sarah reached across the table and pointed at the photo of the brick wall that Soo Lin had begun to write on. Sherlock stared at the thing in disbelief and brought it closer in front of himself.
"John."
"Mm?" John called from the kitchen. The man leaned to the side to see into the room.
"John, look at this." Sherlock stood up and took the photo from its evidence bag as John came out of the kitchen to see. "Soo Lin at the museum, she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it! "Nine" "mill"."
John squinted at the photograph. "Does that mean millions?"
"Nine million quid. For what?" All too eager to get out of the flat and as far away from Sarah as possible, Sherlock hurried over to fetch his coat and scarf. "We need to know the end of this sentence," he explained.
"Where are you going?"
"To the museum; to the restoration room. Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"
"At - at what?"
"The book, John! The book - the key to cracking the cipher!"
"How mad would you be if I just told him the damned message?" yawned Emily.
Scottie gasped. "You wouldn't fucking dare."
"I'm just saying, it'd sure speed this whole thing up."
Sherlock had just left, but the kids hardly seemed to notice it. Scottie stared back at her in utter astonishment. "Speed it up? What do you care about speeding it up? It'd just throw a wrench in the episode's timeline, that's what it'd do. You'd be personally responsible for screwing up an entire episode."
"By what? Trying to be helpful?"
"Are you just in that much of a hurry to get home?!"
"If it means not having to be stuck spending time with you anymore, then hell yes, I am!" Emily spat back.
"Hey hey hey, cool it, guys!" John jumped in between the two of them, hoping to break up the fight. "We have company over. Is it too much to ask for a little civility? For her sake?"
"Hey, I'll stop causing problems as soon as she does," Scottie announced. "And if you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of your lady friend, maybe you should've considered, y'know, dropping her off before you got dragged back into this crazy home situation."
"Is that what this is about? You don't like the fact that I have a date?"
"Well it wasn't, but it certainly can be."
"Just look at him, causing all kinds of problems tonight," Emily scoffed. "You're even worse than Sherlock when it comes to offending people."
"I think I'd better go," Sarah said apologetically, gathering up what little things she had with her and inching towards the door.
John's eyes widened. "Wait, what? No, why?"
"I understand how it is with kids sometimes. I'll let you work this one out."
"N-No, please! Please. Sarah. No one wants you to go, I promise." Following her out into the foyer, he reached an arm out as if trying to pull her back in, but the woman just kept on shaking her head.
"No, really, it's fine," Sarah kept saying.
"The next date won't be like this. Any of it. I promise."
"I know." Sarah stepped forward, giving John a quick peck on the lips. Blushing, she turned away again and started down the stairs.
"C-Call me!" John shouted after her as she disappeared. There was a long and uncomfortable silence. John then whipped his head around at Scottie and Emily, who stood across from him in the living room looking guilty. Realizing he looked hella pissed, they both made a mad dash for the other room. What the guilty party hadn't counted on was that he would re-enter the flat through its door opening up to the kitchen, successfully cutting Scottie and Emily off.
"Busted," Emily gulped.
John was fuming. He clenched his hands into tight fists. "I hope you're proud of yourselves, scaring away guests like that. Ruining my date."
Scottie rolled his eyes. "Oh, boo hoo. So you're not getting laid tonight. Big whoop."
"Oh, shut up! Sarah was nice and as much as you don't want to admit it, you liked her too. But I don't suppose she's going to think too highly of us after that little scene you caused back there."
"I'm sorry, but did you just say the scene I caused? Because-"
"I'm dead serious!" the doctor shouted. "This fighting has got to stop. We're caught up in the middle of Chinese gang violence, for God's sake! If you two don't start growing up sooner or later someone's going to get killed. And even if that weren't the case, your behavior was totally inappropriate for having company over. You embarrassed me in front of Sarah tonight. All I wanted was to have one nice, romantic night to myself - just one. But apparently that can't happen, because instead I have to spend it scolding a couple of five year olds!"
"I'll stop as soon as Emily quits being such a colossal twat every two minutes," Scottie said with a humph.
"I could say the same thing about you, assface!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH! You're grounded, both of you!"
Scottie snorted. "What, are we not allowed to text our friends or go to parties? Because son, I've got some news for you…"
John frowned. "No, but I can stop you from coming with us on cases and change the wifi password."
There was a collective gasp from the teenagers.
"You ungrateful little shits," John shook his head disapprovingly. "You're not making any money for yourselves. Mrs. Hudson lets you have an entire flat for free, and Sherlock and I are constantly making sure you're getting fed. And this is how you repay us? By using vulgar language and causing a scene everywhere we go? Getting kicked out of banks? Do you guys even know what it is you're fighting about anymore? Because I bloody well don't." Scottie and Emily met eyes and then looked away again. John sighed.
There was a knock on the front door downstairs. John pointed a finger at Scottie and Emily. "I'll go see who that is. This conversation isn't over." The man exited the flat through the door he'd come in on, shutting it behind him.
"So um. Scottie… Maybe John's right, and we should… y'know. Talk about this."
Scottie shrugged, still not looking at her. "I don't think there's anything that needs to be said that hasn't been already."
The girl huffed. "Why are you always doing that?"
"Doing what? Being honest?"
"Being a shit, that's what! You say you respect other people's opinions, but God forbid it's anything different from yours-"
"Shhh!"
"What? No! Don't you shush me when I'm lecturing you!"
Just then a small group of Chinese men wearing jackets with their hoods pulled up filed into the room. Scottie immediately tried to fight back, grabbing a metal tool from where it had been resting beside the fireplace. He took a swing at the nearest Chinese man, but the guy grabbed it without any concern whatsoever and pulled the weapon out of Scottie's hand, dropping it behind him. Emily let out a shriek that was quickly muffled by a cloth that one of them pressed up against her mouth, holding her from behind. They did the same to Scottie, knocking him on the floor and holding him down with it. They both became dizzy as the world around them started to fade to black.
When Scottie and Emily regained consciousness, they saw that they had apparently taken Sarah's place and were in some sort of large tunnel, dimly lit in several places by fires burning in trash bins. They were each tied to a couple of chairs with their backs pressed together, gags in their mouths, and feeling rather stupid for not having seen this coming in the least. A little ways away they could see John in a similar situation. Unlike them, his mouth was free, but he had a still-bleeding cut on his left temple.
A Chinese woman wearing sunglasses despite the darkness came forward, and the teens recognized her as the opera singer from the performance earlier. Well, they recognized her as Shan as well, but they weren't necessarily supposed to know that piece of information just yet.
"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket." Shan stopped in front of John and lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head dramatically. "Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."
John looked at her, startled. "I… I'm not Sherlock Holmes."
Shan smiled humorlessly. "Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." The woman reached forward and pulled John's jacket open, rummaging through its inner pocket. John winced in pain. Having found his wallet, she leaned back again and removed an item from it. "Debit card, name of S. Holmes."
"Yes, that's not actually mine. He lent that to me."
"A check for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes…"
"Yeah, he gave me that to look after."
"Tickets from the theater, collected by you, name of Sherlock Holmes."
"I realize what this looks like," John pleaded, "but I'm not him."
"We heard it from your own mouth," Shan continued.
"What?"
"I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone."
John kept his eyes fixed ahead in disbelief. "Did I really say that?" He chuckled weakly and then lowered his head in pain. "I s'pose there's no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression."
Shan raised a gun then, pointing it at John's head. John cringed away from it, starting to panic. Shan smiled. "I am Shan."
"You're… You're Shan?"
"Three times we tried to kill you and your companions, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" She lifted her hand cocked the pistol.
John turned his head away, muttering "Don't, don't," and struggling against his bonds. As Shan's finger tightened around the trigger he looked up at the barrel of the gun in terror. From just a few feet away Scottie looked on helplessly, while Emily had to turn her head away just in case things didn't go according to the script.
Shan pulled the trigger back all the way and the gun made a clicking noise, but nothing else happened. She smiled deviously. "It tells you that they're not really trying."
John was breathing heavily now. Shan slid a clip into the gun and cocked it before resuming her stance with the weapon aimed at John. "Not blank bullets now," she mused.
"Okay," John wheezed.
"If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We wanted to make you inquisitive. Do you have it?"
"Do I have what?"
"The treasure."
"I don't know what you're talking about," insisted John.
Shan turned away. "I would prefer to make certain." The Chinese woman looked to her men now. One of them pulled away a cloth cover from what they could now see was the same crossbow that had been used in the circus act, already loaded with an arrow. John stared at it and sighed deeply just before Shan looked to him again. "Everything in the West has its price, and the price for their lives… information."
John turned his head towards where Scottie and Emily were being held captive. Two men lifted the conjoined chairs and brought them closer to the crossbow. Scottie and Emily squirmed against their bonds and cried out, but the gags prevented anyone from hearing what they said. "Sorry," John said softly. "I'm sorry."
"Where's the hairpin?" pressed Shan, gun still raised.
John continued to fight against his own bonds. "What?"
"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West, and then one of our people was greedy. He took it. Brought it back to London and you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching."
"Please," John tried desperately. "Please, listen to me. I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for."
"I need a volunteer from the audience," Shan said loudly.
"No, please. Please. They're just kids!"
"Oh, what is this? Two volunteers? How unusual… But, I suppose we can make it work. Thank you. Yes, you'll both do very nicely." Shan took out a knife now and brought it up to the sandbag suspended over the crossbow. She then stabbed the bag with her knife, letting the sand spill out of it slowly. Shan smiled dangerously and looked around, as if addressing an imaginary audience. "Ladies and gentlemen," the woman announced. "From the moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' little companions in a death-defying act."
"Please!" John wailed again.
Shan walked over to Emily, who was the one facing the crossbow head-on, and placed a black origami lotus flower in her lap.
"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John continued to call out desperately.
"I don't believe you."
"You should, you know," came Sherlock's very much welcomed voice. Scottie recognized his familiar silhouette at the far end of the tunnel and let out a squeal of delight. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him."
Now Shan pointed her gun at the real Sherlock, but he dove out of the way and disappeared into the shadows. One of Shan's thugs started sprinting towards him.
"How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"
"Late?" John chimed in with a hint of annoyance.
"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet with travel at over a thousand meters per second."
Shan made no effort to lower her gun. "Well?" she pressed.
"Well…" The Chinese man had gone after Sherlock was now at the end of the tunnel. Sherlock sprung out from where he'd been hiding and twacked the thug across his stomach with a metal pipe. The man collapsed to ground with a thud and Sherlock ran back into the darkness before continuing his train of thought. "The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you."
Sherlock lept out again and kicked over one of the burning trash bins. Shan's eyes widened and then squinted around the tunnel, which was now even harder to see in. Suddenly Sherlock appeared again, this time knelt down next to Scottie and Emily. He started attempting to detach their tied up hands from the backs of the chairs when another man came up from behind him (probably Zhi Zhu) and began to loop a red scarf around Sherlock's throat. The Chinese man that was probably Zhi Zhu then pulled at it and Sherlock stood up, struggling to yank it off from the front. Scottie made a dismayed sort of growling noise and Emily somehow managed to jab him quiet with the back of her shoulder. The girl looked back up at the tip of the arrow, positioned where it could easily go right through her own neck and into Scottie's in the same blow. Sand continued to drain out of its bag and she desperately hoped everything's timing wasn't thrown off from what happened in the original episode. And then something else occurred to her.
Rather than waiting and hoping it played out the same, Emily started rocking side to side as much as she could despite the ties. Scottie realized what she was doing and helped out, and together they were able to tip the chairs over and hit their sides against the ground with a soft thud. They let out a simultaneous sigh of relief through their noses and briefly wondered why the fuck Sherlock never thought to do that in the first place.
John made an attempt to stand up, which sort of worked, and he trudged forward a few steps, hunched over and dragging the chair with him, before falling over. From where he landed his head was now less than a foot away from Scottie and Emily's.
"Oh so you did manage to get out of the way," he muttered, looking up. "Good for you."
Only then did Scottie realize that their being out of immediate danger would prevent John from kicking at the crossbow and having it fire into the chest of the man Sherlock was currently fighting. He tried to reach out his own leg, but of course it was too far away. Using all of his effort, Scottie attempted to dig his feet into the ground and scoot closer. Now it was Emily's turn to help him, and she pushed against the ground at a weird angle, inching them forward. John didn't seem to know what was going on either, but still he turned himself around and gave them a good kick forward.
Scottie still wasn't anywhere near close enough to the crossbow to do what John would have done (and also didn't trust himself to not hit Sherlock even if he were). He was, however, considerably closer to Sherlock and the Chinese man. Sherlock's attacker wrapped yet another tight loop around the detective's neck, and it was becoming obvious that he was starting to go pale. Scottie waited for a moment until the duo got close enough and then he threw out both legs, wrapping them around the Chinese thug and pulling them in again so that he was knocked backwards. Assuming that this man was the same Zhi Zhu, revenge for the earlier blow felt rather sweet. Sherlock came tumbling down as well, crashing on top of him. The crossbow went off, its arrow flying straight forward but, as far as anyone in the immediate vicinity could tell, not hitting anything at the end of the tunnel. In the Chinese man's confusion Sherlock somehow wriggled out of the scarf and spun around on top of the man, using the same strip of cloth to pull his neck now. The other man fought to push Sherlock off of him, but after several seconds of struggling to do so he finally went limp. Sherlock let go of the scarf, taking deep and uneven breaths. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his wrist, swallowed, and then looked to Scottie.
"Thanks."
The group heard footsteps and assumed they were Shan's as she ran her ass out of there. Sherlock looked up but made no attempt to go after her. Instead he crawled towards John, Emily, and Scottie. "It's alright," he said as soothingly as possible, and John propped himself onto his elbows with a groan. Sherlock reached forward and untied Emily's gag and then Scottie's, taking each from their mouths. "You're gonna be alright," he kept saying. "It's over now. It's over."
Now kneeling, Sherlock brought their chairs upright again and continued to untie the ropes around their wrists. Once they were free Sherlock got to work on releasing John. Emily rubbed at her wrists uncomfortably.
"Hey, can we talk for a minute?" Scottie asked, dropping his voice. "It's about… you know. Earlier."
Emily frowned. "I thought you said there was nothing that hadn't already been said?" she asked softly.
"Shush. This past hour or so has been an eye-opening experience for me. Don't make me change my mind."
"Um. Okay?"
Scottie let out a breath and peered down the tunnel before turning back to Emily. "Look. Some of the stuff I called you earlier… I didn't mean all that, alright? It's just that. Well. You have this whole other life waiting for you back home that you're genuinely attached to. And I get that. I really do. But at the same time… I don't know, I guess I just didn't like you continuously pointing out the fact that I don't come from something like that. I try not to be jealous, but it isn't easy with you rubbing it in my face all the time. And all this… whatever it is, whyever we're here… I don't understand it either, and you're right. It is scary. But it's also the only place I've ever begun to feel like I truly belonged and was a part of. And I wanted you to respect that."
"I'm sorry. I… I didn't realize you felt that way," Emily replied sheepishly. "I suppose I was just scared about all that. Not knowing why we're here or what's going to happen to us now, I mean.. But then you were so unconcerned. All carefree and optimistic and I just… I guess that's what made me mad. I wish I could feel the same way about it as you do. That I could… enjoy every minute of this crazy, amazing ride without worrying about anything else. But I just can't. I don't know. It's dumb."
The was a pause during which neither of the two knew quite what to say next. They knew that they would never completely sympathize with the other, but they also saw where they each were coming from, and that made a difference.
"Awkward sibling hug?" Scottie finally offered.
Emily nodded. "Awkward sibling hug."
Scottie and Emily embraced one another for a moment and then both patted the other against their back while saying "pat, pat."
John, now standing a little ways away, smiled. "Sibling? I thought you guys weren't related."
"We're not," answered Scottie, "but technically you guys adopted us, so. That's how those things work, right?"
John blinked in surprise for a moment. "Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I suppose you're right." He hesitated, looking from Sherlock back to Scottie and Emily. "Awkward family hug?" he finally asked. With a grin, Scottie and Emily each offered out an arm and John came forward, hugging onto them both.
Sherlock stared wistfully off towards the tunnel exit. "As much as I love that everyone is getting along now and having a moment, I can just wait for you back at the flat."
"Oh, get in here," urged John. "You're just as much their dad as I am."
Although very hesitant at first, Sherlock did eventually come forward and join in, and all four of them just kind of stood there holding onto each other lovingly for an almost inappropriate amount of time. Because as unlikely as it might have seemed just a few short months earlier, this strange blend of fictional characters and their real-world fans had become a family. Sure, they had their obvious differences and fought about dumb things and got caught up in the middle of shootouts with Chinese smugglers, but despite all this, at the end of the day they all still loved and accepted one another. And isn't that what a family is really all about?
"Alright, enough of that," Sherlock finally said, pulling away and looking a tad embarrassed at having stooped to their level. "We've got company."
The four of them exited the tunnel to find the police had arrived to clean up the mess, so Sherlock must have called them on his way over. Inspector Dimmock was waiting beside his police car as they approached. Sherlock nodded to him. "We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report."
"Mr. Holmes…"
"I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career."
Dimmock seemingly forced a smile. "I go where you point me."
"Exactly," muttered Sherlock, already walking away with John and the kids trailing behind single file. Emily, who was last in line, winked at the Inspector as she passed, to which he very noticeably stiffened.
Scottie and Emily slept surprisingly well that night. They were up earlier than usual the following morning, and didn't bicker once as they got dressed and came to join Sherlock and John upstairs. The adults must have been up even earlier, because John was seated at the kitchen table looking over something as Sherlock poured the contents of a teapot into his flatmate's mug.
"Oh, did you want some?" he offered.
"Yes please," Emily said, already fishing a mug out of the cupboard for herself and handing it to him. Scottie simply shook his head.
"Ta…" John muttered to himself. "So, Nine mill."
"Million," Scottie said, pulling up a seat for himself. Sherlock handed Emily her tea and began pouring some for himself.
"Million, yes. Nine million for jade pin. Dragon den, black Tramway."
"An instruction to all their London operatives," clarified Sherlock.
"Mm."
"A message; what they were trying to reclaim."
"What, a jade pin?"
"Oy vey," muttered Emily as she sipped at her tea as carefully as possible as to not burn herself on it.
"Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout."
John still was having difficulty keeping up. "Hang on: a hairpin was worth nine million pounds?"
"Apparently," Sherlock said disinterestedly.
"Add that to list of reasons I don't understand fashion," Scottie chuckled.
"Why worth so much?"
"Depends on who owned it."
"Two operatives based in London," Sherlock was saying as he and others approached Shad Sanderson Bank. "They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those vases. One of them helps himself to something: a little hairpin."
"Worth nine million pounds," added John.
"Eddie Van Coon was the thief. He stole the treasure when he was in China."
"How d'you know it was Van Coon, not Lukis? Even the killer didn't know that."
Sherlock pushed through the bank's revolving doors confidently. "Because of the soap." He looked over his shoulder to give John a smug smile. John halted, staring back blankly, and then pressed forward once more.
They were walking quickly, and neither Scottie nor Emily said a word as they hurried to keep up with the older gentlemen. When they were nearing the top of the escalator Sherlock pulled out his phone. "He brought you a present," he said into it. "A little gift when he came back from China."
Sherlock turned around the corner, John just behind him, as Scottie and Emily reached the top of the escalator. Emily stepped off after Scottie and pulled her friend back by his sleeve. "Can this wait?" he asked and turned around. "I want to see the look on Amanda's face when she realizes just how much her pin is worth. I mean, technically I did see it, but I want to see it in person."
"Yeah about that…" The girl fished around in her bra for a moment (much to Scottie's confusion and annoyance) until she pulled out a tiny jade hairpin. The nine million pound Empress' Hairpin.
Scottie stared down at it wide-eyed. His eyes shifted back up to Emily, who smiled innocently.
"Where did you get that?"
"Off of Amanda's desk. When I was looking for the restroom before we got kicked out. I don't know, she set it down for a moment and… Look, Van Coon isn't the only person who's been known to suddenly get sticky fingers, alright?"
Scottie looked around, suddenly paranoid. "Emily," he hissed. "You knew how much it was worth and how important it was to the plot! I can't even… Oh my God, Emily! What the fuck is wrong with you! We all nearly died and you had it in your bra the ENTIRE FUCKING TIME!"
"What should I do?" she whispered worriedly. "I can't give it back now! Then they'll know I stole it in the first place!"
Scottie nodded slowly. "Whelp. You kinda dug yourself into this one. The only obvious solution is to RUN AND DON'T LOOK BACK!" The boy gave Emily a shove back the way they'd come, which resulted in the two of them frantically attempting to run down the escalator that was still going up.
"Gosh darn, not you kids again," a familiar voice rang out. "Hey! I thought I told you never to come back here!"
Suppressing giggles, the two troublemakers darted around the bank security guard and continued their mad dash to the rotating doors at the building's entrance. Emily was still clinging tightly to the Empress' Hairpin.
"You're going to have to get rid of that thing somewhere Sherlock will never think to look for it, you know," Scottie pointed out.
Still running, she glanced over at him guiltily. "Oh God. He's going to kill us when he finds out, isn't he?"
"I think you mean 'if' he finds out."
Emily grinned. "Ah, yes. If. If is good."
