TITLE: The Other One

CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter Four/ A Magic Trick

RATING: T (violence/language)

A/N: Look at this quick updates. I must really love you guys.

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Chapter Four: A Magic Trick

He had actually begun to enjoy his banter with the boy and had accidentally and quite carelessly slipped out of his put on accent. Something in the younger man's face twitched and Sherlock's features fell to something akin to horror.

As if in a mirror reactions to Sherlock's earlier, the stranger suddenly stood stonily. His eyes had grown almost cartoonishly wide and John might have laughed had he not been so terrified. He recognized that look, that reaction. He had worn the same one not two weeks ago. Two weeks ago when his supposedly dead flatmate had showed up in the middle of their sitting room.

At least, so far, it didn't seem as though either man was going to throw a punch like he had.

Instead, like a deer paralyzed in the headlights, the stranger was still, and then, just as suddenly, wasn't. The boy turned on a single spinning heel and sprinted down the alleyway in the opposite direction.

Sherlock tore after him like a flaring flash of light, bursting to life after a moment of darkness. John belatedly followed, hauling himself after Sherlock and the stranger. They pushed past pedestrians and slammed on the hoods of cars. The boy's long legs and swift speed vaguely reminded John of the other lanky individual involved in the chase. Yet, there were differences. Whereas the stranger would apologize in passing as he knocked into someone, Sherlock simply shouted rude remarks, as though he wasn't the madman barreling down the block.

It was only when they reached a corner, did Sherlock skid to a stop and then propel himself down the streets in a different direction. John had followed behind Sherlock's coattails while chasing criminals enough not to question the action. He was planning on cutting the younger man off through some various short cut only Sherlock Holmes could think of on the fly.

Only, ten minutes later, when John and Sherlock practically threw themselves from a fire escape and into the alley the boy was apparently expected to be in, he wasn't.

Sherlock cursed and John opened his mouth to question the man before the detective already had taken off again.

"Maybe he went another way," John suggested through greedy breaths as he bent only slightly forward.

"No," Sherlock hissed. "We have to go back."

Sherlock spun around, John just barely catching the way the man was blinking oddly heavily, and not from exhaustion. It was as though the genius was trying to blink something from his mind.

"Back, Sherlock, where?"

"Back where we first saw him." Sherlock snapped.

"Who?" John pushed. "Who is he?"

Sherlock didn't answer. He continued to turn his head, eyes hungrily devouring, searching, everything around them. He looked almost – lost.

"Sherlock -"

"You saw him," Sherlock suddenly seized John's shoulders again. "You saw him!"

"Yeah! We've been over this before. Remember?"

"Tell me, John," Sherlock continued, paying his friend's protests no mind. "Tell me what he looked like, exactly."

"You saw him too," John argued.

"No," Sherlock shouted. "I have to know what you saw."

"What the hell is going on, Sherlock? Who is this kid?"

"I promise, John. I will answer all your questions if you just tell me."

"Fine, yeah. Like I said before, young bloke. Maybe twenties. I think his eyes were blue, maybe. I wasn't exactly paying attention close attention. Tall -"

"Just a magic trick."

At those final words, Sherlock shot off once more.

Merlin was reeling. No, Merlin was retching. His feet skidded to a stop behind a skip and he bent over, spilling the small contents of his stomach on the pavement. The tearing apart of his heart and head, added with the sudden sprint, had him spewing until there was nothing left but dry heaves. Shakily, Merlin attempted to straighten. He spared a glance behind him, expecting to see his pursuers. A different pair of men crossed the mouth of the alley. Their gazes met and Merlin found himself wanting to vomit once more. This time out of terror.

"Oi! We've been lookin' for you!" The broad shouldered and big bellied man stomped forward. "You little bastard, you bloody cheated yesterday!"

Meriln swiftly rose his hands submissively.

"I do not cheat," the magician replied earnestly.

"I never lose!" The beast of a man bellowed.

"Statistically speaking, you have to lose some time, unless, you cheat."

"What're you tryin' to say?" The second rat faced robust man spoke for his flabbergasted friend.

"I was simply stating a fact, my friend," Merlin answered without sarcasm or malice in his voice.

"A fact?" The man parroted loudly. "The fact is you cheated and I'm takin' mi money back!"

The towering bear of a man advanced on Merlin before the younger and smaller man could finish opening his mouth to argue. His slack jaw was met by a curled and crusty fist. Merlin was still stumbling backwards when a second punch landed itself centered in the boy's stomach. Merlin doubled over as air was forcibly expelled from his lungs. A second pair of hands were on his arms now. He trashed and kicked against the capture behind him in vain. He was held firm, utterly open and defenseless as blow after blow made eager contact with his torso and face. He vaguely felt something split open against his skull and it took him a few more hits to realize it was his skin that had tore. The sticky substance was seeping into his eyes when his lip too was soon split and Merlin unwillingly drank in and coughed out his own blood. Hours later - no that wasn't right - maybe minutes? - Merlin's nose made a crunching noise that had the boy nearly heaving again if there had been anything left in him. He could feel the warm liquid draining from his nostrils, soaking his cracked lip. He was only distantly aware of the hands leaving his arms. It was only when his legs went limp underneath him did he realize he was about to kiss the pavement. He struggled feebly to steady himself but was instead caught by the hard ground. Every new injury pulsed and screamed as his body crashed against cement. He cracked open his eyes and momentarily forgot how he had gotten on the ground. A thick black fog crept over his muddled mind as his eyelids fluttered.

He was already unconscious before his pockets had been picked clean.