A/N: Another chapter. That's two in as many days. Not even 24 hours in between. Hope this makes up for the wait for the one yesterday!
Some notes on reviews:
FangirlKatydid: There's more fluff in this chapter. Right now I can't make it too fluffy, because, contrary to what we all wish, Sherlock is not a fluffy person. I'm glad I'm safe, because your wrath is probably a scary thing. And I work with you, so it would be in person.
foxchick1: Here's the circus. Hope you like it.
ciabha: Thanks for the reviews. I like your description of her. Got another reference for you in this one.
Fuchsia Grasshopper: It wouldn't let me put the dot in your name. Thanks! I'm glad you like it! Here's your update.
dixiejess321: Thanks for the review. She is epic! And (not saying anything, except I kind of am) Sherlock has known who she is from the beginning. And you know if your (future-)boyfriend's mother ships the two of you, it either means it's a match made in heaven, or his mother is desperate to have grandchildren.
Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! Here's the next chapter!
Performances
Sherlock insists we follow John and Sarah to the circus. We walk side-by-side in silence, several paces back from the two. I listen as John and Sarah make casual conversation, and chuckle when John "a friend recommended" the circus to him. I pull my phone out and send a quick text to both Molly and Audrey.
On my way to the circus with You-Know-Who. It's for the case. –KW
I'm about to put my phone back in my pocket when my foot catches on a crack in the concrete. I throw my arms up in front of me, hoping to catch myself before my face can kiss pavement. There's a flash of black and blue, and suddenly I'm not falling anymore. I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around me and look up to see Sherlock staring down at me. I flush in embarrassment.
"Sorry," I mutter, pulling myself from his arms and taking a step back. "I wasn't paying attention." Sherlock frowns, remaining silent. My phone beeps twice and I read the reply from Audrey.
Voldemort? Just kidding. I know who you're talking about. Have fun! –AW
I chuckle as I start walking again before scrolling down to Molly's reply. I hear Sherlock following behind me.
Go get him! ;) –MH
I groan as we walk into the building and slide my phone back into my pocket. I see Sherlock watching me and I shake my head.
"And what's the name?" I hear someone ask as we approach the Box Office. Sherlock stops at a corner in the hallway, gesturing for me to stay back.
"Er, Holmes," I hear John answer. I glance at Sherlock to see him smirking.
"You convinced him to let you order the tickets?" I ask, projecting. His eyes widen as he nods.
"That's going to take some getting used to," he projects back. I chuckle.
"Tell me about it. The first time I heard someone's thoughts, it was really confusing. I was answering unspoken questions. Took me some time to figure it out."
"Actually, I have four in that name," I hear Box Office guy say.
"No, I don't think so," John responds. "We only booked two." Sherlock steps around the corner and I follow.
"And then I phoned back and got tickets for Kat and myself as well," he says. I cross my arms in front of me and roll my eyes at him, then send an apologetic glance at John. Sherlock offers Sarah his hand. "I'm Sherlock." Sarah glances at John for a moment before turning back to Sherlock and shaking his hand. John turns away in exasperation.
"Er, hi," she says.
"Hello," Sherlock responds, giving her his fake smile. He then turns and walks away, heading up a nearby set of stairs. I shake my head.
"Sorry," I say, unfolding my arms and stepping up to offer Sarah my hand. "He's a character." Sarah takes my hand and I smile warmly. "I'm Kat."
"Are you his date?" Sarah asks. I laugh and shake my head.
"Nah, I'm mostly here to make sure he behaves," I respond. Sarah nods.
"Speaking of behaving," John says. "I should probably go make sure he doesn't insult anyone important." I nod and he heads up the stairs after Sherlock.
"Must be a lot of work," Sarah says. I shake my head and glance at John's retreating figure before answering.
"I've been told I'm the only one he'll listen to," I respond.
"Well, he obviously likes you," she says. I chuckle again.
"I'm not so sure."
"You'll see," she replies. "Men have a funny way of admitting emotional things. Sherlock's is probably even worse, from what I've heard about him." I laugh again.
"Come on, we probably shouldn't keep them waiting," I say, and Sarah nods. We start heading up the stairs after the boys. We're about to turn around the corner when John's voice reaches us.
"While I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" he exclaims. We turn the corner and I smirk at Sherlock before turning to Sarah.
"Is that what you were talking about?" I ask. She chuckles and blushes slightly as John turns to look at us.
"He-y," he says, smiling awkwardly. I chuckle as I pass him and catch up to Sherlock, who rolls his eyes and continues up the stairs.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" I ask. He smirks at me.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he responds. I roll my eyes at him as we walk into a large room. There's a stage in the back with the curtains pulled closed. In the middle of the room are candles that have been laid out in a large circle. The room is dimly lit. I glance at the stage in the back.
"Try back there," I project. He looks at me and then looks at the stage before nodding. Sherlock and I stand to the side and wait for John and Sarah to join us. The reach us and stand slightly in front.
"You said circus," John whispers over his shoulder at Sherlock. "This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is…." He pauses before grimacing. "Art." Sherlock rolls his eyes.
"This is not their day job," he whispers back, still looking at the stage.
"No, sorry, I forgot," John responds. "They're not a circus: They're a gang of international smugglers." I chuckle as the tapping of a drum starts. Sherlock turns to look at the center of the room like everybody else. John looks over his shoulder at Sherlock, who quirks an eyebrow at him. A Chinese woman in an ornate costume walks into the center of the circle and looks out at the audience before raising her hand in the air. Her eyes rest on me. I feel a chill go up my spine and I shiver. Sherlock glances at me from the corner of his eye. The drumming quickens and then stops. The Chinese woman walks across the circle to a large object covered with a cloth. She pulls the cloth back to reveal an ancient-looking crossbow on a stand. She then picks up a long, thick wooden arrow with white feathers at one end and a vicious metal point at the other and shows it to the audience before fitting it into place in the crossbow. Straightening up, she pulls a single small white feather from her headdress and again shows it to us. On the rear of the crossbow is a small, metal cup. The Chinese woman gently drops the feather into it. Instantly the arrow releases and whizzes across the room and into the wooden board on the other side of the room. My head whips around to follow its flight. I hear John and Sarah gasp and look at them just as they turn to look at the arrow. Sarah turns to John and laughs, dramatically putting her hand over her heart. Instrumental music starts to play. The audience applauds as a man wearing chainmail and an ornate head mask enters the circle. I cross my arms in front of me. He holds his arms out to the sides and two men come over and start to attach heavy chains and straps to him, strapping his now-folded arms in front of him and then back him up against the board and start chaining him to it.
"Classic Chinese escapology act," Sherlock says softly. John and Sarah turn to look at him.
"Hmm?" John hums.
"The crossbow's on a delicate string," Sherlock responds. "The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."
The Chinese woman loads another arrow into the crossbow. The two men attach more padlocks and chains. One of them pulls a chain tight, yanking the warrior's head back against the board. The warrior cries out. The men loop the chains through solid rings attached to the board and secure the warrior, who cries out again. Once they finish they step back. The music builds and some cymbals crash unexpectedly. Sarah jumps, clutching at John's arm with her left hand. I chuckle.
"Oh, God!" she says. "I'm sorry!" She laughs in embarrassment, taking his arm with her other hand as well. John laughs with her. She lets go of his arm with her right hand, but continues to hold onto his arm with her left.
"Drama queen," I hear in my head. I glance up at Sherlock and smirk.
"Oh, because you're one to talk." I feel Sherlock glaring at me as the Chinese woman picks up a small knife and displays it to us.
"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out," Sherlock says softly. "Gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." The Chinese woman does exactly what Sherlock says she would. She reaches up to a small sandbag hanging on a long cable and stabs the knife into the bottom of it. Sand begins to pour out. The warrior repeatedly cries out with effort as he tugs at his chains. I feel my heart start to race as the weight lowers. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to see if he'll make it. I smile as the answer comes to me, and my heart rate slows a little. The warrior cries out again. Just as the weight is a foot from the bowl, I turn to see Sherlock heading toward the stage.
"Sneaking off?" I ask. He stiffens mid-stride. "Just be careful." He nods once before continuing. I turn back to the show to see the arrow fly. With a split second to spare, the warrior pulls free of the chains and ducks down. The arrow thuds into the board just above him. The warrior cries out triumphantly as everybody claps. Sarah gasps in relief.
"Thank God," she says.
"My God!" John agrees. The warrior stands up and takes the applause. John turns to look over his shoulder while he's clapping. He turns fully when he doesn't find Sherlock. He turns to me and raises his eyebrows. I smile and shrug. John gives me a stern look before turning back to the center of the room. The Chinese woman raises her hand up again to stop the applause.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she says. I feel another chill. "From the distant, moonlit shores of the Yangtze River, we present for you pleasure: The deadly Chinese bird-spider." As she walks away, a masked acrobat descends from the ceiling, rolling through the air as the broad, red band wrapped around his waist unravels. The audience applauds and he stops a couple of feet above the ground, holding his body parallel to the floor.
"Did you see that?!" John asks in astonishment, leaning over to Sarah. As the acrobat continues his performance, I focus on the stage area.
"The Chinese woman is headed your way," I project to Sherlock. "And the acrobat out here is Soo Lin's brother." I glance over at the stage to see Sherlock glancing out the curtains.
"How can you tell?" he asks.
"He feels the same," I respond. I see him move quickly and I know he's hiding from the Chinese woman. "Oh, and you'll find a bag at your feet. Check it out." I turn to look at the acrobat.
"Found the spray paint," Sherlock responds. "And the warrior from earlier." I turn to the stage again and see the curtain billow. I sigh as John turns to look and frowns. He then turns back to the center of the room as the acrobat performs a complicated stunt. The curtains billow even more. A few moments later, Sherlock flies backwards through the curtains and off the stage. He crashes onto his back, and I can tell he's had the wind knocked out of him. The warrior flies out of the curtains after him and lands on the floor in front of him. John runs toward the fight as the warrior raises his knife. John runs straight into him, pushing him back against the edge of the stage, but the warrior kicks John, sending him stumbling across the room. Sarah shouts for people to leave, taking control of the fleeing crowd. I push my way through frightened people and make my way to the wooden board, pulling the arrow from it. I run across the room just as the warrior stalks toward Sherlock, who is still lying on the floor, winded. Just as the warrior raises a wide-bladed sword—where did he get that from?—I slam the arrow over the top of his head. He cries out in pain, and before he can react, I swing the arrow sideways and smash it across his ribs. I continue like that until he falls to the ground. I straighten up, slightly breathless, as Sherlock sits up and leans forward to the warrior's right foot, pulling his shoe off to reveal a Tong tattoo on his heel. John turns around, though he's almost doubled over in pain, and heads toward Sarah, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the exit. Sherlock scrambles to his feet as I pull my phone out and snap a picture of the warrior and the tattoo on his foot.
"Come on!" John shouts almost voicelessly. Sherlock grabs my hand and we race towards them.
"Come on! Let's go!" he shouts. We make our way outside and down the street.
"That's the second time I've had to beat someone away from you," I comment to Sherlock. He smiles before reaching into his coat and pulling out his phone, calling Dimmock. I glance over to see John hunched over. I start to head towards him before I notice that Sherlock still has a tight hold on my hand. I'm glad my face is red from running. I tug my hand slightly.
"You can let go at any time, Sherlock," I project. He glances down at our hands before pulling his away from mine. I glance up at him to see his face just a bit pinker than before. I smile and turn to John and Sarah.
"Definitely some bruising," Sarah says as I walk up. "You're gonna be sore for a few days."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," I state. Sarah looks at me in confusion.
"What?" She asks. I ignore her.
"John, remember the other day at Soo Lin's flat?" I ask. I see him nod.
"Could you, please?" he asks. I nod and walk over to him. I place my hands on his back, close my eyes and focus. He hisses for a second as my hands warm. We stand like that for a couple minutes before I smile and pull my hands back.
"Better?" I ask as he straightens up. He takes in a deep breath.
"Much," he answers, smiling. Sarah looks between us, confused.
"What was that?" she asks. I chuckle apprehensively.
"That was Psychokinesis on a living target," I respond. "I'm psychic, and one of the things I can do is healing people." She tilts her head at me before nodding.
"Alright," she says. John looks at her.
"Alright?" he asks. She nods, smiling.
"Yeah, alright," she answers. "I had an aunt that could do the same thing, only much more slowly." She pauses. "She's the reason I became a doctor." I smile.
"I'm glad you accept it," I respond. "Most people are skeptical. Some people get cruel about it."
"They usually do when something doesn't hold to their ideals," Sarah replies.
"We need to get to the Yard," Sherlock says, interrupting. The three of us turn to look at him. "They're sending people out to check." I nod and start walking towards the main street.
"Come on, then," I call. "We don't have all night." I hail a taxi when I reach the street. The four of us pile in before I tell the cabbie where to go. Sarah and I talk about her aunt and my abilities on the ride there.
"So, you've got PKLT," she says. "What else can you do?" I shrug my shoulders.
"Oh, not much," I respond. I see John grinning from his seat. "I've got post-cognition, pre-cognition, psychometry, Psychokinesis—all three forms—and telepathy." Sarah's eyes widen.
"Really? All that?" she asks. I nod. I glance out the window to see the cab stop in front of the NSY building. The four of us get out and I pay the cabbie. We head into the building and ask the receptionist to let Dimmock know we're here. She calls him and lets us know he's on his way. A minute later the elevator dings and we look to see Dimmock beckoning us. We step into the elevator and stand in silence on the way up. The elevator dings again, letting us know we're on the right floor, and we follow Dimmock out. He's clearly not in a good mood.
"Hall was probably deserted," I say to Sherlock. He nods.
"I sent a couple of cars," Dimmock says. "The old hall is totally deserted." I frown.
"Look, I saw the mark at the circus—the tattoo that we saw on the two bodies: The mark of the Tong." Dimmock reaches his desk and turns to face us.
"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation," John adds. "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," I finish.
"Get what back?" Dimmock asks. Sherlock bites his lip, looking away in frustration.
"We don't know," John answers hesitantly.
"You don't know," Dimmock repeats.
"I think it's a piece of jewelry," I say, startling everyone. "Not something extravagant, just something small. I don't even think the thief realized how valuable it was." Sherlock nods, smiling slightly. Dimmock sighs.
"Mr. Holmes," he says, sitting down. "I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something." Sherlock looks up with a faint but proud smile. "And Kat has asked me to trust you, said you know what you're doing." He looks at me in surprise. I shrug. "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." Sherlock looks down again and starts to leave. I pull my phone out.
"I have a picture of one of the performer's Tong tattoo," I announce. I pull the picture up on my phone and hand it to Dimmock. "I'm not sure this will be enough, but it will be something." He nods, looking at the picture.
"This is proof that they were there. That's all my bosses need, really," he says. He looks up at me. "I'll have to keep this as evidence, you know." I nod, smiling.
"Yeah, I know," I respond. "Just let me know when I can have it back." He nods.
"Will do." The four of us leave.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
We get back to 221B where Sherlock leads John, Sarah and I into the living room. Sherlock takes his coat off and heads over to the fireplace.
"They'll be back in China by tomorrow," John comments.
"No," I respond, shaking my head. "They won't leave without what they came for. We need to find their hide-out; the rendezvous." Sherlock walks closer to the photos, staring at them intently. John looks at the pictures, too, while Sarah stands nearby, forgotten by the two men. Sherlock runs his fingers over the main picture of the painted brick wall.
"Somewhere in this message," he mutters. "It must tell us." Sarah looks between the two men before seeming to realize something.
"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it," she says. John and Sherlock start speaking simultaneously: John letting her stay while Sherlock tries to get her to leave. I laugh as John glares at Sherlock.
"Please, stay if you'd like," I say. Sherlock glares at me before turning back to the photographs. Sarah smiles awkwardly.
"Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?" she asks.
"Oh, God," Sherlock groans.
"Sherlock," I call sweetly. He turns to look at me. "Be nice." He glowers at me. "Please?" He sighs and turns to the dining table, sitting down and rummaging through the photographs on the table. John heads to the kitchen while Sarah and I make small talk.
"Hold on a sec," I say, turning to run up the stairs to grab some food. I grab a carton of punch from my fridge, put some crisps into a bowl, and some dip into another. I carry these down the stairs carefully and walk in through the kitchen. "John, help me with these, would you?" He turns to look up at me and grins. He walks over to help me. "I've got punch, crisps and dip."
"You're a saint, Kat!" he exclaims softly. I shake my head at him.
"I don't know that I'd trust anything from this kitchen," I respond. "You never know what that man's been doing in here." John laughs.
"John, Kat," Sherlock calls from the living room.
"Hmm?" John hums as we turn towards Sherlock.
"Come, look at this," he says. He takes the photo out of the evidence bag as John and I walk out of the kitchen. "Soo Lin at the museum—she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!" He glares at me. "Why didn't you tell us?" I shrug my shoulders.
"Too busy trying to stop her brother from killing her, I guess," I answer, irritated. He frowns, and then inspects the photo closely to read Soo Lin's writing. "'Nine', 'Mill'."
"Does that mean 'millions'?" John asks.
"Nine million quid," Sherlock says thoughtfully. "For what?" He turns to grab his scarf and coat. "We need to know the end of this sentence."
"Where are you going?" John asks.
"To the museum; to the restoration room," Sherlock answers before grimacing. "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"
"At-at what?" John asks.
"The book, John," Sherlock respond. "The book—the key to cracking the cipher!" He brandishes the photo at John. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk." He turns quickly and hurries out the door. I turn to Sarah, who's looking at the door in shock.
"Yeah, he's pretty much always like that," I say. She looks at me and starts laughing.
"Looks like a quiet night in, then," John says, moving to sit in the kitchen.
"Yeah!" Sarah responds, following John. "No, absolutely. I mean, well, a quiet night in's just-just what the doctor ordered." John laughs quietly. "Er, I mean, I'd love to go out of an evening and wrestle a few Chinese gangsters, you know, generally, but a girl can get too much." John giggles.
"Tell me about it," I respond, laughing. "And if it's not Chinese gangsters, it's something else." The three of us calm down.
"Hmm," John hums. "Um, shall we get a takeaway?" I nod.
"Yeah!" Sarah replies. John nods and gets up to find a menu.
"Third drawer from the fridge," I say. John looks up at me before checking the drawer. He pulls a menu out. I check my nails nonchalantly before looking up at them and grinning.
"Can I call you every time I lose my car keys?" Sarah asks as John calls the number on the paper. I laugh. "No, seriously." I shrug my shoulders at her.
"For a fee, maybe," I respond jokingly. She chuckles. "There is something you could try first, though. And if that doesn't work right away, then you could call me." She nods and I start explaining this simple incantation for finding lost objects. A few minutes later, someone knocks on the front door downstairs.
"Ooh, blimey, that was quick," John says.
"I've got it," I call, heading down the stairs. I hear John and Sarah mention trays and chuckle. I open the front door and glance at the Chinese man outside. He's wearing a jacket with the hood pulled up. "Sorry to keep you. How much is it?" I start to pull out my wallet.
"Do you have it?" he asks. I look up at him and realize that not only does he not have our food, but he feels the same as Soo Lin's brother. I feign ignorance.
"What?" I ask.
"Do you have the treasure?" he asks. I take a step back.
"I don't understand," I respond. I'm just about to close the door when his arm swings up. There's a flash of pain on the side of my head, and a fall over into darkness.