Disclaimer: None of the titles, trademarks, or characters (with the exception of OC's) are mine.
A/N – It has been a long, long time since my last update, and I want to apologize profusely.
I have been busy for the past four or five months since my last chapter. I mean busier than you could possibly believe, so just believe me when I say I have been busy.
Anyway, I'm back now, and I want to try and make up for my long absence. I was tempted to just let this fanfic go, but there's so much I've set up in earlier chapters that I want to see through to their conclusion. Also, our last chapter was the 13th. Although I'm not usually superstitious, it kind of made me uneasy to leave it at that.
This fanfic was only intended to run for a year, but this month would mark about the time a year ago that I began writing this. As I don't want to rush this fanfic to an ending when I think there's still potential in it, I am giving up attempting to write this fanfic somewhat in real time as I have been. Instead, the following is set in February, the month during all of which I intended to write the following chapter.
So, after my long absence, "The Mystery of the Dark Knight" continues with…
Sherlock Holmes & Bruce Wayne
in
"The Adventure of the Golden Fox"
February 7th, 1936.
Every time Bruce closed his eyes, he would see down the barrel of a gun. A shot would ring out, and then Jeph Horner, a mere boy, would be lying on the ground in front of Bruce, a pool of blood surrounding him. Bruce tried to shake away the image, tried to remind himself that he had been trying to save the boy's life. It wasn't Jeph he had killed. It was Kyle Kimmerick, a dangerous criminal, the man who had killed Jeph.
Shouldn't that thought comfort me? Bruce thought. Shouldn't I feel some kind of closure from avenging that boy?
But he didn't. For a brief second he would remember that the gun was aimed at Kimmerick, who was in turn aiming a gun at Jeph Horner. But then Kimmerick would disappear, and Bruce would see the gun aimed at Jeph, and then Jeph would die.
And then, still seeing down the barrel of a gun, Bruce would see the mangled bodies of his parents.
When Bruce's eyes snapped open, he saw Screamer's lustful eyes gazing back. They were definitely naughty. Screamer giggled softly and Bruce felt a touch against his ankle.
Bruce was dressed casually for what Holmes promised would be a restful meal at the Wiggins' household. Screamer seemed out of place, dressed more formally than Bruce had ever seen her before. Still, Screamer's outfit wasn't quite high-society. The ill-fitting black dress had a neckline that began too low and a hem that ended too high.
The touch moved up Bruce's leg and Bruce realized he was feeling Screamer's foot.
"Don't you agree, Wayne?" said Holmes.
Even Holmes was dressed more casually than usual, wearing a simple gold silk shirt and a pair of black trousers.
Bruce felt embarrassed, having tuned out the dinner conversation around him.
"Agree with what?"
"With Rudyard Kipling?" said Holmes.
"I certainly do," said Screamer, smiling flirtatiously at Bruce.
"What did he say?" Bruce asked.
"That the female of the species is deadlier than its mate," said Willy Wiggins.
Bruce just nodded and returned to his meal. Then he felt the touch on his thigh. He dropped his fork, which clattered loudly against his plate. Crrchrcknk! Bruce cringed as the others looked at him.
"I'd like to speak with you privately now, Wiggins," said Holmes. "As we discussed earlier."
"Of course," said Willy Wiggins, pushing his chair from the table and rising to his feet. "Screamer, you'll keep Mr. Wayne entertained, won't you?"
"I certainly hope so," said Screamer, smiling mischievously. Her eyes took on another level of naughtiness.
Screamer pushed back her chair as Sherlock Holmes and her older brother ascended the stairway. After the two men had vanished, Bruce rose from his. He and Screamer looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then Screamer crept towards Bruce.
Within inches of Bruce, Screamer's creeping turned into a run. She grabbed Bruce and shoved him forcefully into the nearest wall. Before Bruce could react, Screamer rose to her tiptoes and planted her lips against his.
Screamer held the kiss for a moment before releasing Bruce. Bruce looked at the lust in Screamer's eyes and then returned the kiss. He grasped her shoulder and massaged the soft flesh as she massaged his lips with hers.
Bruce squeezed harder on Screamer's shoulder as he tasted her tongue. Bruce stumbled back from the wall as the kiss and the embrace grew more passionate. He turned in the air and then fell towards the wall, running Screamer into it. The blonde girl removed her mouth from Bruce's and let out a high-pitched shriek. Then she giggled her girly, coquettish giggle once more.
"Oh, Bruce! Again! Again!"
She let out another high-pitched shriek.
So that's why they call her Screamer.
Her feet touched the floor again and her hands moved down his body, stopping at the button on his trousers.
Bruce's pants fell to his ankles as Holmes and Wiggins descended the stairway.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
February 9th.
Bruce made it a point of staying in his room with the door locked and avoiding Holmes for the next couple of days.
Bruce was feeling very unnerved this particular evening because it had been much too easy. Holmes hadn't once disturbed him during his past day of solitude. Bruce didn't know what kind of mind game Holmes might be trying to play. He slowly opened the door and then, after peering in both directions to make sure he was safe, he exited the room.
Holmes hadn't killed him yet. Bruce moved to the stairway and descended slowly. Still no sign of Holmes, but the hall reeked of tobacco.
Bruce continued to sneak down the hallway. He noticed the thick cloud of fresh tobacco smoke at the end of the hallway. He tiptoed to the corner of the doorway to Holmes' study.
"Don't just stand there, Wayne," said Holmes' voice, carrying only a hint of agitation.
Bruce took a deep breath, and then he began to choke on the tobacco in the air. No longer able to enter with dignity, Bruce just entered the room spluttering.
"Your behavior at Wiggins' dinner party was quite unforgivable," said Holmes.
"I want to talk about that."
"But I'd rather not."
"That girl and I are both consenting adults. There was nothing wrong with what we were doing."
Holmes took another drag on the stem of his pipe and then slowly exhaled.
"I don't know what kind of behavior is acceptable in the States," he said, "but it's simply not English to go throwing yourself upon a young woman."
Bruce seemed to remember the young woman being the one doing the initial throwing, but he felt it unwise to raise the point.
"Wiggins was quite upset with your assault upon his sister's virtue," Holmes said, "to say the least."
Bruce was tempted to call Screamer's virtue into question, but he resisted.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But…"
"No buts about it. I just hope this isn't a bridge you've completely burned. Anyway, I'm not interested in discussing your sexual escapades."
Holmes handed Bruce a stack of papers. Several similar stacks cluttered Holmes' desk. They were filled with charts, maps, blueprints, and newspaper articles.
"So this is what you had to talk to Wiggins about," said Bruce. "It's another case."
Holmes half-smiled.
"It's a veritable four-piper."
Bruce began to skim through the papers in his hand.
"On February the 6th," began Holmes, extinguishing his pipe, "while you were visiting your actress, our old friend Prof. Davenport paid us a call."
Bruce's face twisted in disgust as he remembered his previous experience with Professor Andrew Davenport.
"Prof. Davenport informed me that the British Empire was once more in need of my service," continued Holmes. "Have you ever heard of Fort Kane?"
"No."
"Neither had I. Apparently, we weren't supposed to. Fort Kane is evidentially a top secret naval base, the location of which is supposed to be highly classified. Fort Kane is overseen by Lord Edward Porter. One week ago, it was infiltrated and a set of blueprints was stolen."
"What were the blueprints for?"
"You remember how Prof. Davenport is. He refused to say what the blueprints were for, or to give me the location of Fort Kane."
"Any suspects in the robbery?"
"One." Holmes paused to relight his pipe. "The Golden Fox. The guards swear they were both knocked unconscious, bound, and gagged by a very nubile young woman in a fox costume."
"They're certain it was a woman?"
"They all swear heartily to it."
"I don't like Davenport."
"Neither do I," admitted Holmes. "Which is why I raised more conditions to undertake this 'fox hunt.' Firstly, Davenport supplied a retainer in money, not artwork. Secondly, we are to receive final payment in gold."
"And thirdly?"
"If in the end Davenport should choose not to pay us, we'll simply throw his fox back."
Bruce studied the papers in his hands again.
"If Davenport wouldn't give you the location of this secret fort, how did you get these blueprints?"
"They're not to Fort Kane. These are blueprints to the other location at which the Golden Fox has supposedly struck. Wiggins' agency had been contacted by one of the dockside warehouses that had been hit before Prof. Davenport's visit. He was all too happy to provide me with his previous research."
"So how do we go about finding this Golden Fox?"
"There's the four pipe question." Holmes' smile fully expanded."Have you ever been pub hopping?"
Bruce shook his head.
"Then have your appetite ready tomorrow evening, my boy!"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
February 10th. 11:00 P.M.
Bruce looked at the clock by his bedside, the one that Jamie Watson had given him for Christmas, and was upset. Holmes had tampered with it again. Bruce groaned and reset the hands to where he wanted them.
Holmes entered the room, and if Bruce hadn't been so used to the face, he would have been startled. A roguish black goatee, similar to one Bruce and Holmes had encountered on an earlier case, surrounded Holmes' lips. A deep scar lined Holmes' left cheek. A patch covered the opposite eye. Holmes' clothes were a drab, navy blue affair that reeked of cigarette smoke and gin. A black cap pushed low down on his head completely concealed his snowy gray hair.
Holmes tossed a slightly similar outfit onto Bruce's mattress and then stepped over to Bruce's clock and reset the hands.
"I wish you'd take better care of your gift from Dr. Watson," said Holmes. "It never tells the correct time."
Bruce tried to hide his look of contempt.
"What exactly are we doing tonight?" he asked.
"I've selected the nearest pub to each of the locations the Golden Fox has struck at. By all accounts, the Golden Fox is a showy, boastful character. It's a long shot, I know, but I'm sure the Golden Fox couldn't resist making a public appearance before or after a heist, and the public house patrons would certainly remember such a personality. We'll simply ask if anyone remembers suspicious persons or events on the nights of each crime."
Holmes' voice dropped into a thick cockney accent.
"Nahw get y'r'se'f dressed so we's can get goin', matey."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
11:56 P.M.
Bouncing from public house to public house, Bruce had more than his fill of bangers and mash, fish and chips, and kidney pudding.
"A pint of Guiness for m' and m' mate 'ere," Holmes told the publican. He removed an unlit match from his pocket and clenched the end opposite the head between his teeth.
"Ain't seen you 'round these parts e'fore," said the publican. "What be your name, mate?"
"Malone," Holmes answered. "Mitchel Malone, but m' mates refer to me as by 'Matches.'"
"Two pints comin' right up for Matches Malone and his mate!"
There was a cltrrhp, cltrrhp-p as the public placed to tall mugs of beer on the bar in front of Bruce and Holmes. Bruce drained his greedily as Holmes slowly sipped on his.
"M' mate an' I are in port looking for some interestin' ladies," said Holmes. "Know as where we might find one or two?"
"If it be interestin' ladies you're lookin' for," said the publican, "then one can't beats that li'l thing o'er there."
And the publican pointed to a head of long, curly, reddish-brown hair. Bruce heard Holmes gasp. Then the woman turned around and Bruce gasped as well. He recognized the operatic soprano he had met several months earlier.
In a black dress very similar to the one Screamer had worn a few days earlier and some very artfully applied make-up, Irene Adler looked even younger and more voluptuous now than she had then.
Holmes rose from his bar stool, still holding his mug, and approached the astonishing soprano. Bruce left his emptied mug on the bar and followed.
"Enjoying the nightlife, Ms. Adler?" asked Holmes.
"Indubitably," said Irene Adler. "You don't look very happy to see me again, Sherlock."
"It's Matches Malone tonight."
"Of course. You're on a case."
"And what are you here for, Ms. Adler?"
"Younger men. I convince these strapping sailors that I'm a young girl and they buy me drinks."
Irene Adler looked at Bruce the way Screamer had over the dinner table.
"Speaking of such, I'll allow you to buy me one, Mr. Wayne."
She held out her arm and Bruce instinctively wound his around it. As Irene led him to a table, Bruce couldn't help feeling repulsed and attracted at the same time. He was slowly being seduced by a woman old enough to be his grandmother.
"One more thing, Ms. Adler," said Holmes. "Have you heard anything of this Golden Fox person? Supposedly quite an interesting figure."
"Indeed she is," said Irene. "Good night, Mr. Holmes."
Holmes stepped backwards, only to bump into an extremely muscular man standing behind him.
"I beg your pardon," Holmes said.
"Pardon not received," said the man, pulling back his already short sleeves to reveal more bulging muscles.
The man swung, but before his fist could connect Holmes' knuckles scraped his chin and sent him flying back into a billiard table.
Two men playing billiards, apparently friends of the man Holmes had just hit, helped the fallen man up and then glared at Holmes. They angrily stepped forward.
One of the men was brandishing a long cue. He aimed the end at Holmes' abdomen and charged. A golden pocket watch appeared from inside the pocket of Holmes' jacket. With a quick flick, Holmes launched the watch around the cue and then tugged at the chain. The cue flew through the air and ended up in Holmes' hands. Holmes ran forward, holding the cue parallel to the floor, horizontally in his hands, and rammed an end into both men's heads. The two men fell to the floor. One groaned and tried to get up. Holmes drove the dull end of the cue into the man's groin. The man grabbed his aching crotch and Holmes brought the end up into the man's chin, knocking the man back to the floor.
The two men groaned and crawled backwards on their hands. When they were what they judged to be a safe distance from the man holding the cue, they rose to their feet and ran through the exit.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
February 11th. 12:17 A.M.
After a couple more pubs, Holmes and Bruce found themselves back in Holmes' study. Bruce was massaging his temples to ward away a headache caused by a little too much beer.
"So, what exactly have we accomplished?" Bruce asked.
"A little bit," said Holmes with a smile. "Supposing the theory is true that the culprit always returns to the scene of the crime."
"What's that mean?"
"We encountered Irene Adler in the vicinity of one of the Golden Fox's crimes," said Holmes. "We also encountered Irene Adler at a reception at which Lord Edward Porter was present. Now a fort presided over by Lord Edward has been struck by the Golden Fox."
"You suspect Irene Adler?"
"Naturally. But there's nowhere near enough evidence to prove it. Now I'm going to have to do something I'd never thought I'd dread so much. I'm going to have to call William Wiggins."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
February 11th, 11:17 P.M.
As Willy Wiggins and Sherlock Holmes had made plans for the operation before Bruce Wayne and Screamer got hot and heavy, and since the operation was mutually beneficial for both detectives, Wiggins agreed to go through with the plan. Operatives from Wiggins' agency were stationed at as many warehouses, forts, and other pieces of government property as possible. Holmes had selected one to station himself and Bruce at, as well.
The idea was to try to anticipate the Golden Fox's next move and catch her, or him, in the act.
Holmes and Bruce, dressed once again in their disguises from the previous night, were concealed in pitch blackness, hiding in a corner away from where dim lamps illuminated the warehouse floor. Bruce was bored, yawning, and trying to sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes, Holmes elbowed him awake.
"Oh, c'mon!" he moaned loudly. "We're never going to…"
Holmes quickly hushed Bruce. His trained ears were detecting soft footsteps outside the warehouse. The footsteps were followed by two groans. The two dockworkers were being made unconscious! Then the footsteps continued.
Bruce was amazed by the beautiful figure that appeared beneath the dim lights. She was dressed in a very tight brownish-red outfit, displaying a breathtaking set of curves. She glided across the floor with a catlike grace and elegance. A flip of her head caused long, shimmering strands of brown hair to float through the air.
She held a gun aimed in Bruce's direction.
Before Bruce registered what was happening, Holmes was holding his cap in front of him, and two darts were protruding from it.
"Don't just gawk, Wayne!" said the master detective. "After her!"
Bruce jumped to his feet and ran into the light. The Golden Fox was already running back the way she had come, her shapely tail wagging from side to side, almost hypnotizing Bruce.
The Golden Fox's long legs took her almost to the exit before their strength seemed to expire. Her strides became smaller. Bruce didn't slow his, but kept galloping forward to catch up.
The Golden Fox turned around. An eye winked beneath the black mask, and then the Golden Fox puckered her lips in the air. Bruce stopped and watched in amazement.
Then the Golden Fox lashed forward with one of her long legs. Bruce jumped just in time to avoid being tripped up by a small crate the Golden Fox had sent sliding across the warehouse floor.
Bruce resumed his run, and the Golden Fox resumed hers. Bruce took a long leap in the air, hoping to tackle his prey to her feet. But he missed and went sprawling across the floor. When he looked up, the Golden Fox was aiming her dart gun at him. Bruce rolled out of the way and the dart struck beside his neck, so close he could feel the stiff feathers.
Bruce pushed himself up with the palm of his hands and then barreled forward towards the Golden Fox. She leapt backwards and to the left. Bruce took a step back, ran forward, and then leaped forward in her direction. He reached out his hand as he landed.
There was a tearing sound and Bruce found himself holding a scrap of brownish-red fabric. He looked into the Golden Fox's face. The face was obscured in darkness, but there was something familiar about it. Bruce grabbed for the mask, but the Golden Fox quickly turned her head.
"Ouch!" said a smooth, seductive, and feminine voice. Bruce was now holding a handful of brown hair. The Golden Fox leaped into the air again. She somersaulted in the air and landed on her feet, facing Bruce.
Then there was a loud crrkk and a black whip snapped in the air. The Golden Fox swung the whip again. This time, the end wrapped around Bruce's ankles and pulled them together. Bruce hit the soft ground hard.
Bruce stayed on the ground, waiting for the world to stop spinning and the ringing in his head to clear. When he sat up, stunned, the Golden Fox had disappeared.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
February 12th. 12:01 A.M.
Holmes held out one of his transparent plastic bags. Two tranquilizer darts were visible inside. Bruce could only guess that Holmes had removed the bag, removed the darts from the cap, and then sealed the darts inside the bag, all with painstaking care and attention, while Bruce was chasing after the Golden Fox.
"I'm going to study these more carefully at my lab," said Holmes. "We may be able to find a clue from the type of tranquilizer they were laced with. We may be able to find an antidote or a vaccine or an inoculation of some type. But I doubt it."
He held up two more transparent bags and studied them carefully.
"What is of more interest to me," he said, "are these samples which you have so skillfully collected."
"Is the hair Irene Adler's?"
"I could get a sample from her and try to match the DNA," said Holmes. "But based on appearance, I'd say these hairs are much too dark to come from Irene's head."
"I'd also say Irene is too old to move quite the way the Golden Fox did," commented Bruce.
"You may be right, but I still believe Irene knows more than she is telling. It would certainly be worthwhile for me to pay her a visit."
Holmes slowly unsealed the bag in which the piece of cloth from the Golden Fox's costume was kept.
"This will be the most useful to us," said Holmes. "But we will need the assistance of another detective."
"Willy Wiggins?"
"No," said Holmes slowly. "I am referring to the most dogged detective in all of England."
A/N – That's it for now, but the next installment in "The Adventure of the Golden Fox" will be coming soon.