Chapter four: Disguises and Unmasking

I wish that I could say we got far that night, but by the time Holmes had brought me up to date on what exactly we were doing and filled in the small details he had missed earlier while informing his brother, it was well past mid-night. Mycroft felt that we should lay low for the next day or so, to allow whoever didn't what Holmes on this case to think that he had given up. While the Holmes' brothers discussed that advantages and the disadvantages of this plan, my head ache had returned and I thought for sure that my head would burst. slouching down in my chair I was suddenly very tired. "Holmes." I called quietly. Holmes continued his discussion totally oblivious to my presents. "Holmes!" I said louder, drawing his attention and causing my ears to ring.

"What is it Mikael?" He asked exasperatedly. "I'm sorry Holmes, but I think that I need to go to bed. My head hurts so badly I can't see any more. I don't understand though, because it hasn't bothered me since I woke in your Bolt hole." Holmes features softened, "Your head hasn't bothered you because I put something in your eggs, thinking that it would be all that you would need. You must have hit your head harder that I thought."

As the help was already in bed, I was led upstairs by Mycroft, and brought a glass of something that I was told would help me sleep. I climbed into bed without ever removing my cloths and, thanks to Holmes' potion, slept deeply and dreamlessly.

It was late morning before I awoke and the sunlight streamed in through my bedroom window. Stretching out in the feather bed I felt the knot on the back of my head, noticing that the lump was beginning to shrink. I straitened out my clothing the best I could and headed down the stairs, pausing at the bottom when I heard my name mentioned. I first voice I heard was that of Mycroft Holmes, followed quickly and harshly by that of Sherlock.

"Are you sure that it is wise for you to have such a young girl following you about on your cases? I mean what if something were to go wrong?"

"Don't worry about Mikael, she can take care of herself. Besides she proved to be quite useful to me the other night."

"Good god Sherlock! You're not sleeping with her are you? Because to take advantage of one so young and innocent is a despicable thing to do."

Holmes snorted in response. "Innocent. Of all of the qualities that I have witnessed Mikael Garrison as possessing, innocence is definitely not one of them."

I heard Mycroft draw in his breath, "Sherlock...I"

Before he go any farther Holmes stopped him, "There is no need to berate me further. I have not slept with her or had any intentions of doing so. Although Mikael shows promise of being a bright girl, she is not the type that a man would ever willingly bring into his bed."

I stood riveted to my spot outside their door a wave of emotions swept over me. I was touched at the thought of Mycroft seaming want to protect me, even from his brother. Shocked at the rather careless way Holmes spoke of me, although I was relieved that he did not want to sleep with me, I was still furious at him. What was so terribly wrong with me that would make every man in the world abhor the idea of being with me. Unable to stand and do nothing I pushed open the doors and walked in as abruptly as possible. "Good morning gentlemen" I said

"Good morning Mikael, I take it you slept well." Holmes nodded in my direction.

A worried look spread across Mycroft's features and he turned several shades of red..

Holmes' expression didn't change. Mycroft just cleared his throat, "Let's have breakfast, shall we."

Breakfast seamed to lack that comfortable atmosphere we had shared at the close of the previous evening; even Holmes appeared to feel the difference. Mycroft retained his troubled expression, and I was too mad to even look at Holmes. After the meal things did not get any better for me. The suggestion was made that we all change and head out to clear our heads before deciding what to do next on our case. Going back to my room I remembered that I didn't have anything to change into; for even my trousers were back at the bolt hole. This was the last straw, for the morning at least. Sitting down at the window, I silently cursed everything that came to mind. There was a knock at my door. "Mikael are you ready?" It was Holmes. Still staring out the window I answered, "I'm not going with you."

"And why not?" he asked. And why won't he just go away, I thought. "Because I have nothing to wear, all my things are either in the bolt hole or at home." Holmes must have decided that this was enough for he suddenly threw open the door. "Mikael this is not the time to start acting like a prissy teenager." Turning around I saw that he was standing right outside my doorway. He had crossed the line with this bold move. I jumped from my seat and ran to were he stood. "Go to hell Holmes!" I yelled slamming the door in his face.

Not surprisingly the two men left with out me. Once I was sure that they were completely gone I took myself on a tour of the house. Walking through the corridors looking at paintings, and exploring the numerous books in the library calmed my nerves considerably. By the time they returned, we were all ready to once again focus on the case.

"Sherlock," started Mycroft, "let's go over all of it from the beginning now that our minds are clear and ready to solve this thing."

Holmes stood up and cleared his throat as if preparing for an act in a play. Scene one: "Two days ago on the afternoon of the 16th a Mrs. Reta Banks, married to one Shelton E. Banks owner of several affluent restaurants, showed up on my door step in much need of an detective.

She had returned from a shopping trip in France in the morning of the 15th. When she saw her husband for afternoon tea she asked him where their son Danston was. His answer was that he had been spending the last few nights at a friends house, a Gregory Tredwell. It apparently is not unusual for young Mr. Banks to disappear over at his friends house for long periods of time. However, this time was different. When Mr. and Mrs. Banks awoke on the morning of the 16th, they found this fastened to their front door." Holmes pulled a paper from off of the table and indicated to it with his left hand. The performance continued, "The note reads as follows:

You may have notice the absence of you son,

but not to worry for he is in safe hands.

However if the police are called

then my hands will not longer be safe.

If you wish to see him again alive

then I suggest that you bring £50,000

to the factory on Dover street.

Be there alone on the first or the boy dies.

There you have it. The boy was taken sometime between his leaving for his friends and the morning of the 16th. It is now the 18th and I have little to show for it." He paused deep in thought. Before he could start again though, I interrupted. "The Banks' are obviously being watched since they know that Holmes is on the case. They have already proven themselves shrewd and deadly with their attempt on Holmes' life. So now we have twelve days to find the boy without being seen. Not the most pleasant prospect."

"What about your visit to the pub? Did you glean any information from that excursion?" asked Mycroft.

"All that I managed to find out there is that none of the usual gangs are behind it"

Holmes was right, we had very little to show for almost two days on the job. "So where to now Holmes."

"I now will look into the smaller gangs, my dear Mikael." he said in a tone that left me feeling that for some reason I should have known what was to happen next. "Tonight I will visit a few of the other pubs around town, I have a few informants scattered throughout the town."

I noticed the singular expression he used and decided to correct it. "Don't you mean we will go around to the local pubs Holmes?"

Mycroft must have felt the friction suddenly surge though the air when Holmes and I locked gazes, for he found an invisible spot on his coat that consumed all of his attention. Holmes shot me a look that said he was going to put down his foot; he obviously still had this mornings outburst and door slam on his mind. "No, I did not mean 'we' Mikael, because Mycroft does not enjoy this sort of work and you are certainly not going." I rose to this challenge he laid in front of me. "I am going." I said, rising to my full five foot two and hoping that it made me look as inflexible as I felt.

It didn't work.

Holmes came and stood right up next to me, dwarfing my small frame, and looked strait down at me. The look in his eyes made my resolve slip momentarily. "You are not going." he repeated more firmly this time. "A pub is no place for a young lady and you have already spent all the time in one that you will be allowed to. A neighborhood bar is not safe for any seventeen year old girl."

"Then I wont be a girl." I hollered at him. I went up on my tip toes to get as high as possible.

He took a step back and I thought at first that he was thinking it over. "No." he said flatly. "You are not to come and that's final." He left no room for further discussion. I turned around and left the room. As I went through the door, I called back over my shoulder, "If you think that the other night was my first time in a pub Holmes, then you are sorely mistaken." I left the two gentlemen alone to ponder my last remarks.

I when upstairs to my room slamming to door behind me. I looked around for moment wondering where I could vent my rage, then walked calmly over to the bed, grabbed the pillow, held it up to my face and screamed loudly into it. The innocent pillow was next flung across the room at the window. That man had to be the most horrible man in all of London. He was nothing like his older brother; Mycroft was the epitome of gentlemanly behavior. I knew that I would never understand the difference between those two brothers. I decided that I didn't really care either since it made Mycroft that much more agreeable to be around. I thought that perhaps once I cooled down I would return to Bakers Street since it was obvious that Holmes was not going to let me do anything other than sit in his brother's house and think. At least Bakers street had cloths because my current position was beginning to make me feel like I was in prison.

Twenty minutes later I heard the front door close rather harder that usual, telling me that Holmes had left the house. Before I could get down stairs to apologize to Mycroft for my unlady like behavior I heard him too, walk out the door; I must add that his exit was considerably less harsh although just as hurried.

Having nothing else to do I once again wandered through the house. After begging a small snack from some woman in the kitchen, I collected a book entitled 'Poems from the Sixteenth Century.' Thinking that some romantic nonsense was exactly what I needed I curled up on a large soft chair in the library to relax.

I awoke two hours later to voices down the hall in the study. I found the Holmes' brothers in there discussing something that was abruptly halted upon my entrance. Mycroft addressed me, "Mikael I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of having Mrs. Hudson pack a few of you things for your stay here. The bag is up in your room." This was a happy surprise and I said just as much to Mycroft. He just smiled at me, and I felt my pulse quicken at the sight of it. I didn't really understand why it happened but it was not an unpleasant feeling.

I didn't really want to spend any unnecessary time stuck in a room with Holmes so I excused myself in went upstairs to change.

I wasn't very hungry when dinner when served and I just sort of picked at the food on my plate. Holmes glanced over at my still full plate and said, "If you want to join me in my interrogations this evening then you had better eat something."

My head snapped up after the words sunk in. "I get to go with?"

He answered without looking up from his plate, "That is what it sounded like I said isn't it? Your russack is by the front door."

I turned my attention to my food but was lacking a fork, I hadn't notice that I had dropped it on the floor when I looked up. Finding it, I wiped it off and began eating quickly. Mycroft was doing a bad job of hiding his amusement over the whole thing. I had a hunch that it was due to him that Holmes had changed his mind.

Holmes and I readied for the evening and set out for out first pub of the night. I never knew that questioning could be so hard. It took several different people before I could manage to ask more then two questions before losing their attention, and even then they were not to keen on answering the questions of what they thought was a scruffy young boy. In the end I had to resort to eavesdropping on what was said around me, without, of course, looking to interested in what was being said.

We spent over half the night questioning people and eavesdropping on conversations. If I got absolutely nowhere that night then Holmes wasn't very far ahead.

It was well after midnight when Holmes and I walked in the warm summer night through London back towards Mycroft's house. We must have looked quite a sight walking down the street together; one was a rather short street rat and the other a tall, ruff looking construction worker.

Thankfully we didn't pass any bobbies on their nightly patrol.

As we made our way down the street we talked in hushed tone over what we found out, or perhaps I should say what we didn't find out, during our night work.

I started the conversation.

"Well other then a few petty burglaries Holmes, I heard very little of what the local gangs have been up to lately. And the way they talked those up they would surely mention kidnapping a young boy and holding him for a £50,000 ransom." He nodded in agreement, "Most certainly. I discovered little more. The Westside gang is planning an attack on the southsiders on the 22nd, and other than that nothing worth mentioning."

We walked in silence for a few minutes. I knew that Holmes was thinking of what he would do next, so I didn't interrupt his concentration. Eventually I notice that he was looking out of the corner of his eye at me. I pretended that I didn't notice, though it was a bit unnerving.

"You did good work tonight." He said finally. The fact that he gave me an outright compliment threw me off. I started to wonder if he was feeling well.

"Thank you. Is everything all right?" I asked glancing over at him.

"As much as can be expected." We went a few more steps in silence. He spoke again, "Where did you learn to handle yourself like that? If I didn't know better I would have said you were just another gutter boy."

I shrugged, "Picked it up here and there." I tried to leave it at that but Holmes gave me a look that I figured he used on suspect that he wanted to talk. It made me feel like I needed to tell him more, "I spent the last few years hanging out with a group of boys that roved the streets. They thought it was neat that a girl wanted to join their band and become a boy. They were more than eager to teach me all they knew." Holmes had a pensive look on his face. I attempted to make a joke out of it. "If you ever need an experienced pick pocket I was Peter's best provider." I let out a pitiful laugh and Holmes just gave me a grave stare.

Then he asked the question that I had been hoping that he wouldn't ask, "What made you choose to rove the city streets instead of joining in the normal activities that young girls participate in?"

I sighed and answered. I figured that if Holmes was going to teach me he might as well now what he was working with. "When I was little my mom spoilt me but Dad let it be known that he wanted a son, which left me out of the picture. My parents tried to have another kid but it never happened. My mom died when I was seven and it left him devastated. He locked himself in his room and wouldn't come out. Everybody got real worried about him and I was pretty much on my own. I thought that maybe if I became a boy that I would be wanted, so enter Peter."

Holmes stopped walking and stared after my figure as I continued to move towards Mycroft's place. "Did It work?" he asked jogging back up to my side. I laughed to myself, "No. At some point down the line he realized that I was all he had left of my mother. He has spent the last few years trying to turn me back into a girl. That's why I'm here, he was hoping the Aunt Martha could civilize me." I pulled on my masculine clothes, "I guess it didn't work." We finished our walk without saying another word, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

A/N: Yay! Looky I found another chapter! With school out I can start writing on it again (at least until I get a job YUCK!) anywho I hope you enjoyed it so far.