Author's Note: Might be a minor spoiler if you've been reading Black Butler but haven't finish the Circus Arc, or haven't watch the entire season one, yet. If you're not into Black Butler, no harm can be done.

Thanks again to Eiko-chan for beta-reading and commenting. I'm chuffed that you enjoy this. I hope I give you a satisfying Ciel!rant in this chapter. :D (We definitely need more of Ciel being his bratty self here.)

And thanks bby as well, I'll certainly write more even if Sebastian threatens me not to.

Part 8: The Young Master

The rain had stopped when Ciel walked out of 221B. The city was awfully wet, but people were already out and about as the sun started to shine through the cloud. The young man quickly hopped across the road and headed for the tube station. He didn't want to waste a minute in the precious fifteen he had, the way a young man who supposed to have a date would if he had just fifteen minutes to spare. But as he turned the corner, a black sedan caught his eye – too sleek to be owned by a common bloke, yet too plain to attract attention. But to the eyes that had beholden it once, it stood out in any busy street at any busy time.

Despite that, he continued on his path with constant pace, not sparing another glance at the car. However, he knew that it had moved to him from behind, and when he stopped, so did it. The driver came out and opened the door to the backseat for him. The young man climbed in quietly.

The door shut behind him and the car started to move again. The trap had closed and he was sitting in the middle of it like an insect in a Venus's Flytrap, but Ciel didn't care. He rested his chin on the back of his hand and stared out the window undisturbed. One must transcend emotion and situation; that was what the old man taught him. Only ones who could see clearly would win.

Thus he waited patiently, not anticipating or making suppositions, until the man on the other side of the seat started to speak, "I thought we have an agreement."

"I have honoured your request," he replied.

It was greeted sardonically, "By conversing with him in his flat?"

Ciel groaned. He answered, "If you know that much, you should already know that I have not uttered a word about who I really am."

"You are underestimating him," the other remarked.

But the young man begged to differ, "I presented to him the complete and consistent impression of myself. How many people would doubt a complete description and seek an over-completed one unless there is something to doubt? You know the man and his method better than me, Mycroft. And you know I haven't lied."

And indeed Mycroft knew. He only needed a glance at the young man to know that everything Ciel had presented neither pointed to his association with Mycroft or his actual profession. His clothing was chosen to blend him in to the crowd of university students with signs of wears and tears from actually wearing it to school for years. In actuality, Ciel didn't really need school; Mycroft could attest to that as he witnessed the boy passing grades after grades with ease. It was a formality and a necessity in order to appear 'normal'. His cover story for school absences was also true; Ciel indeed was a game consultant only that he mainly consulted for his own game company, the Funtom, as an executive creative director. The management was placed in capable hands that Ciel was rarely needed aside from occasional meetings to set the direction of the company. His most time-consuming job were neither being a student nor a game consultant but consulting for a completely different kind of crowd.

Mycroft still remembered the day he first set eyes upon the young man. He was merely a boy then, but something in him was different right from the start. There was neither a tinge of innocence in his eye nor a tad of fear as he stood in Mycroft's office and defied all odds of preventing him in. He was a sight to behold, a talent to be assessed and sharpened. But now when Mycroft looked at the fearless twenty-year-old next to him, he sometimes regretted not sending the boy away in the first place.

And Ciel always noticed those moments of recollection and regret. He harboured a hatred for it. "I'm not your brother, Mycroft," he whispered; "I don't need your protection, nor does he need one. This is my case, and this is my method. You can save yourself the worry and put more effort into managing the government. We can talk later if you want, but right now I have a rendezvous at Oxford Circus to keep if you don't mind."

Mycroft Holmes gave him a stern look for his tone but ordered his chauffeur to bring them to the intersection regardless. It wasn't very far off, and Ciel got off the car in time. Before he left, he bent down and whispered, "You need to trust people for once, Mycroft."

"Said my little demon," replied the elder Holmes, and the young man smirked.

"Well, aren't we all evil?" He shut the door, and walked off.

Not far from the dropping point, another car moved in as soon as the black one disappeared around the corner. Ciel stopped on his track and let it move to his side before slipping into it without a word.

"Seems like you just got a royal treatment," said the driver- Sebastian Michaelis.

Ciel huffed sardonically, "I'm honoured."

"Now, now," replied the man, "sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, remember?"

At this, Ciel rolled his eyes and relaxed into his seat. "Fine. Let's go home. And I want a cup of tea when we get back."

"Certainly. I just bought a great selection of cheese this morning. What tea would you like to go with it?"

"Darjeeling."

"Sugar?"

Ciel turned sharply at Sebastian who grinned widely as soon as he saw the young man's face turned red with embarrassment. "Shut up," he muttered. And Sebastian, like always, obeyed.

It took them a while to get through the traffic to their place in a different part of town. It was an old building in a rather quiet neighbourhood – much to Ciel's liking. He hated London for its crowd and would rather live without the fuzzy social creatures around if possible, but his jobs required his presence in the city. He was grateful that he had this fortress of brick walls to himself for those stressful times.

The guardian of the fortress – his landlord and godfather – greeted him at the back door where Sebastian parked his car. He was an elderly Japanese gentleman who was ever so polite in opening the door for them regardless of the hour. He didn't need to, of course, but it was his preference of seeing everyone that came and went from this building, a habit Ciel favoured.

"Evening, Tanaka-san," the young man replied as he slipped his jacket off and threw it on the banister before walking up the stairs without sparing the raggedy thing another glance. Tanaka sighed, and picked the jacket up.

"Any news today?" the elderly man asked fondly; "You were meant to meet one Sherlock Holmes, I believe."

"It was a successful attempt," the young man answered with something akin to a smile; "Is everyone here yet?"

"Yes."

"That's good. Thank you. I'll be upstairs," said Ciel as he moved swiftly to his flat. His flat – oh, how the pronoun could be so misleading. He never felt like he owned the flat since it served as a common room for his colleagues as well. Two of them were waiting for him in his sitting room when he arrived: a fellow some years older than him, and a girl of the same age. They were both quite discomposed as per usual.

"Evening, Ciel," said the man. His blue eyes shone brightly behind the glasses, and he grinned widely. It made him looked stupid and harmless and annoyingly cheerful. Of course, looks could deceive, but unfortunately the annoyingly cheerful part was the absolute and honest truth.

"Evening, Finny, Maylene," he greeted whilst sitting down on his chair or, as Sebastian called it with good humour, the Throne. It indeed looked like one with its majestic design, gargantuan size, and shiny leather. Although he never laid a solitary claim on the thing, no one dared sit on it. The only time anyone touched it was when Maylene waxed it up.

Like a king waiting for his court to assemble, he looked around the room and spotted something unusual. "Where is Bard?" he asked.

The two of them looked at each other and their expression sank a little. "Well," started the girl sheepishly, "he's… down in the basement. He'll be up here soon."

"He still feels a bit down about messing up the bomb," Finny expanded and Ciel rolled his eyes.

"It's already been a week," Ciel muttered, annoyed.

"He's getting better," said Maylene; "You have to understand him. You were probably an hour short of getting face to face with James Moriarty, and he ruined it. You know he takes his duty very seriously."

"Then he might as well take his time and figure the bomb out," Ciel muttered angrily and both Finny and Maylene shut their mouths quickly. Although Ciel liked being authoritative, he found constant submissiveness towards him irritating at times. He got up from his chair, marched to the door, and shouted,

"Tanaka-san, tell Bard to come here immediately." Then he walked to his seat and skimmed through the newspaper just to get his mind off frustration.

The only person who seemed to find this stressful situation amusing was Sebastian. He came from the kitchen with a pleasant grin on his face and a tray of tea, cheese, and cracker to enjoy during the meeting. He muttered "Poor Baldroy" quietly as he bent down to place the tray on the coffee table, and Ciel glared at him from over the paper in return.

It took less than five minutes for Baldroy to show up. His tall muscular figure seemed to shrink a little as he entered, but he still walked like a soldier – a legacy of his military career. If there was anything not soldierly about him was how he flopped unceremoniously on an empty space on the couch and lit a cigarette without once looking Ciel in the eye. Baldroy rarely ever listened to anyone but his own instinct anyway, and Ciel didn't particularly care. It was that instinct that led this man to his pack in the first place, although it fell short of expectation each time it was put to anything but the battle.

Still, Tanaka seemed to have high hopes for Bard. Ciel didn't really understand the motivation. He just knew that Bard was reliable for a good set of tasks and that was enough. However, he never doubted the old man; no one in a good mind doubted Tanaka, not even Mycroft Holmes.

The old man came in last and sat down with a large folder on his lap. He gave Ciel a sharp nod as if to bow to the young man. And Ciel cleared his throat and turned to Baldroy. "What were you doing in the basement?" he asked.

The man's breath hitched a little as he pulled the cigarette from his lips. "Testing the equipment," he replied.

Ciel's brows furrowed. "I thought you have done a thorough investigation on that modified AK-47 already."

"Yeah, just…" The man took another drag. He didn't found the strength to finish.

Ciel sighed. He barked sharply, "You know I hate wasting bullets. Quit brooding already. We had no casualties. I told you that was a result on its own."

Bard cleared his throat nervously as he sat up straight, and Ciel sighed again before he turned to the old man. "Tanaka-san, do we have anything on the Mastermind?" he asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid," replied the old man with a warm grin as he stopped at a page in the folder; "James Moriarty, born in Sussex, understandably goes by various other pseudonyms. Went to same school as the unfortunate Carl Powers who was apparently his first victim. No official criminal records. No signs of violence or abuse in his immediate family. He seems, at first glance, an average person."

"Personal history?" the young man asked.

"Born to a single mother who was estranged from her parents a few years before his birth. Nothing of particularly interest showed up in the record of the neighbourhood during their stay. They moved to London after he finished junior-high and the death of the unfortunate boy. Apparently, he got himself into a prestigious school that his mother wasn't able to afford, so he dropped out and entered a small school not far from the first. He was able to get into a university with exceptional score in mathematics and graduated with a degree in computer engineering. He seems to be employed on and off mostly as a freelancer and pays his taxes regularly. No sign of foul-play," the old man added.

"Has his mother always been single?" asked Ciel.

"Apparently, she had been in relationships, but all ended rather abruptly. There was a particularly serious one before she died," answered Tanaka.

"I see," the young man muttered as he poured himself a cup of tea, obviously using the time to contemplate the information before he looked up and set the tea cup and the saucer on his lap. "With a background in mathematics and computer engineering, he is most likely a talented hacker among other things." He shifted his gaze briefly to Finny, who swallowed hard. "You better upgrade the security on our communication systems just to be safe."

"Yes, sir," Finny replied, but Ciel's mind was already elsewhere.

"I don't suppose you got the name of his latest employer since St. Bart's, do you?" he asked Tanaka. The old man shook his head.

"Disappeared, you might say," Tanaka replied.

"Still too injured to move around without being suspicious, then. It must have been boring for him," Ciel paused, "Then he must have arranged this current game with someone's help. Any name showed up?"

"No, unfortunately. The man's shadow is even harder to grasp than the man himself, " said Tanaka with a sigh. "We've tried tracking down leads in each case we know for that." He, then, flipped to another page in the folder and cleared his throat before he continued.

"I've looked into the assassin that was sent for Miss Hooper. He was a military personnel trained in the US army and invalided from Afghanistan just after the first phase of operation. Mental instability, they say, being reported with several serious misbehaviours. He seemed normal before the military, but ended up a completely different person after the war. He had a large track record of crime in the US after he was invalid but mostly minor charges. No particular name showed up among his recent acquaintances that might be the connection."

"Probably missed the battlefield too much," Ciel muttered to himself, "When did he come into contact with Moriarty?"

"Most likely around four years ago," replied Sebastian, "That was when the record thinned. He came to England last year under a forged passport."

"But Aberline told us he left only one trace on this side of the Atlantic," remarked Ciel; "He was called here only recently. Moriarty has other men taking care of this area for him. Then why called this amateur in?"

"Because, he was an amateur perhaps," mused Sebastian out loud; "Because he would leave a trace."

Ciel's eyes widened, and Finny frowned. "Wait, I don't get it," the Finny interjected, "Are you saying that guy Moriarty really wanted to kill his girlfriend?"

"Obviously, Finny," said Ciel with a deep frown himself; "What did you think he was trying to do?"

"But she was his girlfriend!"

"That was an act. He just wanted to get to Sherlock Holmes."

"Like what you're doing now?"

That question sent the crowd into a formidable silence. Tanaka was stealing a glance over his glasses at Ciel's direction as Maylene and Bard looked away. Only Finny and Sebastian were looking directly at Ciel who was looking at no one.

"Yes, you might say so," replied Ciel, now looking straight at Finny. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Everyone knew it was a challenge, including the socially inept Finny, who simply shook his head as a reply. He whispered,

"It's just sad."

"Life is sad. You should be aware of that by now," replied Ciel apathetically as he set the teacup down. He lay back in his chair, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers together, "So Molly Hooper was meant to be a part of the game. That is what you were saying, right, Sebastian?"

"I would suppose so," replied the man. "It would also make his use of Golem logical. An assassin with too obvious a signature is usually a very bad choice unless you want someone to recognize his doing."

"As one consulting detective has."

Sebastian simply smiled.

At this, Ciel leaned forward to the coffee table and picked three pieces of different cheeses. He placed them on his saucer.

"Molly Hooper, John Watson, and Jane Jenkins – all of them are related to Sherlock Holmes. So he's not just challenging Sherlock Holmes's intellect. He's attacking his person directly via each connection – each piece of his heart – burning it out one by one. But not all pieces are equal; Moriarty has seen it firsthand when he was dating Molly Hooper."

He paused as his eyes focused and he picked up the middle piece, color darkened with age. He twisted it between his fingers as he spoke, "Then he saw that there is just one connection that truly worth something to Sherlock Holmes. And Sherlock realizes that. He tried to control the game by sending signals left and right that this is the only one that matters, trying to have Moriarty concentrate every attack to where he can see. But he said so himself that Moriarty is too clever to be fooled; that man already found Jane Jenkins. We need to find other pieces before Moriarty finds them."

"But how?" asked Finny as he looked around wide eyes. Baldroy simply sighed.

"Well, people usually make a lot of friends in college," said Bard as he lit another cigarette; "You know, there are group projects and such. You don't really go solo, not all the time. And people socialize a lot."

"Then we can ask Miss Jenkins," suggested Maylene; "Moriarty had spoken to her too, right?"

Ciel nodded, but Sebastian interjected, "I don't think Moriarty relies too much on her. We still need to cross-reference with other people who might know him, like the banker Sebastian Wilkins, but it will be a tricky interrogation."

"Or we can cross-reference with the man himself," said Ciel.

Sebastian grimaced at the idea, "It'll take too much time."

"Might worth a shot."

At this, Sebastian sighed, "Fine, but I'll go with Wilkins as well if you don't mind."

"Sebastian and Sebastian," Ciel smirked, "Of course, I wouldn't mind."

Sebastian rolled his eyes and sighed again. Sometimes Ciel's sense of amusement was beyond his understanding. He didn't understand the Sebastian-and-Sebastian thing that seemed to send Ciel on the verge of giggling, if the young man was still genuinely capable of doing so.

"I'll go to Miss Jenkins," said Maylene and they all turned to her in surprise. "Well, umm, I haven't helped out much yet, and I'm free, so…"

"Won't Miss Hopkins be upset if you are absent now, Maylene? She needs assistants for her new autumn collection, doesn't she?" asked Ciel.

At this Maylene smiled tiredly, "Well, she has a lot of models already. I'm not really needed."

"Being busty can be a bad thing, huh?" mused Bard, and Maylene glared dagger at him.

"That should do for Mr. Holmes, I suppose, but we still have Moriarty to worry about," said the old man as he turned another page in the folder. "We have the name of the manufacturer for the ammunition used in the kidnapping. It's illicit and made in Great Britain. We might be able to find something from that route."

"I'll take over," said Baldroy grinning; "Leave those bastards to me."

"Baldroy, language," warned Tanaka. The ex-soldier puffed a cloud of smoke in reply. The old man shook his head and returned to the conversation. By that time, Ciel was already deep in his own thought with his fingers laced in front of him under his chin. When he looked up again, his eyes glittered strangely as he stared at Maylene, who felt a flip of in her stomach.

"Maylene, you go to banker Wilkins. Finny, I want you on Ms. Jenkins. Bard, I'm counting on you on the arm trade. Sebastian, you'll stay here. We'll be dealing with more assassins. I can't risk you being out of reach for too long." The sudden change confused all but Sebastian and Tanaka who went from confused to amused in few seconds. Ciel didn't catch the fond look from the old man. He was explaining apologetically to Maylene, "I'm afraid your generous asset is needed there more than anywhere else."

She had told him once that a girl couldn't take too much. Well, it seemed there never was anything too much for Ciel. She smiled weakly and accepted her fate.

Sally knew it would take days to get her message going round in the office; she didn't expect it to take a week, though. Luckily nothing happened during that week, and she could afford some delay. After all, it wasn't the bloody bracelet she was actually after.

She got the message around that she lost a very valuable bracelet – not literally valuable, of course, but of sentimental value. She told people that it was her grandmother's. She couldn't afford to lose it, not for the world.

People had helped with all they could. They searched here and there or gave suggestions of where to look. Of course, she never found it in those places. She knew it was not there.

In the coffee room that day was when the news about the bracelet came to her. Aberline had found it, and he gave it to Emily, one of Sally's friends, to return it.

"Aberline, you say," she asked; "Where did he find it?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Emily; "Go ask the bloke yourself. He's in his office."

Sally nodded and rushed from the coffee room with the bracelet in her hand. She needed to talk to Aberline. She needed to confirm it.

The DI was indeed in his office looking agitated as he typed his email. The knock on his door set his body leaping off the chair. He closed the program, and swung around quickly. "Sally!" he sat back; "God, you scared me."

"Sorry," said Sergeant Donovan as she took liberty in stepping into the room; "I just want to say thank you for finding my bracelet. It was my grandma's favourite. I can't afford to lose it."

"What? Oh, yes. The bracelet," he muttered. He definitely looked worn out; "You're welcome, I guess."

Sally chuckled. "Well, you know, since you're the hero here, why don't we go out for dinner today. All on me," she said with a smile. But Aberline shook his head wildly.

"Sorry, Sally. Can't. Busy."

"Yeah, I can see that," she took the opportunity to look around the room. Some evidence boxes were on the other end of his table, but none of its content could be seen.

"Can you tell me where you found it? I really can't recall how I might have lost it."

"Oh. I found it in an evidence box. It probably had slipped off your wrist when you were putting things in," Aberline replied.

Sally mouthed an 'oh' and shrugged. "Well, I'll be careful next time. Lucky no one thought it was a piece of evidence."

"Yeah," Aberline replied, "I'll get back to work, if you'll excuse me."

"Sure," Sally said cheerfully. She strode to the door and paused. "By the way, my offer is still up."

Aberline turned to gave her a smile and thanks before she walked off, bracelet swinging in her hand. It wasn't actually from her grandmother, of course – the Freak would probably figure that out as soon as he saw it. Good thing Aberline was not that smart, or else she might never get to confirm that he was indeed the one assigned to Moriarty's case.

TBC.

Author's Note: There are quite a few minor characters from Black Butler popping up this chapter, namely Tanaka (no first name known, unfortunately), Maylene (more often refers to as Meirin), Finny, and Bard, also known as the Servants. Usually in the canon, they don't get involved in the actual cases at all. They are more like the backup team who only spring into action in case of emergency. But I love them too much to not write about them. Moreover, I do feel that the house of Phantomhive has always been a team, so I decide to up-play their role here a bit.

And I have Ciel call Tanaka 'Tanaka-san' to avoid having to make up his full name (which no one would recognize anyway) and also to express Ciel's respect for the old man and his homeland tradition. I hope this goes well with the context.