Ehhh..not real happy with this chapter. But filler chapters like these need to happen. *sorry* I re-wrote it three-no-four times and this was the best version. Also, I have no idea how to play chess. If I need to make corrections PM me. Sorry, I'm great at checkers, but it wouldn't really have the same effect. This is officially pre-The Last Guardian. I would have to re-write it to make it canon, due to the fact Sherlock would be investigating for a very different reason if I included THG. BTW: best Butler quote from the last guardian.
"I am Butler. Everything I say sounds tough."
Anywaaay..the quote, and then we will begin!
"It's a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brain to crime it is the worst of all."
-The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
Butler walked in the room behind John and stood impassively by the door. John, in the same stiff manner put down his luggage slowly, using his peripheral vision to keep an eye on Butler. He knew that if any harm came to his infuriating charge and John was the cause, despite the fact they had served together, Butler would not hesitate to dispatch him.
When his bottom of his luggage touched the cream-colored carpet Butler spoke.
"It's been a while Captain." The rank slid off the giant man's tongue as if he used the rank a lot.
"Indeed." John said shortly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took stock of the room. Like the rest of the manor, it was spacious and tastefully designed. Carpets thrown here, a curtain here, and flowers arranged there. Yet despite the obvious talent of the decorator, the same wall that oozed money spoke volumes with their blankness. The room was devoid of feeling. It was like a sponge, and it was soaking the feeling that was his out of him.
"Never imagined we would follow similar paths."
John raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Despite the fact one of them worked as a bodyguard and the other was a partner in solving crimes, he knew what he meant. If it was possible to see into the future, he believed he had. An old soldier putting up with someone who left the rest of the world behind-and they were perfectly aware of the fact. John had always reigned in Sherlock, and Butler seemed to do the same to Artemis. Sherlock answered only to John, respected John's opinion in a way it was clear that only John's opinion mattered to him. Artemis was much the same. He couldn't see the young teenage genius answering to very many people.
Butler didn't have to answer. John's response was all in his body language. "John, you have to understand I do not want you here. Artemis enjoys playing with fire, and revels letting the flames lick at his feet."
John rolled his shoulders. "Don't remember you ever using metaphors." It was a lighthearted statement, but Butler knew that John understood what he meant.
Butler opened the door to let himself out. "Don't jump to conclusions. Artemis will bait Sherlock, but whatever it may come, don't mistake Artemis for a villain. "
John caught the door. "Don't mistake Sherlock for a hero. He may have chosen the right path to follow, but he didn't follow the right path for the right reasons."
Butler gently started to close the door. "Above all, until this is over, and those two are done amusing themselves, remember this: A hero is defined by the villain they fight, but they are held up by their sidekicks, and more importantly, their friends."
The door shut.
Artemis opened the door for Sherlock. "You will be staying here." He said in clipped tones.
Sherlock whirled around then looked directly at Artemis. "Sure I will not be taking up someone's room?"It was clear he wanted to put on a show.
Artemis spread his heads theatrically. "Astound me."
Sherlock grinned. "With pleasure. One side the bed is slightly more tucked in than the other. Someone slept here, but it was one person. Not a married person. The dust is slightly disturbed in the adjacent bathroom where" –he leaned in-"there are scorch marks on the hook. Hot things in the bathroom? Hair dryer. Men in general don't use hair dryers (At this Artemis looked a bit miffed)-it's a female. Short too." He whirled to where basic toiletries were normally kept. He grabbed the brush and deftly plucked a hair from it. "Red hair. Short hair. Female with short hair, so probably a crew cut. Everything is arranged in military rows. Why would a criminal house a military person? Not dirty, no. You were fine admitting someone had been in the room, saw no need to cover it up, so she is most likely in a high division and is willing to overlook your record if you act as consultant. They don't specialize in theft, then. Looking at the fact she has moved the rugs that are obviously expensive to do her exercises judging by the dents in the floor, she also likes you as a friend, so probably off the book visits too. There you have it. A short, redhaired government/army female friend who stops in from time to time, respects your abilities in order to get the job done. Am I wrong?"
Artemis didn't blink. "That's it?"
Sherlock was slightly thrown by the reaction but kept a poker face. "Well, if you want more….You have spent lots of time in Russia, voice patterns suggest someone who can speak Russian fluently. I'm guessing you speak Spanish, hmm..your fingers show you are ambidextrous, don't exercise much, you probably hack, you like chess, probably been trained in psychology. Speaking of which, you have suffered from a psychological illness, right? Your manners show no signs of a habit, showing you break habits early on, so your illness probably involved some sort of paranoia, you needed something you keep yourself rooted to reality. Child Genuis Symdrome? You are arrogant, yet every time you look toward your parents wing you look slightly guilty. Probably from keeping them out of the loop. You do dangerous things. Possibly with your government friend. What did I miss?"
Artemis finally grinned. "You missed a few things. A few crucial things, but that is besides the point. I doubt you will find much more."
Sherlock tilted his head. "You want to bet?"
"I'm already gambling with having you stay here. Chancing you will find out something more? Highly unlikely, It would make you more determined than ever. Why should I?"
"It might make things harder."
"Name your stakes."
With that statement, Sherlock could not help but feel that when he meant stakes, he meant the kind you plunge into vampires with. Artemis just had that impression on people.
"You strike me as the type to sacrifice you pawns in chess to save your queen. You have sacrificed information. The issue is, what do you expect to gain from me knowing this? You could have put me in any room."
"Some people never lose. Never lose their queen. Chess pieces are shaped like people because they act like people. Once their queen is gone, they scatter without a figure head to guide them. A chess master is someone who marshals the mindless and pulls victory from it. Look at history. You will find examples. After all, History repeats itself. People picking wins from a pile of leaderless pawns, captured rooks, and horses. I am that chessmaster. I am allowing you to have a few pawns." He placed a horse pawn on the table.
Sherlock put it in his shirt pocket. "This is a head. The head stores the brain. That is what I am. A brain. The rest of me is a mere appendix."
...
Artemis was about to leave the area when something flashed on the horizon. He was experiencing what Butler had seen all those years ago in the Kronski hotel. About three stories up, and a bio-bomb with a Koboi logo on it arcing over the trees and aiming for Fowl Manor.
He checked his watch, quelling the feeling of panic. Not now. Not now of all times. They had three minutes to get out of the manor. Judging by the size, it wouldn't cover the grounds, just the manor. A gem of good news.
He tapped the ring he always wore on his hand and let the pictures that he was watching be broadcasted to Captain Holly Short, then sent the images to Butler, along with a brief text.
Blue Rinse. Arriving in three minutes. Is anyone else in the manor?
He received a response almost immediately. No one else. Wait for me.
No time. I'll get Mr. Holmes if you can get Mr. Watson.
After that Artemis turned off his phone, knowing Butler would want to be the one controlling the situation himself and therefore get himself killed.
He looked up again and saw that it was much closer. It had gained speed. Sherlock was already looking at it and narrowing his eyes. Artemis already had a course of action planned out. A bit Hollywood-ish, but it would have to suffice. He opened a window (well, he picked the lock on it first just to see Sherlock's face. Even with a bomb approaching he liked to set the Detectives nerves on edge) and gestured.
"Ladies first?"
"Well, in that case, go on then!"
"Yes. Sacrifice the helpless child." With that Artemis grabbed Sherlock by his jacket managing to still look pristine and unbothered and tossed them both out of the window, and aimed for the bushes.
Artemis just felt himself falling and knew he did not look cool. Or Bond-like. He fell like a sack of rags into the bushes. Sherlock, on the other hand, preferred to flail his feet and land upright. As he up righted himself in the air, he came eye to eye with the bomb, and immediately started matching it with other bombs he knew of. None came to mind.
"ARTEMIS" bellowed Butler as he pulled the teenager out of the bush. Said teen got up, and winced as he heard the bomb detonate and felt bad for the ant farm in Beckett's room.
"I swear he fell out first."
…
When Artemis had purged the gas from the manor, the boys sat themselves around the kitchen. John was ready to explode. He did not appreciate being dragged out over Butlers shoulder and see the other two occupants throw themselves out of the window. And then finding out he was the only one in the dark. Artemis was leaning against the refrigerator, Sherlock was nonchalantly tossing an apple, and Butler was standing in front of his charge as the policeman asked them questions.
"A driver nearby swears he saw something explode. A possible bomb."
Butler cursed Opal for not shielding it.
"No idea. " That was Artemis. "If you are questioning me about an explosion, it was probably your miniscule brain exploding from boredom."
The policeman stepped forward, unaccustomed to being spoke to this way. Butlers finger twitched.
The policeman stepped back.
"Hiding. You are the brains behind the brawn." Said the policeman.
"Yes" said Sherlock.
"No" said Artemis. "Butler makes his own decisions."
Sherlock rolled his eyes while John stepped on his foot.
"Look" said Artemis. He held out Sherlock's phone which Sherlock had not felt leaving his pocket. He showed him the picture that had just been received from his phone. "It was a comet. Please leave." As he lowered it he crushed something. Butler was the only one who saw anything. It was a tracker attached to Sherlock's phone, with the Koboi labs symbol attached. From what they had gathered, Opal had originally thought Sherlock was Artemis, due to the fact if Artemis aged, he would have similar features. The Opal from the past would have no idea what he looked like if she avoided all electronics that Foaly could trace. One of the goblins had probably lobbed a bug that had a tracker attached to it.
He sent his last text of the day to Holly, completely ignoring the policeman that Butler was escorting out.
Opal.
Sherlock was also on his phone. "Anything new from Interpol?" he asked Lestrade, fingering the horse.
"Nothing yet. Anderson is the one with the most Interpol contacts, and he must be sick. Wasn't drunk, but his pupils are kind of ragged. Maybe something in two days, max."
Sherlock shut the phone. Artemis had heard every word anyway. No point in trying to be subtle.
Artemis paled. Opal had moved fast. Now that she knew Sherlock was not him or his father, she had no reason for him. Just by entering the manor, the consulting detective genius had signed a death warrant.
Sherlock frowned. Artemis had no reason to be slightly put out over a man he had never met. For some reason, he had been concerned over Anderson having ragged pupils. This suggested that what Artemis was hiding was not only criminal dealings, he also was dealing with something else.
Butler had the same thoughts as Artemis. He and John turned at the same time where a bomb was most likely to be.
Ticking was the only noise in the room.
In that split second after he saw a flicker of a flame, John saw Butler cover Artemis. The bomb was right behind Sherlock.
"SHERLOCK!" He yelled, pure panic making it seem as loud as Butler's shout to take cover. He pushed Sherlock out of the way.
Sherlock vanished.
Either that boy is the most sane person on earth, or he is so disturbed our tests cannot even begin to scratch the surface
-Artemis Fowl and the Last Guardian