Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom or Sherlock, though I wish I did.
John's POV
He hurries off again. Lestrade, baffled, turns and goes back into the room while Anderson and his team, who had been waiting on the next landing down, hurry up the stairs and follow him into the room.
"Let's get on with it." Anderson grumbled.
Forgotten by everyone else, I hesitate on the landing for a moment and then I start making my way down the stairs. A couple more police officers hurry up and one of them bumps against me, almost throwing me off-balance. The man hurries on without a word, although his colleague does at least look apologetically at me as he passes. Shortly after I walk out onto the street. Looking all around, I don't see any sign of Sherlock. Great... I walk towards the police tape, still looking around. Donovan, standing at the tape, sees me.
"He's gone." I hear her say. "Who, Sherlock Holmes?" I ask to clarify but I'm pretty sure its him.
"Yeah, he just took off. He does that." She responded shaking her head. "Is he coming back?" I ask, though the Coocoo bird is probably long gone.
"Didn't look like it." She responds. knew it. I sigh and look Around not really sure what to do. "Right. Right ... Yes."
Fantastic... "Sorry, where am I?" It's been a while since I've been in London, jeesh I'm hopelessly lost.
"Brixton." Donavan responds. "Right. Err, d'you know where I could get a cab? It's just, err... I'm not sure how far I am from my apartment.
"Err..." she steps over to the tape and lifts it for me. "...try the main road." She suggests.
"Thanks." I mutter ducking under the tape. Now to find a stupid cab.
"But you're not his friend." I hear from behind me. I turn to her.
"He doesn't have friends. So who are you?" She inquires crossing her arms.
"I'm... I'm nobody. I just met him." I respond rubbing the back of my neck.
"Okay, bit of advice then: stay away from that guy." She says. Wow she must really hate him. "Why?" Sure his not the most decent guy but at least he's interesting.
"You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing round a body and Sherlock Holmes'll be the one that put it there." She says as if it were fact.
"Why would he do that?" Surely his not that much of a coocoo bird.
"Because he's a psychopath. And psychopaths get bored." She states. I look down in thought. "Huh looks like he is to her..." I mutter just as Lestrade's voice booms from the porch of the building. "Donovan!"
Donovan turns and yells. "Coming." She turns back towards me as she walks towards the house. "Stay away from Sherlock Holmes."
I watch her go for a moment, sighing I turn and make my way to the road. As I reach it, the phone in a public telephone box begins to ring. Turning to my right in curiosity I notice there's no one there. That's, odd. I stop and look at it for a few seconds, no one seems to be getting it, but then I remember my task, shaking my head I continue down the road. The phone stops ringing.
Not long afterwards, I'm walking down what may well be Brixton High Road. Did you know that it's impossible to get a fricking cab in London? Well it is.
"Taxi! Taxi..." I call the tenth cab that passes by me. of course the taxi passes me by. In a fast food joint next to me, the payphone on the wall begins to ring. I turn and look as one of the serving staff walks over to it but as he reaches for the phone, it stops. Okay that's creepy. I keep walking down the road and shortly afterwards approach another public telephone box. The phone inside starts to ring. Okay, if this is Technus messing with me I'm going to blast him. Sighing, I pull open the door, go inside and answer the phone.
"Hello?" I say in a calm voice. I thought it was Technus but, boy was I wrong. Through the line a man's voice speaks. No its...
"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?" He asks.
I smile. "Mycroft still cryptic as ever." I respond.
Mycroft chuckles. "Do indulge me for old times' sake?" He says. "Do you see the camera, Doctor Watson?" He continues.
I chuckle but oblige. Looking around I glance through the window of the phone box at the CCTV camera high up on the wall of a nearby building.
"Yeah, I see it." I say into the phone.
"Watch." Mycroft says before the camera, which was pointing directly at me, now swivels away.
"There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?" He says amusement in his tone.
I look across to the second camera, which is also pointed towards the phone box I'm in.
"Mmm-hmm. I see it. Are you done playing games Mycroft?" I ask chuckling.
The camera immediately swivels away. "oh your no fun Danny, and I thought you would like this." He jokes.
"Oh don't get me wrong this little game is entertaining and all but you did this the first time we met as well." I reply chuckling.
Mycroft chuckles as well. "Get into the car, Danny Fenton." A black car pulls up at the curbside near the phone. The male driver gets out and opens the rear door.
"I'll be seeing you soon." The phone goes dead. I put it down and ponder for a long moment, I wonder what he wants, then turning I leave the box.
A few moments later I'm sitting in the back seat of the car as it pulls away and drives off. An attractive young woman is sitting beside me, her eyes fixed on her BlackBerry while she types on it. She is pretty much ignoring me. Why do I feel fourteen all over again with my old crush on Paulina?
"Hello." Might as well try to spark up a conversation.
The woman smiles brightly at me for a moment before returning her gaze to her phone. "Hi."
"What's your name, then?" I ask.
She hesitates for a moment. "Err ... Anthea." She says not looking up from her phone.
That name is obviously fake. "Is that your real name?" I push.
Anthea looks up from her phone and smiles. "No." She says before going back to her phone.
I nod, then twist to look out of the rear window briefly before turning back again. She not very chatty is she.
"I'm John." I say trying to break the ice. If she can use a fake name I can use my other identity.
"Yes. I know." She replies her undivided attention on her phone.
I shift my eyes around the car. "Any point in asking where I'm going?" I ask giving up on trying to make conversation.
"None at all..." She trails of glancing at me, she smiles softly before whispering. "Danny."
Thanks to my enhanced hearing I catch what she whispered. Of course she knows... "Okay."
Sometime later, the car pulls into an almost-empty warehouse. A man in a suit is standing in the center of the area, leaning nonchalantly on an umbrella as he watches the car stop. I get out and walk towards him.
In front of Mycroft is a straight-backed armless chair facing him. He gestures to it with the point of his umbrella as I walk towards him.
"Have a seat, Danny." He says.
I glance around the warehouse. "You know you could have ringed me. Not that this whole set up isn't cool and all, but still I have a phone, I could have flown over."
I say walking past the chair standing a few feet in front of him.
"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place." He says waving his umbrella to the place. His voice took a bit of a stern tone at the end of the sentence.
He gestured to the chair as he brought one of his own. "Care to have a seat?" He asks as he sits down.
"I don't wanna sit down." I say deciding to just float of the ground a bit in front of the chair.
Mycroft looks at me curiously. "Aren't you afraid of someone seeing?" He asks even though he probably already guessed the answer.
"No one here to see. Its only you and your assistants, who already know." I reason moving my legs so they cross each other.
"Ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" He gives me a stern look. "What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"
I shrug. "I don't have one. I barely know him. I met him..." I glance around again in thought. Wait wasn't it yesterday? "...yesterday."
Mycroft nodded. "Mmm, and since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" His sarcasm dripped of his words.
I laugh awkwardly. "No I don't think so. but I'll send you a message." I reply sarcastically. "So why you interested in Sherlock, I'm guessing you're not friends." I ask tilting my head.
"You've met him. How many 'friends' do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having. And I'm sure you know of plenty of those." He replied.
"An Enemy." I reply coldly, remembering a certain fruitloop.
"In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic." He says a bit of fondness in his tone.
I raise a brow and give him a pointed look. "Well, thank God you're above all that." my sarcasm is really showing in these words, to further prove my point I wave my arms around the abandoned building.
Mycroft frowns at me, shaking his head. Just then my phone trills a text alert. Narrowing my eyes, I dig into my jacket pocket and take out my phone. Turning it on I check looking at the message.
Baker Street.
Come at once
if convenient.
SH
I frown at the phone. "I hope I'm not distracting you." I hear Mycroft's voice chime in.
I lean back and look up at him putting the phone away. "Not distracting me at all." I say casually.
"Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?" He asks swinging his cane in boredom.
"I could be wrong ... but I think that's none of your business." I say shrugging my shoulders.
He leans forward in his seat. "It could be." He says looking me in the eye.
I stare right back giving him a sly grin. "It really couldn't."
As a response he takes a notebook from his inside pocket, then opens it and consults it as he speaks. "If you do move into, um..." He looks at the book again before looking up. "two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way." He offered putting the book away before looking at me expectedly.
I tilt my head narrowing my eyes. "Why?" I ask curiously.
"Because you're not a wealthy man." He says as if it were obvious.
"In exchange for what?" I ask tightening my lips.
"Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel ... uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to." He says as if he were a worried brother.
I relax a bit. I can see Jazz doing the same for me. "Why?"
"I worry about him. Constantly." He says swinging his cane.
"I see." I respond playing with a strand of hair at the back of my neck.
"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a ... difficult relationship." He adds shrugging a bit.
My phone chimes with another text alert. I stop playing with my hair and go to fish the phone out of my pocket again and look at the message.
If inconvenient,
come anyway.
SH
I look up from my phone and pocket it. "Okay." I respond. I'll just tell Sherlock anyways just to annoy him.
Mycroft beams slightly before becoming serious again. "Yes, very good, it seems you have matured a bit from seven years ago." He chuckles a bit.
I roll my eyes. "Gee thanks." I reply a bit sarcastically.
"Anyways you'll be paid a thousand pounds a week in exchange of you giving me information every week." He states writing his offer down in his notebook. "Would that be suffice?" He asks looking up to me.
is this guy's serious?! a thousand pounds a week? that's basically four thousand a month. I think that's more than suffice.
I rub the back of my neck, looking down. "Uh yeah, that would be enough." I say looking up.
He nods writing something down. "You know it's funny..." He starts but trails off.
I tilt my head in confusion. "What is?"
"That you decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?" He says chuckling a bit.
I cross my arms. "Who says I trust him?" I retort.
Mycroft gives me a pointed look. "Right, I almost forgot you don't trust easily." He says sarcasm hinted in his words.
I roll my eyes and chuckle. "Is that all?"
He raises his head and looks me eyes. "Actually there was something I thought you should know. The S.I.A completed a portal to the Ghost Zone right here in London." He states.
What?! A ghost portal right here in London? "Do the ghost come out willy nilly or do they actually have it closed?" I ask lowering myself back to the ground.
"They still haven't figured out how to keep it closed so it's open at all times. But I wouldn't worry since the disasteroid incident they haven't really come here have they?" Mycroft assures.
welp guess it can't be helped. "okay then, if that's all I think I'm going to go now." I say turning to leave.
"I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen." Mycroft's voice chimes as I walk.
I stop dead. My shoulders tense and drop, shaking my head a little, I turn and glare at him my eyes cold. What is with everyone reading me like a book? It's starting to get annoying.
"My wot?" I spit out through my gritted teeth.
Mycroft doesn't seem fazed by this. "Show me."
He nods towards my left hand as he speaks, planting the tip of his umbrella on the floor and leans casually on it like a man who is used to having his orders obeyed. I, however, am not going to be intimidated and deliberately shift my feet under me glancing around as if in contemplation. Raising my hand, I stay still. If he wants to look at my hand he has to come to me. Apparently unperturbed by this belligerence, the man strolls forward, hooking the handle of the umbrella over his arm as he reaches for my hand. I let him take my hand before making it intangible, slipping it out of his hand.
Mycroft gives me a pointed look, I chuckle before dropping the intangibility.
Mycroft takes it in both of his own hands and looks at it closely. "Remarkable."
I tilt my head in confusion. "What is?" I ask wondering why he was so interested in my hand.
"Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield." He said letting go of my hand. "You've seen it already, haven't you?"
Oh get to the point. "What's wrong with my hand?" I ask rolling my eyes.
"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand." He says in answer. I nod my head, of course it does that, I was shot in the arm for fucks sake.
"Your therapist thinks it's post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service." He adds.
I almost flinches as Mycroft accurately fires off these facts at me. I cross my arms my eye twitching in slight anger.
"Get to your point." I growl out my teeth gritting together.
"Fire her. She's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady." He states nodding his head to my crossed arms.
My eyes narrow before flickering to my arms. uncrossing them I notice that my hand is in fact steady.
Mycroft's voice makes itself known again. "You're not haunted by the war, Danny, given your history I would be surprised if you were... you miss it." He leans closer to me. "Welcome back." He whispers before backing up. Turning he walks away.
Just I turn to leave as well my phone chimes again. Ignoring it for a second I glance at the retreating man. He stops for a moment and looks over his shoulder. "Until we meet again Danny." He says before leaving.
I stands fixed to the spot for a few seconds, behind me, the car door opens and Anthea gets out, her attention still riveted to the BlackBerry held in front of her in both hands. "I'm to take you home." She says her gaze never leaving the screen.
I turn to her but stop, oh wait I should check that text… Opening my phone I check the last message.
Could be dangerous.
SH
I smirk to myself putting my phone away, you don't need to tell me twice. Anthea's voice pops up. "Address?"
I glance at up as I start to make my way to the car. "Err, Baker Street. Two two one B Baker Street. But I need to stop off somewhere first." I respond getting in the car.
We stop by my old place. Getting out of the car I go up to my room. Grabbing both the gun and ectogun I head back to the car and head back to Baker Street. Stepping out of the car I turn to Anthea. "Hey, um… do you get any free time?" I ask rubbing the back of my neck.
She chuckles. "Oh, yeah. Lots." She responds eyes still glued to her phone. I stand there awkwardly as she keeps working on her phone, after a long moment she glances at me. "Bye." Coughing awkwardly, I turn to leave. "Okay." I say as I enter the building.
By now I should be somewhat used to Sherlock behavior, right? Apparently the Coocoo bird is full of surprises, which I figure out when I enter the flat and see him lying down with his shirt sleeves rolled up, clenching his left fist repeatedly. "What are you doing?" I ask entering the room and standing in front of him.
Sherlock glances at me, calmly lifting his right hand to show three round nicotine patches. "Nicotine patch. Helps me think." He says pressing on the patches against his skin to speed up the effects. "Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work." He clicks his 'k' in the last word as if to punctuate his annoyance.
I roll my eyes. "Its good news for breathing." And flying don't want that stuff to ruin my flight, I add in my head. Sherlock gives me a dismissive look. "Oh, breathing. Breathings boring."
I frown when I notice he has three patches on. "Are those three patches you have on?" I ask. He places his hands under his chin as if in prayer and closes his eyes. "It's a three patch problem." He responds. I glance around a moment before retuning my gaze back to him. "Well?" I ask tapping my foot slightly.
The git doesn't respond. "You asked me to come. I'm assuming its important." As soon as I finish my sentence his eyes snap open. "Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?" He asks glancing in my direction. The hell, did he just get me over here just to borrow my phone again? "And what's wrong with yours? It seemed to be working just fine for you to call me over." I sigh exasperated. "Don't wanna use my. Always a chance that the number will be recognized. It's on the website." He responds calmly. I take a deep breath. "Mrs. Hudson's got a phone." I say through gritted teeth; my fangs were begging to dig into my bottom lip.
"Yes, she's downstairs, I tried calling but it seems she didn't here me." He replies his eyes still closed. My right eye twitches slightly. "I was on the other side of London." I say through my gritted teeth my eyes flashing green for a millisecond.
"There was no hurry." He responded casually. I seriously want to shoot him with a icicle right now. Sighing I fish out my phone from my old jacket and extend it towards him. "Here."
Without opening his eyes, Sherlock holds out his right hand with his palm up. I glare at him for a moment. This git is getting on my nerves, and why does blasting his face of sound so appealing to me. Stepping forward I slap the phone into his hand. The consulting detective slowly lifts his arm and puts his hands together again the phone pinned between them.
Turning to pace around the room I glance at the coocoo bird again. "So, what's this about – the case?" I ask trying to get some information out of him. I hear him whisper. "Her case?" What? "Her case?" I ask feeling confused. Sherlock opens his eyes. "Her suitcase, yes, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake." He says.
Oh, I think I get it. "Okay so he took her case, now what?" Sherlock lowers his voice as if talking to himself. "It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." Raising his voice a little he holds out my phone to me. "On my desk, there's a number. I want you to send a text." He says expectedly. This git… I smile tightly. "You brought me here… to send a text." I say tightly straining to keep my anger in check. I'm seriously going to blow shit up after this.
As if oblivious to my anger he insists. "Text, yes. The number on my desk." He says his hand still outstretch with my phone still in his palm. If I overshadow him and make him jump out of the window, is that still considered homicide? I wonder before stomping over to him snatching my phone I head over to the window. Sherlocks voice breaks the silence once more. "What's wrong?" He asks. Glancing back, I notice that he opened his eyes and had tilted his head in my direction.
Turning my gaze outside again I shrug. "Nothing really just met an old friend, apparently has yours as well." I respond.
"A friend?" He asks, I can hear the confused frown he has on his face. "Well more like an enemy in your case." I correct myself. "Oh, which one?" He replies calmly.
I chuckle. "Your arch-enemy, according to him." I turn to him. "Do people still have arch-enemies anymore?" I say turning to him an amused smile on my face. He looks me up and down his eyes narrowed. "Did he offer money to spy on me?" He asks suspicion in his voice. "Yeah." I respond simply.
He looks away for a second. "Did you take it?" He asks glancing at me again. "Yeah, four thousand pounds a month." I respond simply preparing for if he attacks, though I doubt he could take me on. I didn't expect his responds. "Good well split the fee then good thinking John. Now the number." He says expectedly.
I roll my eyes my anger subsiding and turning into annoyance. Walking over to the desk I fish out the number. Checking the name, I recognize it. "Jennifer Wilson… Wait, hang on ain't that the dead lady's name?" I say looking at him. "Yes. That's not important. Just enter the number." Groaning at his vague response I shake my head before starting to put in the number.
"Are you doing it?" Sherlock asks impatiently.
"Yes." I respond.
.
.
.
"Have you done it?"
"Ye… hang on!" I say exasperated with the man.
He waits for a couple of seconds. "These words exactly: What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out."
I start typing but then stop and glance at him. He blacked out? He keeps narrating. "Twenty =-two Northumberland street. please come." He finishes. I had paused and didn't finish writing the message instead I turn to him frowning slightly. "You blacked out?" I ask slightly concerned.
Sherlock looks at me. "What? No. No!" He flips his legs around and stands up, stepping on the coffee table he makes his way over to the kitchen. "Type and send it. Quickly." He says heading to the kitchen. I look down at the phone and continue the message. He comes back carrying something. Heading to the dining table he pulls out one of the chairs, setting it in front of one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, he places the object on it and sits down in the armchair.
"Have you sent it?"
"Uh, what's the address?"
"Twenty-two Northumberland street. Hurry up!" He says impatiently. Albright jeez no need to get worked up. I finish the message then look up to see him open a pink suitcase revealing its contents. Wait a minute. "That's the pink lady's suitcase. That's Jennifer Wilsons case." I say walking round it to face Sherlock.
"Yes, obviously." He says studying the case closely. I stare at him stunned. Well then…. Am I seriously rooming with a serial killer? If so I think I'd prefer living with the Fruitloop after all. Sherlock glances at me and roll his eyes. "Oh, perhaps I should mention, I didn't kill her."
"Never said I did." I respond in defense even though I was relaxing on the inside.
He gives me an inquisitive look. "Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption." He responds calmly.
"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?" If so how the hell do the guys at Scotland Yard still let him into the crime scenes?
The coocoo bird smirks as if it were funny. "Now and then, yes." He lifts himself with his hand on the arms of the chair and puts his feet on the seat leaning his back on the backrest he places his hands under his chin.
"okay then." I sit down in my chair. "So, how did you get this?"
"By looking."
"Where?"
"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man which is statistically more likely – so obviously, he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the second he found out he had it. Wouldn't take him more than five minutes to notice his mistake. So, I checked every back street big enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens. And anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being seen. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip." He finishes explaining looking pleased with himself. I
I lean back in awe. Wow he did all that while I was with Mycroft? "Pink. You figured all of this out, just because you realized her case would be pink?"
"Well, it had to be pink, obviously."
"Huh, why didn't I think of that?" I say to myself. I guess I'm more used to tracking ghosts.
I'm startled when Sherlock answers. "Because your and idiot." I glance at him bewildered. "No, no, no, don't look like that. Practically everyone is." He says waving his hand dismissively. Pointing his hand to the case he says. "Now, look. Do you see what's missing?"
I look at the case and study it. Hmm well it can be clothes or toiletries, seriously this lady was obsessed with pink, wait. "Her phone." I respond.
"Exactly, you don't seem to be as much of an idiot as I first though, an idiot non-the less but still. There was no phone on the body, it's not in her case. We know she had one – that's her number there; you just texted it." Sherlock says waving his hands in gestures.
"Maybe she left it at home?" I suggest. He lifts himself up again and sits down again his feet resting on the floor.
"She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home."
At that moment, I glance at my phone. "Err, why did I just send that text?"
"Well the question is: where is her phone now?"
I think for a moment, okay either she lost it or…. Oh, for fucks sake. "The murderer, you think the has the phone."
"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way the balance of probability is the murderer has the phone."
"So, I just texted a murderer? What good will that do?" I say just as my phone rings. I look to Sherlock then to my phone the screen flashing with an unknown number. Sherlock was looking at my phone as well. "A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found the phone they would ignore a text like that, but the murderer…" He pauses for a dramatic effect. Wow Mycroft wasn't kidding when he said he was dramatic. The phone stops ringing. "…Would panic." He flips the lid of the suitcase shut.
Standing Sherlock grabs his coat and heads for the door. I my gaze follows him. "Have you talked to the police?" I ask the detective.
"Four people are dead. There's no time for the police." He states going to open the door. "So why are you talking to me?" I ask twisting my body to meet his eyes. As I do this I notice the skull is gone. I'm replacing the skull aren't I.
Sherlock was halfway out the door when his head pops back into the room. "Mrs. Hudson took my skull." I knew it.
"So, I'm basically replacing the skull."
"Relax you're doing fine." He says as if it were a compliment. I don't move from my place in the chair. "Well?" I hear him say from the door.
"Well what?" I ask.
"Well you could just sit there and watch tally, or."
'You want me to come with you?" I ask bewildered
"I like company when I go out, and I think better when I think out loud and the skull just attracts attention so…" He responds giving me a cheeky smile.
I smile briefly, sounds like an adventure. "You know I was warned against this, sink you seem to get off it." I say as I stand.
"And I said dangerous and here you are." He replied smirking before waltzing out the door.
I shake my head. "Damn it he's right." I mumble before following.
Were now headed to Northumberland street. "You think he's stupid enough to go there?"
Sherlock is smiling as he responds. "No, I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones, they're so desperate to get caught."
Why would a serial killer want to get caught? "Why?"
"Appreciation! Applause! A chance in the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius John, it needs attention."
I give the man a look. I thinks I notice Sherlock. "Yeah."
The implication flies over his head as he spins, his arms outstretch. "This is his hunting ground, right here at the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims are abducted, that changes everything! Because all of his victims disappear from these busy streets and nobody sees them go." He stops holds his hands at the sides of his head as if he was trying to focus. "Think! Who could we trust? Who could hunt in the middle of a crowed? Who passes by, unnoticed where ever they go?" he exclaims.
Hmm who could do that? Maybe a ghost? They could if they overshadow the person. Or use invisibility. "Maybe a ghost?" O suggest.
Sherlock looks at me then shrugs. "Could be, hungry?" He suggests leading the way to a small restaurant.
When we enter were immediately directed to a reserved table in front of the window. Huh they must know Sherlock then.
"Thank you Billy." I hear him say before we sit down. I sit down with my back to the window. Sherlock nods his head to the building across the street. "Twenty-two Northumberland street, keep your eye on it." He says. I nod and make a clone of myself when he's not looking having it fly to the building invisibly.
"Do you really think he's going to walk up and ring the doorbell? He'd have to be mad."
"He has killed four people John."
"Well mad-er." I say as someone else comes to the table.
"Sherlock!" The man says taking Sherlock's hand and shaking it.
"Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." He proclaims placing two menus on the table. "On the house, for you and your date." He says. What is it with everyone thinking were a thing?
Sherlock turns to me. "Do you want to eat?" He asks.
I'm more focused on the owner of the place. "I'm not his date." I state.
He ignores me completely and keeps talking. "This man got me of a murder charge." He says placing a hand on Sherlocks shoulder.
Sherlock introduces him. "This is Angelo."
Angelo offers a hand for me to shake, I take it.
"Three years ago, I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particular vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking." Sherlock states. But wouldn't that mean he'd still go to prison?
As I think this Angelo beams at me. "He cleared my name."
"I cleared it a bit." He corrects. "Anything happening opposite?"
Angelo looks to him. "Nothing." He says before turning to me again. "If it weren't for this man I would have one to prison." He says, then Sherlock corrects again. "You did go to prison."
This guy must have hearing problem cause he continues as if he didn't hear him. "I'll get a candle for the table, more romantic." He says before turning to walk away. "I'm not his date!" I call after him, sighing I turn to Sherlock.
He gestures to the menus. "You might as well eat something we might be here a while." He says before turning his gaze to the window again. I look at the menu just as Angelo returns with a lit candle. He gives me a thumb up before going back to the kitchen. "Thanks…" I mutter turning my attention to the menu, my clones attention on the building.
A little while later there a plate of food in front of me. Licking my lips I dig in. "You know I used to have an arch enemy once." I say to start a conversation. Sherlock takes a moment before turning to face me. "Sorry?"
I shrug as I continue to eat. "Yeah we used to be at each other's thoughts. You wouldn't imagine the prank wars we used to pull on each other, though he did become mayor of my town just to annoy me." I say trying to start conversation.
"Really? Well with us it's more of an intellectual race. Even though he believes he's smarter." He responds. "So yours become mayor of your town to spite you?" Sherlock says.
"Yeah, and on top of that he was always trying to break my parents up, since he wanted to be with my mom." I say a shudder running down my spine at the memory.
Sherlock nods smiling in amusement. "He sounds like he was a handful."
"Yeah he was… anyways do you have a girlfriend then?" I ask trying to get to know him better.
Sherlock turns his gaze out the window again. "No, not really my area." He says his gaze fixated on the window.
I nod and continue eating. After a moment, I realize the possible meaning in the statement. "Oh, right. D'you have a boyfriend?"
Sherlocks head snaps to my direction.
"Which is fine, by the way." I add quickly.
"I know its fine." He replies a bit sharply. Huh he seems annoyed…I'm going to keep asking questions.
I smile trying to say that I'm fine with it. "So you've got a boyfriend then?"
"No." came his sharp answer.
I'm still smiling but it's starting to strain. "Right. Okay. Your unattached. Like me." I say before concentrating on my food again. This is starting to get to awkward. "Good."
I keep eating for a bit before Sherlock's voice interrupts me, he seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. "John, um, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, though I'm flattered I'm simply not looking for a relationship right- "I cut off his rambling. "No." I simply state before clearing my through a bit. "No, I'm not asking no." I say fixating my gaze on Sherlock. "I'm just saying, it's all fine."
He looks at me for a moment before nodding. : Good thank you." He turns his attention back to the street. Oooookay that went to a weird place really quickly. I think just as Sherlock nods out the window. "Look, across the street. Taxi. "He says as I twist around to see. My clone verifies what Sherlock is saying. "Stopped, nobody getting in, and nobody getting out."
In the rear of the taxi the male passenger is looking through the side window as if looking for someone. "Why a taxi? Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it so clever?" I hear Sherlock whisper quietly to himself.
"You can figure that out later, is that him?" I say rolling my eyes at the man, my clone flies in closer staying out of the visible plain to inspect the passenger.
"Don't stare." I hear Sherlock say to me.
"Your staring." I retort looking at him.
"Well we can't both stare." He says before getting up, grabbing his coat he rushes out the door. Standing as well I quickly follow him. In the streets, the cab start to leave, Sherlock the coocoo bird that he is decide to chase after it almost getting t=run over in the process. Sighing I fuse back with my clone before following him. He makes it to the curb were the taxi was park before stopping. "I got the license plate." I say coming to a stop next to him. "Good for you." He says before closing his eyes his hands at the side of his face.
He starts to rapid fire stoplights and directions until he opens his eyes and lowers his palms. "This way." He says before taking of. I sigh, this would be easier if I could just fly us, but that would include telling him my secret and I really don't want to tell him that. It would beat the purpose of having this identity. I run after him.
We go down alleys, up escape latter's and run over roof tops, at one point I almost fell as we jumped for one roof to another, thank god, I have ghost powers. At one point, we almost caught up but the taxi sped past us, we grunt in frustration before Sherlock starts of in another direction. Finally, we manage to cut of the taxi… by running in front of it. The cab screeches to a halt as Sherlock crashes hard into the bonnet. Scrabbling with his jacket he pulls out an I.D. badge and flashes it at the driver as he runs to the right-hand side of the cab.
"Police! Open her up!" He shouts panting heavily as he opens the rear door. Staring at the passenger Sherlock instantly straightens as I catch up with him. "No." He leans down again to glance at the passenger who's anxiously staring at us. "Teeth, tan: what – Californian?" He says glancing at the floor to the luggage the poor guy has. "L.A. Santa Monica. Just arrived." He states straightening up again he grimaces.
I glance at the luggage before turning to him. "Well shit." I say as Sherlock directs his attention to the passenger again. "It's probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?" He says to the man. "Uh, sorry- are you guys the police?" He asks. Sherlock flashes the badge his holding briefly to the man. "Yeah. Everything alight?"
The man smiles as if relived. "Yeah."
Sherlock pauses for a moment before saying. "Welcome to London." Then he quickly walks of leaving me behind. Leaning on the door I look at the man. "Err, any problems, just let us know." I say awkwardly before shutting the door and following Sherlock.
"So, it was just a cab that happened to slow down."
"Basically."
"Not the murderer."
"Not the murderer, no."
"Wrong country, good alibi."
"As they go." Sherlock says twiddling with the I.D. card.
"Hey, where-where did you get this? Here." I ask taking the card. He lets me.
"Right." I look at the name on the card. "Detective Inspector Lestrade?"
"Yeah. I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I've got plenty at the flat." He says glancing around.
I nod, glancing at the card again before giggling.
Sherlock looks at me weirdly. "What?"
I stop giggling. "Nothing just: Welcome to London." I say chuckling.
Sherlock chuckles as well then, he seems to notice something down the word. Turning to me he smiles. "Got your breath back?"
Well technically it never left but. "Ready when you are." I say smiling before we run down the road.
And that's it the second chapter done! I'm sorry it's a day late. It really didn't want to get written and I was using the script for reference! Anyways thank you so much for your reviews they really brightened up my day! Well see you next chapter!
Word Count: 7209