Author: One Of Our Users
Type: Fan Fictions
|Sherlock Holmes Series|
|Preceded by: |
|Revenge||Succeded by: |
Don't look now. I whisper. But if my intution if accurate, and as you know it most commonly is, those men are following us.
My partner, Watson, turns slightly. Weapons? He murmers question like his eyes darting back.
I said don't look. And the man on the very left with the funny looking beard, which by the way is really disturbing me, has a simple shot gun, but the man to his right has several automatic pistols. I reply.
Holmes, how in the world did you learn this information if you did not yourself glance at them.
Since when have I been one to reveal my secrets, my friend now I suggest we pick up the pace slightly before we both end up with bullets in our backs.
I quiet agree. Watson says, tipping his brown leather hat forward to conceal his face.
We quicken our pace across the cobblestone ground. I glance around the market, searching for a means of escape or at least better fighting ground. My own hands reach for my inner coat pocket, just to make sure that my small handgun is still there.
Suddenly I spot what I'm looking for.
Follow me. I say, yanking Watson around by the coat so he was facing the intended direction. And if this works, you owe me a drink, and none of your little girl breverages either.
Watson makes a face. Holmes, just because it comes in expensive bottles, does not make it anyless strong.
Is that what they tell you? I ask absent mindedly. Here.
I shove him into the abandoned building, making sure the men following us see. I can't have one of my plan going awry. Especially with a drink on the line.
The place was musty and the floor creaked where they stepped like a dying cat. Which annoyed me severly as I had always had a thing with cats. I've made an effort to drown Turners cats, just to shut up their aweful hissing but his wife had thrown a fit.
Whats your plan Holmes. Watson asks, swatting a few cobwebs aside.
My eyes scan on the area, waiting for the room to process in my mind. Think you can keep them busy for slightly over a minute and thirty seconds?
Watson snorted. It would be my unexplainable pleasure.
I turn and race over through the store, to the very back. I shove a few shelves aside, letting them clatter loudly to the floor, until at last a iron ladder is revealed. I climb quickly, making every second count, until I reach the end of the ladder. I curse realizing I still had farther to go.
Not much to work with up here. I mutter. I pull over a leather trunk, angling and posistioning it until satisfied. I walk back a couple of feet and turn.
I take a deep breath, and sprint foreward, leaping off the trunk into the air, my hands reaching for the beam above my head. My arm manages to curl around the beam so I'm suspended in the air. I throw my left arm up, moving it around the beam as well, before swinging my legs over so I'm on top.
The beam was less then a foot wide, which of course didn't make my job any easier. I percautiously, shuffle along, before jumping over to the beam beside it. I do this until I reach the far beam, which sits beside the ledge that hangs above the doorway.
I step onto the ledge, and thats when the gunshots begin. I take a moment, to glance down at Watson who is is posistion behind the front counter, his own gun out and firing away, at the two men who had just walked into the building.
My minute and thirty seconds were ticking. I move my eyes upward, for the thing I had spotted when I entered the shop. A large, and very heavy pile of bricks suspened in a net-like material hanging directly over the ledge.
Fun. I say. I hoist myself up, using seams, and loose walls board until I am hanging by my finger tips next to the bricks. I yank out my knife, and begin sawing at the rope that holds the bricks aloft very much aware of the bullets flying below me.
The ropes begins to thin, and I reach over for what will hopefully be the last stroke, when I lose my grip on the wall and fall onto the bag of bricks sending it crashing to the ground.
Desperatly, I shoot out a hand, searching for means to stop my fall and am slammed into a sudden halt as my fingers wrap around the 2nd story window ledge. I turn just in time to see Watson dive out of the way as the brick pile falls onto to the unsuspecting men below.
Watson stands up brushing off his coat and surveys the wreckage. A little warning next time perhaps Holmes?
Right after I get that drink. I reply, pulling myself up and proceeding to the ladder, which I slid down neatly until I found myself beside Watson.
Wouldn't mind a drink myself. Watson said, careuflly reloading his gun. My house?
Might be best. I agree.
Watson wife, Mary, held her aweful white cat, its pale blue eyes dull to the point that it looked like a fog was brewing in them.
It turned to me and opened its furry jaws giving a large, hiss.
I hiss back, and Mary throws me a withering stare.
So consequently I give her a little hiss to.
Holmes, can we please turn back to the situation at hand. Watson says impatiently.
Right you are chap. Perhaps a private meeting between partners would be in order. I say eyeing Mary and her cat.
Darling, might you leave the room momentarily. Watson asks his wife sweetly.
Sure honey. May says planting a kiss on his brow and exiting the room.
Darling, might you leave the room momentarily. I mimic in a high pitched female like voice.
Holmes, remember whos home you are no residing in. Watson says lightly, pouring us each another glass.
Thanks you kindly. I say taking a large gulp.
Now back to buisness, do tell me what your newest "intution" is?
I raise an eyebrow. My dear Watson, I hope that you have enough faith in me to not mock me, especially since I funnily enough saved you once again back at the store.
I believe I was the one being shot at, Holmes as you were playing up in the celing, and as you were saving yourself to it doesn't nessacarily count.
Right you are. I say, finishing off my glass and trading it for a pipe. Now, as answer to your question, I have happened to come across a welcome discovery which is most likely the cause of our followers this morning.
And do tell me what exactly your discovery was. Watson says, eyeing me intently.
I believe you are familar with the name Dr. John Beckeum. I say opening my mouth and letting the smoke from my pipe drift out.
Of course. Beckeum is a famous name. Inventer, millioner, professor. But what does he have to do with anything?
Oh nothing, he's just a evil mastermind trying to bring about the destruction of several countries through war and other various disastors. I say. You know, I am feeling in the mood for another drink. Oh and by the way, I admitedly have dreams at night of killing you furry pets.
Watson sighs. Holmes, do you have any evidence to support your claims, and leave my cats out of this! Besides there not really mine, their Mary's.
I dream of killing her to. I mumble under my breath, which was more of a joke really as despite all things I thought Mary was on all accounts a strong headed women and I held no real tarry with her. And yes in fact I have a large folder of evidence, which....
You forgot. Watson says dryly.
I didn't forget it! I just misplaced.
Honestly Holmes your 20 years old, you would think you'd have better memory. Watson says shaking his head.
Anyhow. I say, in an effort to change the subject. I believe the main reason Beckeum's men were on our trail is because of a very vital peice of info I gained.
And that would be? Watsons says impatiently.
Sir you are completely and utterly destroying my dramatic effect moments. I say with a huff of exasberation. Now as I was saying I gleaned a very important peice of information. His most recent target and you could say this person is at the top of their most wanted list.
Watson nodded. Who is it? Another famous weapons maker? General? Doctor? A man with money?
None of the above actrually my friend. I say with a small smile. Thats whats so strange about it. Beckeum seems to barely know anything about his target. At least from what I saw in his files.
And how in the world did you gain a rich and powerful man's files? Watson says with a sigh and rubbed his temples.
Uh...I mutter. Some questions are better not to ask.
For gods sake Holmes! Honestly you should earn an award for most enemies made before age thirty. Watson says exasperated.
I grin. I take that as a compliment Mr. Watson. Now back to the target. I have very small info mind you but I have pin pointed the soon to be victims-I mean the targets location.
I'm confused Watson, you changed from victim to target. Whats that about? Isn't their plan to kill this person?
I shake my head, my own puzzlement evident. No from the papers, it seems they plan on having the target as a hostage and for an extended time. They certaintly don't plan on killing this person. Thats what confuses me. Most of his past targets were those who had to much information and needed to be killed before they could give away Beckeums plans. In fact I have a past tagets list which I-
-took from his files. Watson finished rolling his eyes.
Exactly. I agree. Now pack your bags my friend we're heading to america.
Fun! Watson says. I don't suppose we're going to get a first class ship?
I raise an eyebrow. Actrually I have something even better. I say mischeviously.
Watson groans and my mouth breaks into a large grin.
Well the first class thing is a bit expensive so we "borrowed" my brothers boat which was fairly small, with chipped paint and smelled serverly like rotten fish/ Watson glared at me for four hours straight. I had bought him a bottle of wine though before we took off so he was sightly appeased.
Steering the boat was a bit tricky, especially since Watson kept mumbling. We're gonna die! We're gonna die! In the back seat. Not exactly a confidence booster. I managed to stay on course though and we were making good time. Which was not only great for us but saying as we had to find a mysterious target before Beckeum...Well whoever the target was they'd better hope we didn't crash.
By the time we arrived in america poor Watson was Nauseous. So much so that he threw up for about 5 minutes straight. At first I felt a bit sorry for the lad. That is until he began to insist that it was because of my "wild piloting" no can't say I'm sorry at all now.
Then I briefed Watson on the rest of the information I had gained. Which was really just as much as I could figure about the targets location. The target is somewhere in central Kansas. I say.
Well that narrows it down. He mutters.
A flicker of irration passes through me. Why don't I just pop back to london and see if I can find any more clues shall I? I say in disgust.
Watson sighs. At ease Holmes.
I throw him a look. Now I believe since Beckeum has had so much trouble finding this person the target is most likely in a small seluded town that normally doesn't bring about much thought. Any suggestions?
Watson shakes his head. Or she could be on the outskirts of a big city?
I mull over that. Perhaps.
Any other info? Watson asks.
Uh I have a last name. I say. Rosefelt. Mean anything to you?
No, but ussually you can find people by there last name. I don't understand how Beckeum hasn't. With all his technology finding his target should have been just shy of simple. Watson says puzzled.
Unless the targets records got lost...In which case tracing would be of extreme difficulty. I say.
Well then wouldn't the target be safer is we just left him where he is? Maybe he destroyed his own record. He's been doing pretty well so far. Watson says cautiously.
No, I'm positive that the target is unware of the danger and perhaps has no knowledge of Beckeum. Besides, Beckeum is obviously stuck on finding this guy and as of suck its only a matter of time before he suceeds. I say frusterated. But how to find this target?
I flash back to Beckeums office. On his calender was a scheduled trip to...
Wichita! I say.
Where is that? Watson asks.
No idea. I say. Anywho why don't we go explore a bit of America.
First off let me mention that America is odd. Strange. Confusing, and somewhat disturbing. The differences between its self and england are such that I find myself very lost in the loud and partially rude enviroment.
Holmes on the other hand seems undisturbed by his surroundings and comments brightly on the peculiar landscape.
My mood wasn't improved by the fact that we were at a loose end. Finding out the city had been marvelous at the time but as its population reached a few thousand... well its like looking for a needle in a haystack. A very dull and yellowish needle.
Neither of us were exactly sure how to find the target as obviously we couldn't just go door to door. No I'm afraid at the moment we were stuck like glue on liquid tar. I admit not my best similie.
So, hungry Watson? Holmes asks with his usual mishevious glint in his eyes that so often infuriated me. Honestly he had the mind of a 16 year old trapped in a 20 year old body. Although he looked younger then he was to. He had pale skin with bristles from when he last shaved, tangly black hair that fell to his shoulders and deep brown eyes, that on occasion seemed to verge on black.
No, I'm afraid I don't have much taste for the food here. I sniff.
Holmes makes a face. You are a dismal customer aren't you? The food is not so different.
Easy for you to say. I reply.
Suit yourself. Says Holmes, biting in to an aweful look dish of something. He made a sound of contintment that made the vile from my stomach rise up to my throat.
So whats the plan? I say, having no doubt that my face now held a sickly green tinge.
Hmmm... Holmes says slowly. At first I think he is deep in thought coming up with another brilliant plan to save the day and what not, but when I turn to him he is looking blissfully at his food.
This is great! He says. You really should try some Watson.
I groan. Did you even hear me?
Holmes looks up. Of course I did. He says as if offended.
Really want did I say?
You don't like the food?
For gods sake Holmes I asked what the plan was. I say annoyance apparant in my tone.
Holmes sighs. Can one not even eat in peace now days? He took one look at my sour expression and his own morphed into one slightly more serious.
I make a hand gesture for him to get on with it.
Well obviously we have to figure how someone could hide from one of the richest and most powerful men on the planet. Jackson bgeins. So I have a few theroys. One this person knows their being targeted and is hiding away at the edge of civilization, carving out a living while staying undercover. Or...
Or? I say.
Or the target has no idea about Beckeum and is simply part of the community in which case this person might even be harder to find then someone who was trying to hide. Jackson finishes.
And you believe the later option? I ask though it wasn't really a question.
Yes. Holmes agreed. And I believe that Beckeum has already found his target but something is making him wait. I'm not sure exactly why but at the present moment I don't think that the target has any idea he's in danger.
So how do we find him? I ask.
Simple. Holmes says finished up his american food. We go to the center of Wichita, and break into the town hall. There we should find the records.
But Holmes if Beckeum already knows where his target is he will surely have kidnapped him by the time we get the location?
Holmes sighs. No Beckeum is waiting for something. We'll have plenty of time. Trust me.
Those were the worst words Holmes could say. Trust me. Those words had gotten the two of them into loads of trouble yet I made a feeble attempt each time they were said to believe them.
Getting the records from the town hall was simple really. We had an address and we were well on our way to the location. The target seemed to be 37 year old John Rosefelt. His wife had apparently died in a car accident and he lived with his only child Emily Rosefelt.
Neither Holmes or I were exactly sure what we were gonna do with the child as we couldn't very well bring her along. Or at least not for very long. Maybe we could leave her with Mary for the time being. Whatever the case we needed to get them both out of there.
We arrived at a small, worn down house, though it still had a neat and orderly appearance. It certaintly didn't look like a place that would be harboring someone of such importance to Beckeum.
Holmes and I both exited the car, and strode off towards the building in a brisk walk trying to look as if we belonged there.
I rapped on the door lightly with my knuckles and there was no response.
Holmes throws me a look, and bangs loudly on the door so that the glass rattles. This time the sound of hurried footsteps can be heard heading their way.
The door was opened and there stood a twelve year old girl, a bit shorter then average height and extremly skinny with long blonde hair that fell in waves down her back and very pale skin. Her eyes were bright green with gold flecks and she had a small crooked smile that told you right away she was a trouble maker. She stood in a cocky sort of way with a strong stance, and if you looked closley at her arms or legs you could see the hidden muscle in them. Something about her eyes unsettled me. They seemed to hold a strange intelligence for one so young, and also pure deadliness. One that didn't make sense in her beautiful and innocent looking face.
Sorry, my father is busy right now. You should come back at a later time. The girl says in a light, friendly tone with just a hint of suspicion.
I'm afriad this can't wait. If you could move aside Emily. Holmes says impatiently.
Emily's jaw tightened. How do you know my name and what do you want?
Listen, we think that your father might be in danger. Please if we could just speak with him for a moment...I say softly.
She studies my face carefully, as if trying to decide whether or not my story was plausible.
Come in. Emily murmers. She moves aside, those abnormal geen eyes studying the landscape behind us as we enter. As soon as we cross the thresh hold she shuts the door.
This way. She calls over her shoulder. She leads us through several rooms and into a small kitchen where a man sits at the dinning table reading through several papers. He looks up and spots us immediantly.
John Rosefelt looked nothing like his daughter. He was tall, and medium weight but with large muscles on his arms and legs. He had short brown hair that when hit directly by the kitchen light almost looked like red. His eyes were a pale blue, like a pond bed frozen over. His skin was very tan and he had an array of freckles splattered across his face.
Emily, who are these people? John asks trying to keep his voice even.
Emily shakes her head. That I don't know but they think-
Sir your in danger. I say.
John raises an eyebrow. Is that so? Prove it.
So I explained. I told him how Holmes had seen Beckaums most wanted list right in his office, how they had first discovered the states and then the city, broke into the town hall and found their records and that Beckeum planned on taking him hostage.
As I spoke, the lines on Johns face grew tighter and tighter until they were so taunt I was sure they must be at the breaking point.
Beckeum you say? He asked once I had finished speaking.
Yes Beckeum. Holmes says. Now why do you think he would wait to kidnap you? Whats the hold up?
John shook his head. We have set up some uh- security. Its a unique peice I suppose you could say, designed by my daughter.
Why didn't it keep us out then sir? I ask.
Because you did not have the intent to harm us. If you had, you wouldn't be here speaking with us, or alive for that matter. Emily says coldly.
Can your system also see if we are telling the truth? I ask.
She laughs, her green eyes brightening slightly. Of course! That is in fact the main workings in the contraption.
I leaned closer. Do either of you know why someone would like to kidnap you, John? I asked them.
John shook his head, a little to quickly a clear indicator that he wasn't telling the truth. Emily on the other hand gazed at the intently.
Why do you need to know? She asks cautiously.
It will help us protect your father from Beckeum, at least then we would know what their after. I say.
John wags his finger at Emily. Tell them no more. No more Emily. He says sternly, but she hardly payed him a glance.
They speak the truth father. Emily says. I can tell that better then anyone as you know. Beckeum has indeed found out our last name and location. Our contraption won't be able to keep him out forever. I would give ourselves about a day with the information these gentlemen have given us. We must flee.
She spoke with such certainty and calm that it became hard to remember who was the child and who was the adult. She was certaintly more mature then Holmes who was at this moment, making knots in his shoe laces purely for amusement.
Very well. John says, throwing us an uneasy glance. You are here because you believe I am a target. The number one target, but you are wrong.
Sir, we know what we saw- I begin to object, but Holmes holds up a hand.
You are right on other accounts. They are after someone with the last name of Rosefelt in this dwelling. They are after-
Emily. Holmes finishes, his brow furrowing.
John nodds. Ever since she was born, she was their target but I took such lengths to keep her safe-
And they were not enough. Holmes finishes. Sir-
He wants to know why they want me. Emily says, tracing a wood pattern etched into the table.
How did you- I began.
Know what you were thinking? Certaintly you've figured it out by now. Or at least one part of it. She cuts in.
Yes, yes of course. That would be a valuable tool indeed for one such as Beckeum. Holmes says thoughtfully.
What would be a valuable tool? I say, puzzled.
Emily gazed at him head on. I can read minds Watson.
It made perfect sense now. It was like a puzzle in which all the peices had suddenly fallen into place. So many possibilities open, so many doors... Yes, exactly the thing Beckeum needed and exactly what we couldn't let him have.
These possibilities and insights ran through my head while Watson sat and gaped like an over sized fish. I myself was a bit afraid of the talent and obviously curious but this wasn't the time. We had to get her out. Now.
Well, I think its time we got going. I say, wrapping my coat around me. Come along.
John stood up. You think I will let you just strut out with my daughter? If so you must think me a fool!
Father, at ease. These gentlement want to protect us. My sight has shown me that if we stay here, Beckeum will kill you, and take me to a metal compound somewhere in south america. This much is clear. Emily says, slightly unfocused on the present scene.
Whats she doing? Watson asked.
Seeing the future. John replied tightly.
She can do that to? Watson gasped.
Not really the time John. I think its best we get out of here. I say, gesturing for the door. Everyone including a reluctant John follows me to the entry hall. I am just about to twist the door knob, when Emily shouts; STOP! My fingers pause and slowly lift away from the knob.
Emilys eyes stare blankly at the walls beside her, as if she was seeing more then the furnished wood. Get away from the door. I forsee your early death if it opens.
I cautiously back away, staring at her closely. How do we escape Emily?
She closes her eyes and says nothing for a minute, then they flicker open. The only way. The stables.
2 minutes later, we were all mounted on a horse, including Emily. Watson raised concerns about her falling off or falling behind but John just shook his head. My daughter is a better rider then I am. John says. You'd better keep up.
John, rode on a brown, horse with black spots, Watson on a gray, me on a midnight black, and Emily on a pure white one with streaks of hazel.
We waited as Emily slowly counted down, waiting for out indication.
The doors open and we blew out of the stables. My eyes dart around the landscape and catch on the sight of two men hiding in the brush with long metal sniper rifles jutting out like silver thorns. Emily, who had probably seen these men in one of her visions was ahead of the game, calling out warnings, and pushing her horse faster and boy could she ride.
She restrained herself to staying in sight, but she was definatly ahead of us. I sent my own horse into a sprint, as the snipers came to their senses and I can feel a bullet fly past my shoulder.
Watson, had brought out his hand pistol and was firing freely at the multiple snipers dotting the landscape, take out the closet and sending warning shots at those to far to hit with the close ranged weapon.
I take out my own pistol and immediantly take out a man to close for comfort. Suddenly, I see one man aim his sniper and I know that its bullet will reach me, before I can even aim my gun. I feel his hands tightening on the trigger when all the sudden for no apparent reason, he lifts the gun up to his head and fires.
I stare at the mans lifeless body, momentarily shocked by the change of events. It made no sense, it was almost like he hadn't been in control of his actions...
I shake my head trying to focus, and race up beside Watson. Where should we go? I say, wind whipping the words from my mouth and spinning them through the air so they were almost impossible to hear.
Watson having probably guessed what I was thinking shrugged. We need some place Beckeum would never check. A place off his radar.
I know a place. John says.
The place was apparently a home of a old school friend. It took alot of explaining or more accuratly speaking, lieing for the man, of whoose name is Ronold Swenworth, to allow us to reside in days.
Ron, gave us a quick tour of his house which was actraully fairly large and as he was unmarried and consequently had no children, there were plenty of rooms to spare.
The next day while Ron was at work, Watson, John, Emily and I met at the kitchen table to discuss future plans.
Any points we need to establish before we begin? Watson asked, follower of ceremony as always.
Just a small one Emily says. About the security system-
You were simply speaking of yourself as an offhand hint. I conclude.
She nods. They were waiting for something. Like you said. At the time I wasn't sure, but after reading some of their minds during our escape I have gleaned that they were suspecting two men to show up. Two english men.
Beckeum was expecting us? I ask throwing Watson a glance.
It appears so. Emily replied.
I lean back on my chair thoughtfully. Of course. Beckeums plan was to kill to birds with one stone. Ingenious, but obviously not as effective as he might have imagined.
Watson nodded. Well, I believe we have made quiet an impression on him in past cases.
So it seems. I say. He believes us to be an uttermost threat, in which case he will make a strong effort to wipe us out. Then he would both rid himself of a threat and gain himself a unique weapon.
Unique weapon? Emily snorts. I think I deserve a better code name then that, all things considered.
I raise an eyebrow. Fine then. You can be the.....brain!
Watson covers his face with his hands for reasons unknown and Emily stares at me in deisbelief.
Your kidding right? The brain? You know what never mind. She grouches.
What? I say defensivly. You can read minds and all that. It makes perfect sense.
So does giving you a black eye. She replies. Her eyebrows raised in a challenege.
Holmes! Watson warned but I thoroughly ignored him.
And how does on as small and incompentent as yourself plan on doing that? I growl.
She cocks her head to the side and suddenly I have a sudden and unreasonable urge that I should lift my hand. I raise it up, and curl my fingers in a fist. As if in a trance, I bring my fist up in a quick motion and whack myself squarly in the face.
OWWW! I complain, feeling the blood dripping off my lip. Watson was staring at me appaled.
What in the world was that about Holmes? Watson asked.
I flashback to our flight, a man aiming for my chest but for some reason changing his course and shooting himself in the head.
You. I say, to stunned to even stay angry even though the blood is flowing from my lip still red and hot. She shrugged.
You think Beckeum knows everything but there are some things that even he has no knowledge of. He knows of both my mind reading and futeristic sight but what he has no knowledge of is my real power. I could make you do anything I wanted you to. She says wearily and a tired tone had creeped into her voice as if she had just ran 5 miles.
Watson studied her closly. Are you alright Emily. Your deathly pale.
She smiled. No doctor, the effort required in controlling someones body drains me.
How did you know Watson was a doctor- Uh nevermind. And your saying Beckeum has no knowledge of this at all?
She shakes her head.
How are you sure of this? Watson asks cautiousy.
She clasps her hands together. I have been reading through Holmes memories of Beckeums office. He had very cearly in his file case which he had, unfortunatly for him forgotten to close, was both my adress, name, and consequently info that he had indirectly gained. You noticed it but paid little mind as Beckeums wanted list was far more intruging then the unknown document, at least thats what you were thinking in your state of mind.
Very insightful. Good. We have information he doesn't which is on all accounts, extrodinary in its self.
Holmes, what exactly is the plan now? John cuts in.
We will bring you and your daughter someplace safe, and then me and Watson shall track down Beckeum and attempt to stop him from his other devious plans of which Emily knows as well if she had looked thoroughly enough into my memories.
Yes, Beckeum means to take over America. Destroying famous landmarks, and taking control or murdering important political figures while blaming all of it on terrorist attacks. Likely on some nation that America is already at odds with hence forth sending the nation into a frenzy when the President will be assasinated in some form, or more likley bribed or black mailed in to following Beckeums every command. He will in a very literal sense control America and most likely travel on to take over other places around the world. Unstoppable. Untouchable. Emily says.
Yes. He already has vast armies under his control, many of whom have been bought, and others who have preduce against Amercia. He shall cover all political and millitary basis, and begin a war, of which would be used to solve his economic situation. He would simply mass produce weapons and other millitary based items and sell them to US troops. Genious. I continue. He will control every posistion of power and without being directly presented in any of it. And he has done it all in such a way that none of it can be traced back to him.
Emily nods. He knows what he's doing.
Watson frowns. How does he mean to accomplish all this exactly. Its not like he can just waltz into the white house.
But he can, Watson. It would be simple really with his trustworthy title and work. He is of course a proffesor, and very rich, which in this case could probably get him a one on one meeting with the president in no time.
Hold on. Hold on. Let me get thisn straight. John says, holding up a hand. You two plan on coming up with some super plan to save America? By yourselves? With two handguns? And neither of you are native to the country, correct? Am I getting all this? And wheres my gauruntee that Emily and I will be safe?
I give you my word. I say. And at the present we're the only ones you two got so a little trust might be in order. We will keep you both safe. And as for how we're going to stop Beckeum. Well me and Watson have been in similar situations. I'm sure we'll think of something.
John sighs. Its late and I am tired. We shall resume this discussion in the morning. With just adults present. He said giving Emily a meaningful look. Her face remained clear and calm but her eyes were dark and cold. As you wish father. She says emotionlessly.
Bedtime. Go on up. John says standing up himself. Emily walks up the stairs to her room, but John lingers.
Let me be very clear. He whispers. If you harm one hair on my daughters head it will be the last thing you do. Then he spins around, and dissapears up the stairs.
I sit down carefully, a bottle of red wine tight in my grasp, a pipe jutting out of one side of my mouth. The roof was a calming place, and it had been near impossible sleeping in the rooms. I puff out a breath of smoke and watch it waft into the night air.
I drink directly from the bottle, ignoring manners as their was no one up here to notcie anyhow. Even if there was I don't think I would care. My mind was to far gone, focusing on far more important things. Like answering Johns question. How in the world were they going to stop Beckeum.
As my mind searched for the answer I felt a presence behind him. I had a certain gift. I could see everything. By that I meant that my eyes were able to see impossible details that most were likely to over look. I could pretty much read a persons personallity and history just by looking at them and what they carried and wore.
I turn, slightly and my eyes catch on the small figure behind me. Emily. She was in a pale blue night dress, her long blonde hair flowing out behind her in the breeze. Her pale skin appeared to be a silvery hue in the moonlight, but her bright green eyes shone out as clear as ever in the dark air.
Shouldn't you be in bed? I ask taking another gulp of wine and turning back around.
Shouldn't you? She replies and makes her way over on her light tread.
What do you want? I say. Hardly paying her a glance.
She said nothing for a moment. A drink. She says finally, sitting beside me.
Young lady that is terribly unresponsible and as a adult in charge of your well being I-
John and Watson are asleep. Emily cuts in.
Right you are. I say handing her the bottle. She drowns a large gulp and shudders.
Strong. She says approvingly.
How would you know? Have you had alcohol before? I say curiously.
She nods sadly. I haven't always been able to cope with everything life throws at me. Sometimes... Sometimes its just to much.
Same feeling. I say and take back the bottle and taking another sip. We pass the bottle back and forth a few times in silence before Emily speaks.
Holmes, I haven't been entirely honest with you of late. I have been keeping somewhat of a charade going for a while as I wasn't sure if I could trust you but, you know how I read minds...?
Yes. I say, turning to face her.
Well I have always been able to read peoples minds, Everyone. From yards away. But there is one exception. Your mind. Its clouded from me. I can't hear what your thinking. Its odd. Almost like your thoughts are protected by shields that I can't bypass.
Is that so. I say pleased.
What are you grinning about? She asks.
Well, I must admit I don't enjoy having some child in my head.
She mulls that over thougthfully. I guess I wouldn't appreciate it either. Anyhow, I just thought you should know.
Appreciate it. I say or at leats try to but my words had become increasingly slurred as the drink made its way through me.
Emily looked wiped out herself and finally when the bottle had been emptied, we both lay back on the shingles. So tired. She murmmered, laying her head sideways.
I sigh, standing up and pull her to her feet. We stumble down to the ladder and into the window leading to our rooms. I barely pay her a thought as I head into my room and she walks down the hall to her own.
I hurry down the stairs in a quiet fashion, doing the exact opposite of my fathers instructions of course. Evesdropping.
I slowly make my way to the kitchen doorway, and then peer around the corner. My father, Watson and Holmes were sitting at the kitchen table. They were in some sort of argument. John was hissing at them under his breath and waving his hands in the air.
Watson looked frusterated, snarling out replies while Holmes...Well Holmes simply looked, bored? As if this was a waste of his time.
I turn my head to listen to what they were saying.
No! We are not traveling to bloody England! John says. Emily and I were safe for years until you two showed up!
We are trying to protect you! Watson exclaimed. Its not safe for you two here. Beckeum wants to use Emilys powers to take over.
She would never do that! John said dismisfully.
Wouldn't she? Holmes asked. If Beckeum threatened your life? Or tortured her? Then what? I don't think you realize the extent of Beckeums devotion. He wants her. She would be is prized weapon. And he's not giving up. His soldiers are crawling through America, everyone of them knows her face, her name, and her gifts.
I don't care! I am staying right here and so is Emily! And your out! I won't have you bringing anymore trouble here. Pack your things and leave! John screamed.
I rush upstairs my heart pounding. I hurry into my room, shut the door and close my eyes, My sight traveled into the future, reading the different possible paths. My gaze clouded as I played through my current future. Men, breaking into the house, burning it to ash. Holmes every word proven true. It didn't matter. I had to stay with my father. One way or another. No matter what those English men wanted.
Besides, I could take care of myself just fine.
I hear footsteps outside the door, but they pass on by to the stairs. Sounded like Watson. Then another pair comes around the cornor. The lighter tread of Holmes. I wait for him to walk past but instead the footsteps stop outside my room. He opens the door, his dark brown eyes looking black in the pale light. He held some kind of damp rag in his hand.
He walked in slowly as if weighed down. Oh, he's here to say goodbye. I thought. It actrually made me kind of sad knowing I would never see him again, but not to bad. I had only known him for a few days. Odds are I would manage.
I am really, terribly sorry about this. Holmes says not sounding sorry at all. I look closer at the rag in his hand. A faint scent protruded my nostrils. Bitter-sweet. My eyes widened as I realized his plan to late. He takes the last step, twists me around and covers my mouth with the rag.
I hold my breath, desperatly kicking and clawing, but its to late. I breathe in the liquid on the cloth and immediantly feel drowsy. He holds it there forcing me to continue breathing until all goes black.
I woke up on the back of a horse, my head slumping on someones shoulder. Watsons. I suddenly remember what had happened and yank my head back, turning to slide of the horse but a hand shoved me back on.
Not a good idea. Holmes commented, pushing me up to my original spot.
You! I hiss furiously.
Holmes raised his hands in a calming gesture. Now why don't we all calm down and-
He didn't finish his sentence as I dove into his mind and forced him fall off his horse onto the ground.
This of course tired me greatly. Way to go and use all your energy up Emily. I think cursing myself. I wouldn't be able to pull another stunt like that and Holmes knew it.
Listen, Emily we're doing you a favor. Beckeum would have found you in a weeks tops if you had stayed! Turner says.
Yea? And wheres my father? I suppose you left him there for Beckeum you bastards! What does he matter to you? Just another pawn to move aside? Then I launch into a string of curses, that if my father had heard, my mouth would be tasting like dish soap for weeks.
Turner winced at my words.
It was the only way. Turner says, flicking the reins on his horses.
I entered his mind, reading it carefully. Turner did seem guilty about the situation. And of couse I already knew that they were guineuinly trying to help me but that didn't change the fact that I had just been kidnapped.
So...how far did we travel. I say in a offhanded voice.
To far for you to have any chance of running back. Holmes answers.
My nostrils flare. Who said I was planning to? I ask.
Just a well educated guess that you must admit was completly accurate. Holmes says.
Hardly. I lie. Man he was getting under my skin.
How about we set up camp here? Watson asked.
Holmes nods in assent and everyone dismounts. I sit on the ground with my arms crossed, while they set up. Watson sets a tent, and unpacks the bag, while Holmes gets a fire going. This happens to quickly and smoothly that it was obvious that they had done it before.
Watson brought out some bread rolls and gave each person one. I took mine but didn't eat it. Instead I pouted over in the cornor and started thinking up escape plans like crazy.
I had to get back to my father. He could be in danger. Scratch that, he was in danger. If Beckeum wanted me as bad as Holmes thought then surely Beckeum wouldn't mind hurting my father. Anything to get to me.
I hated my powers. They brought nothing but trouble. No friends, no real home, no family except my father and now I had been taken from him to.
I tried not to use them. I had some crazy dream that if I didn't use them they would go away. Then I could go to school like a regular kid, live in a nice house, play sports, ride horses whenever I wanted, go on vacations...
The life I could have had drove me crazy.
That night Holmes and Watson go through the obvious problem. There was only two tents. They both discussed which of them would sleep outside when I broke in. I like sleeping outside. I can see the stars here.
Holmes and Watson bickered a bit about their next course of action but both of them had rode through the day and night while I had been knocked out. They both nodded to tired to put up a fuss and sunk gratefully into their tents. I was grateful to, to have some time alone.
I did in fact, look at the stars. Just because I never got to see them. My father tried to keep me indoors as much as possible to hide my presence. Looking out my window or even opening it was absolutly forbidden. He had even at one point boarded up all the windows in my room.
Despite my frusterations with him I admit that it was all for the best. Otherwise I would probably already be in the hands of Beckeum. All though what he was planning confused me. Did he really think I would ever use my powers for him? Did he think he could somehow control me? If he did, he was wrong. Dead wrong.
I grew hungry having slept for so long, and gnaw on the bread so that the pangs in my stomach cease. I finished it, quickly and lay back, feeling the hard soil under my palms. I close my eyes, letting the crackling fire and gently breeze soothe me.
I feel myself drifting to unconsciousness when a sudden noise breaks the silence. A crack. Not like that of a twig, but more like rocks thuding against each other in a sharp clap.
I peer into the gloom but nothing emerges. Surely it was just an animals. Or the wind. Yes of course. I lay back down but I can't shake the chill that had suddenly came through the air. I curl up into a ball and sink into sleep.
What was that? I think, emerging from the tent. Emily is fast asleep on the ground-which I still felt bad about- and breathing softly.
I open the flap to Holmes tent and find him wide awake. Something is out there. Holmes says gesturing towards the forest.
We need to get going. I say running out to pack up the tents.
Hurry. Holmes says.
Of course. I reply, quickly packing up, while Holmes extinguised the fire, and scooped up anything I had forgotten/missed.
Emily awoke while they were packing and shook her head drowsily.
Whats going on? She asked stretching, and gave a big yawn.
We need to leave. Now. I answer loading up the rest of our supplies on my horse. Both Holmes and I mounted our Horses.
Come on up Emily. I say extending a hand?
She sighs. Of course, don't even get my own horse. This just keeps getting better and better. But she accepts my hand and climbs on.
Poor Holmes looked uncomfortable as he loathed horses. I mean seriously hated them. The poor lad was glaring at his animal and wincing.
Well lets get going then. Holmes says. Pushing his horse to a trot. I am about to do the same when all the sudden Emily shoves me off the horse and on to the dirt, just as a gun fires and breaks into the bark where I had sat a moment before. She'd saved me.
In the trees. She shouted.
I yanked out my gun and Holmes had done the same, peering into the gloom but we couldn't see anything.
I climb back on the horse, my gun aiming at the surrounding but there was no one to shoot.
Emily, can you read their minds? I whisper.
I am. She mutters. They're waiting for someone. Their leader. And their....Arguing.
I cocked my head but I sure didn't hear anyone bickering. Just deadly silence. Then out of the trees stepped a women. She had olive skin, with dark curly brown hair that fell down her back, and deep brown eyes with the hint of Hazel in the center. She wore her regular mismatched like clothes and rings on her fingers.
Simza! I call. Waving. On our last mission Simza had aided us in stopping a war between France and Germany.
Hold your fire. Simza said, to the trees behind her where others must be present, and smiled at them brightly.
Well well well. Sherlock Holmes, and Dr.John Watson. Just the men I wanted to see.
She crosses the clearing and embraced them both, before turning and make a waving gesture that obviously meant to come on over.
Two men, then entered.
What brings you here Simza? Holmes asks cautiously.
Well, I wanted to invite you to my wedding. Simza replies.
You traveled to a different continent just to invite us to your wedding? I ask surprised.
Unfortunatly no. We have had some trouble....You might say.
Like what? Holmes asks dismounting his horse gratefully.
Me and my husband have been plagued by soldiers, of an unknown party. Apparently words got out that I helped you on your last case.
Wheres your husband? Holmes asked.
Here. Simza said pointing to one of the men behind her. He was handsome with dark brown hair,light blue eyes, and just the hint of a goatee.
And the other? Says I suspiciously.
My husbands brother. Simza says.
Why exactly did you come to us? Asks Holmes.
We heard you were on a case in America, here. We wished to join you.
Who told you this? I asked confused.
Your wife Mary. Simza answered. I tracked her down to your residence.
You were able to track her? I asked worriedly. Does that mean Beckeum can to?
Simza shakes her head. I don't know. If they do, I doubt they'll kill her. And she could always go to Holmes brother Michel if all else fails.
I throw Holmes a helpless glance. I need to go back-
Out of the question. Holmes interupts. Beckeums men would surely find you, and as obvious you would lead them to Mary's location. Then the most likely course would be the murdering of both of you immediantly. How ever. If they find Mary without your help she will most likely be kept alive, and moved to a nearer location in which she would become bait to lead you to your untimely death.
How is this helping? I ask.
Well is it not obvious? There is nothing you can do, except wait and see what happens. Holmes says, lighting his pipe. Mary is a very resourceful woman. My guess is that she'll have sensed the danger and gone into hiding. Do relax Watson.
I shake my head. Fine.
Now. Holmes says turning back to Simza. You're certaintly invited to join us if you don't mind a few minor complications such as likely death, injury, and other treacherous devices?
Simza grinned. Why, I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Emily who had been stroking my horse, came around into view, taking in the scene carefully.
Who is this? Simza asked puzzled.
Allow me to introduce Emily Rosefelt. A small devious child of whom has captured the interest of the well known crimminal Beckeum and will there for be joining us on the trip.
Devious? Emily scoffs. My my Mr.Holmes, do tell me you have a higher opinion of one such as myself then that?
Simza frowned. Why-
Why have I captured Beckeums interest? A obvious question though the answer is of course much more complicated. I do prefer not to tell utter strangers but as these two have managed to weedle the information out of me and so intend to divulge the information to you themselves, you might as well know. Emily says.
Her eyes had a look of annoyance suggesting that she hadn't quiet forgiven them for her kidnapping.
Yes that would be our immediate plan. Holmes snaps.
The two stared daggers at each other, until Simza cleared her throat. Might this conversation be continued on the way? We believe that a group of men have been following us since our arrival in America, and it is of doubt that they are here for friendly purposes.
That sombered Holmes up. Yes, of course. Mount up everyone.
I yawn, exhaution setting in. Days of riding and yet so far from our goal. Where was our goal you might ask? Well we had only recently discovered that ourselves.
It was almost to easy actrually. We simply picked up a forgotten newspaper from an road side rubbish bin and found Beckeums face leering out at us. Yes not as difficult as one might have imagined. Unfortunatly the location was.
We're heading back to England? Simza demands.
Yes, thats where Beckeum is and therefore where we must go. I reply stiffly.
Uh- no, I don't think so. Emily says furiously. I am not going to another continent! Thank-you-very-much!
Will we have to knock you out again? I ask. Because I have no objections. It would be much quieter.
She opened her mouth as if to retaliate, but just closed it again.
Ah, better. I said smugly. Come along Watson.
We rented a boat to travel back to england (might I mention that this trip was becoming rather pricey) and were soon on our way.
Simza, her husand and his brother all look worried about heading back where our other enemies lie. Watson was excited at the prospect of being back in familiar territory, and Emily was absolutly and utterly furious.
She glared at me the whole time, and when that girl glared it was actrually rather worrisome. It was like the death stare promsing eventual revenge and the much closer prospect of fearful anticipation.
It didn't matter either way though. Unless she used some of her freaky body controlling powers on me, what could she do? She couldn't read my mind for some reason thankfully, and she was but a child in reality.
I tried to remind myself of that as I felt her eyes burning into the back of my neck and decided right then and there that I was to keep my door locked full time.
Watson, was almost over come with guilt much to my annoyance. It was hard enough to try and keep them all alive without Watson trying to think of alternatives that may make one happy temorarily but bring about certain death/kidnapping in the near future.
I couldn't blame the chap, honestly I didn't think much of having some sullen child along on the trip but as of now we were out of options, so with us she will go.
Emily spoke finally, realizing the silent treatment wasn't having much effect. So now I'm being forced to England? What, am I gonna have to sip tea now too? Because I absolutly loathe tea. And does england have rights? Because America does and you just broke about 50 of them. I'm not much in the mood for a vacation either. Perhaps you should just drop me off back in America and we could go our seperate ways and-
Not an option. I cut in. DO you ever stop talking. Its like a little bee buzzing in my ear. Quiet disrupting, I must say.
She stomped her foot in frusteration. You-Can't-Do-This!
I looked around the boat, turning my hips from side to side as if making sure the coast was clear. Really? Because I don't see anyone here to stop me.
Suddenly I felt my legs drooping. Apparently I had pushed her to far because she was using her aweful and most annoying body control powers. Oh goodie.
I tried to resist but honestly there wasn't much I could do. I would have taken a face plant into the boats deck if Watson hadn't suddenly dumped a pail of ice water on her head.
Emily's concentration broke and a look of exhaustion fell upon her.
No fair. She muttered sleepily, the revenge attempt sapping at her strength. Water dripped from her hair and drops covered her face and arms so she shivered.
Thank you Watson. Remind me to buy you something nice later. I say.
How nice. Watson asks hopefully.
Depends on how I'm feeling when we get to the docks. I say mysteriously.
Watson shrugs realizing it was the best offer he would get and offered Emily a towel of which she ignored.
She stood up furiously knocking a stool aside and stormed below deck, sopping wet.
Good ridiance. I mutter, heading over to the captain. How much farther is there to travel?
Just a few hours sir. He says in a light whiney voice. Then yer and yer mates will be in England.
Thank you captain. I say formerly before twirling around, my coat whipping behind me, and I hurried down the stairs to inform Simza, her husband; Thomas and his brother.
A few hours more chaps. I say, flicking on a light to the below deck dinning room. The light that came from the bulb was faded and did little more then bring out a faint outline of the various objects and people inside. Thomas and his brother Nixel were here but I didn't see Simza.
Alright then. Nixel says.
Thanks. Thomas added. I'll let SImza know.
Where is Simza? I ask curiously. I dear hope she's not exploring. If so she's in for a boring awakening.
Nixel threw me a crooked smile. Nah, she isn't much for boats. I think she was hanging out with that little gal. He lowered his voice. She worries me sir. She- She's odd. Its like she knows what I'm thinking. And she seems to know things. Thing no young'rn should be knowing. Nixel says worriedly.
You have no idea. I thought.
I quiet agree. She is an odd figure. I say outloud.
We arrived back in England with Watson basically kissing the ground as he cursed America, insisting it wasn't the proper place for an English citizent. Someone could obviously relate. Emily looked completly lost in the new enviroment. Everything about her screamed America. Even now, I could see people throwing glances at Emily. There wasn't much transaction between England and America.
All of us grabbed our luggage and decided to make a stop at Watson's house. It was after all a good place to rest and my house was uh- slightly unstable at the moment. My room was covered with bullet holes from when I was testing the gun surpressor I'm building (still not working) and the whole place has fallen in to dispair since Watson moved out to live with Mary.
Upon arriving at Watson's, Emily was to the point where she was covering her face with her hands from all the stares she was attracting. She looked so miserable I almost felt sorry for her. But my face still had a fair sized bruise from where she'd made me punch myself.
I knocked on the door loudly, basically pounding upon it. Watson was to excited to see Mary he barely protested. Shoot the chap probably would have done it himself.
We waited patiently for a few minutes and when there was no answer knocked again. Still nothing.
Perhaps she's out? Simza suggested, but she locked eyes with me and I knew we were thinking the same thing.
Watson, nods like he's grasping for straws. Of course. He says nervously.
I pull out my tool kit, and bring out a few metal instruments to pick the lock. It took a few minutes but I finally got it undone. You'd think the fact that I was unlocking a door in such a way in broad daylight would attract a few glances but as obvious people were to busy glancing at Emily and muttering. Probably about how odd these Americans were.
The lock finally clicks open and Emily sighs in relief as does Watson. We all step inside and I close the door carefully behind me.
Darkness. Thats all that one can see in the house that is usually well lit with the smell of something cooking wafting from the kitchen. Watson runs up the stairs to find Mary, while I glance around the threshold. My eyes trace over the living room and hallway absent-mindedly when suddenly my eyes widened in alarm.
Tables were in splinters, couches and chairs ripped open so that stuffing poured out of them, glass shattered into a million shards. Nothing was left untouched. I took a deep whiff and smelled the umistakabe scent of gunpowder.
At the same time I came to this conclusion, Emilys head snapped up, confirming my fears.
They've been waiting for us. She hisses obviously reading their minds.
Watson! I think. I rush upstairs, ignoring Emilys warnings. I turn the corner, pulling out my gun. Loading it swiftly as I walked. Suddenly I heard a near silent click and whirled around.
Before he coud even aim his gun, my bullet blasted into his skull.
For one of the most respected detectives of England, and most likely the world, my attack wasn't exactly under cover. Saying as I had basically just told every enemy in the building that I was here and fighting. I had given them my exact location and the question wasn't if they would find me. It was when.
As if to prove my point, a man runs through the door. I aim for his chest, but he dives out of the way, and aims a bullet for my head which I barely duck and it hits my top hat. Probably a world class crimminal or some other skilled marksman. Beckeums man through and through.
I ducked behhind a bookcase as he returns fire. Suddenly another mans runs around the corner smacks straight into me. He grasps on to my jacket and we roll straight into the middle of the hallway. I wrestle him up, in a headlock, and as the other man fires, throw the one in my arms in front of me as a sheild. The man I'm holding dies, killed by his own partner. I then fire openly at the shooter and hit him smack in the forehead.
My mouth lets out a sigh of relief though I know its not over, and race down the hall, to find Watson when out of no where a figure runs out from the library.
I aim a punch but the man ducks and puts his hands around my neck choking me. I begin pull a gun out of my back pocket and am about to fire a shot into the figures head when suddenly I see a unique shade of light blue shining out from his eyes.
Watson. I say still holding the gun.
Watson did not loosen his grip. Watson its me! I gasp kicking him in the shin.
Holmes? He asks surprised an released my neck.
I tug my coat collar back up and throw him a withering stare which he rolls his eyes at sheepishly.
Where's Mary? I say.
Watson's smirk turns into a nervous frown. I don't know. She's gone Holmes. You think...?
That she had been captured by Beckeums men? Thats exactly what I think. I reply honestly. Anyone else in the house thats not on friendly terms.
I don't believe so Watson replies. Lets go find the others.
Simza, Thomas and his brother Mick, and Emily were all standing where they'd left them. Accept there were 9 bodies of soldiers who they had obviously taken out. Simza threw them a smug grin, though she had a trickle of blood running from her nose.
Simza noticed Watsons expression and lost the smile. Mary...?
I shook my head. We're not sure where-
She's safe. Emily replied staring at the body of a man beside her with a knife pericing his throat.
Where is she? Watson demanded relieved.
Mary's with Holmes brother Michel. Well she will be soon anyways. I have forseen her arriving there today to seek safety. Emily says soothingly.
Watson huffed a sigh of relief.
I'm impressed. I say, changing the subject to the men laying dead around them.
Thomas shrugs. Us three are used to fighting together. Even the little gal helped out.
He said gal as if it were a loose term, and Simza shot him a look.
She killed someone? Watson asked raising an eyebrow.
No, she just knocked him out. Big bash to the head with a table leg. Mick replied chuckling. Should've seen the look on his face-
So where are we going to go now? Its not safe here obviously. Thomas cuts in.
Watson shrugs. Suppose we rent a room...?
Right you are. I say.
Everyone heads out the door and Emily follows in the back wordlessly.
I raise my eyebrow at Simza for an explanation and she gives me a look that says "tell you later."
We all arive at the hotel and Mick goes up to get a room since he is the least known of our group. He asks for two rooms each with two beds.
We arrive at our rooms, and began to decide who goes where. Simza, Thomas and Mick stay in one obviously, and me and Watson in the other (seperate beds of course) but no one was sure where to put Emily. There just wasn't enough room.
Should I go back and get a third room? Mick asks uncomfortably.
A child can't stay in a room by herself. Simza protested. Maybe we could-
I'll sleep on the couch in Holmes and Watson's room. That way each of them can have a seperate bed. Emily cut in.
Watson nodded. Its settled then. Get some rest everyone.
Simza, Thomas and Mick headed into their room, while Holmes and Emily and I went to the one next door, setting down our things.
Emily yawned and passed out on the couch straight away, while Holmes and I headed over to the window side table to figure out the next phase in our plan.
So, do tell me whats next? I say shaking my head.
Holmes leans forward a half smile on his face. Watson, what is the difference between Lord Blackwood and Moriarty? He asks. The names being to of our past enemies both killed in the end by Holmes.
I think for a moment. Blackwood was more showy. He bounded right out in the open and pulled a bunch of stunts. He was more of an audience pleaser. Moriarty on the other hand always worked behind the scenes, kept a low profile. Well a low crimminal profile, while using his cover as professor and large amounts of money for his more devious motives. I conclude.
Holmes nodded approvingly. Percisly Watson. And where do you think our man Beckeum is at?
3/4 Moriarty, 1/4 Blackwood. I answer quickly. He's a professor with large sums of money like Moriarty, hiding his true nature and working without the publics knowledge, but he also tends to be careless and wants not only the riches and dominnation but also the fame once his plan his complete.
Bravo Watson. Holmes says clapping softly. You have exceeded my expectations. You are percisly right of course. The mixture of our opponent makes him all the more difficult to kill for he has both numbers and secrecy. He will unfortunatly be more of a challenge then our past encounters with masterminds.
That is all very good but how exactly do we stop him? I say impatiently.
Holmes shakes his head. We need more information Watson. And I believe I know where to get it. See this? He asks pulling a slip of fabric from the inside of his coat pocket.
The cloth was thick, and a dull gray color. Something meant to withsand weather, dirt, and such. Heavy material. But one Holmes was reffering to was the symbol right smack in the middle.
Big Ben. Why would Beckeum be there and why would they imprint its symbol on here? I ask completly lost.
Is it not obvious Watson? The first thing Beckeum needs to do to insert himself into power is to bring about fear. Terror. Untrust within the system-
He's going to try to destroy Big Ben? I say in a hushed voice.
Percisly. Holmes answerd. Now to answer why they imprinted it...
Holmes puts the fabric in the center of the table, so that both of us had an equel view.
Its a signal Watson. Its to be passed onto the others working for Beckeum, giving them all the info they need. While if it was intercepted or anyone else looked at it, they would thing nothing of a stamping of a momument. Holmes says.
He points to the number on roof, almost un-noticable. The day.
His finger trails over to the clock face. The time.
Then finally he jabs his finger on a small dot located seemingly in the center of the building. And how they plan to destroy it.
A bomb. I say grimly. Killing all inside and oblibertating it thus bringing about fear and turmoil and sparking the flame that Beckeum shall continue to build on until-
He has full power. Holmes finished lighting his pipe.
The 28th! Holmes thats tomorrow. I say.
Yes. He agreed puffing so that a burst of smoke drifted from his pipe.
Then shouldn't we be going?
He shakes his head. No they won't set the bomb till tomorrow for they want the population to see it, not just wonder why its crumbled to bits. Besides surprise is on our side, unless we go charging in and give ourselves away.
Ah. I say leaning back. Do we bring Emily with us?
We don't have much choice. Holmes says gruffly. We can't leave her on her own obviously. Not with Beckeum so keen on having her join his cause. Besides she's proven useful. Now I suggest we get some rest.
I whole heartedly agree and Holmes took the bed on the right while I took the one on the left.
Holmes passed out instantly, snoring and laying facedown on the bed.
I rolled my eyes and tried for sleep but it was nearly impossible. How much danger I kept putting my wife Mary in. What kinda husband was I? It seemed every thing I did was pushing me farther away from her. Mary had recently discussed having kids and I had excitedly agreed, but was that the right path? If I couldn't keep my wife safe then how could I take care of a child? They would constantly be in danger.
My enemies all knew how to get to me and wouldn't waste the chance to do so. Hadn't they just proved that by breaking into my house?
I close my eyes and let sleep find me.
My eyes flicker open though it is still dark outside. My eyes glance around the room searching for the reason of my early wake up when a shadow passes across my face and I see Holmes hand looming over me. Prodding my face, poking me on the nose and all in all trying to be as annoying as possible.
What? What? I say grouchily.
My apolagies for waking you Watson. I thought you wanted to watch the destruction of Big Ben but oh don't mind me. Please continue sleeping. I'm sure everything will work its self out. Holmes says in a wheezy sarcastic voice but I was hardly paying attention to the tone as the words brought me back to a stark reality.
Oh joy. I growl, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I don't suppose there's time for breakfast?
Actrually we have about four hours before the bomb is set. Holmes says casually.
Oh, early wake up call. I say irrated, crawling out of bed.
Holmes heads next door to wake everyone else up while I change and go through my daily morning customs which I must say is quiet nice after constant travel. There is no good place to get ready on a boat mind you. Horribly cramped.
As soon as I finish I do in fact get breakfast and its quiet a treat to. Of course given the hotels nature eveything was in sparkling glasses with well polished silverware and the food was absolutly delicious.
Mick, Thomas and Simza looked very pleased with the feast before them while Holmes was nothing but complaints of course. He seemed to be in a dreary mood which given the circumstances is understandable but still.
Emily looked ever worse. Though she had gone to bed early she had dark circles under her eyes suggesting she had stayed up half the night, her skin was even paler then usually and she hardly glanced at her food.
I wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with her and had to asume that she must have over heard me and Holmes talking about Beckeums plan to destory Big Ben. How she heard us I don't- Wait, now that I think about it she probably just read my thoughts and heard about it this morning or somtime last night when I had mulled Holmes words over.
You never get used to a mind reading/body controlling/future seeing kid. Or at least I wasn't.?
As we finished the meal, Holmes told the group in whole of Beckeums plans over Big Ben. Everyone was in shock just as I was last night. Including Emily which either meant she was a very good actress or she hadn't known a thing about Big Ben. Bit if that was true what was she worried about earlier?
As Holme finished the table became deadly silent.
Are you sure Holmes? Mick asked. I don't want to break into a momument for nothing but a whim.
My good man, Watson's and I's cases are full of whims. Now would you like a cup of tea.
Mick sighed. Reckon I would. He muttered resigned.
So. Holmes says. Who feels like dress up?
The look on the others faces was priceless.
By dressup, Holmes meant get in disguise. Thank the lord. For some frusterating reason I still can't read Holmes mind so I have to make do with reading the others around him as to see if they might know what he's thinking. In this case Watson was in on the joke which helped me to establish its meaning.
I wasn't really focusing on anythin around me though. I was trying to see into the future but it kept changing, like the future couldn't decide which path to take. Which road to go on.
What had rattled me was that in Watsons home I had visited the kitchen breifly to make sure no one? was in there when I had taken a glance at the TV and what? I saw made my heart crawl into my throat.
My dads friend, the one who had let us into his house for a short period of time, lay broken in his homes rubble. The walls broken to splinters, the cushions leking stuffiing, the carpet stained with his own blood as people removed the body and speculated the reason for his murder.
I knew. I knew exactly why and in a sense it was all my fault. Beckeum had learned that he had helped me escape and so he was put to death. It was as simple as that.
I could almost feel Beckeum breathing down my neck, showing me this clip. Telling me that others would get hurt. Others would die until I gave in.
And where was my father? Was he safe? Did he leave his friends home just in time? Was he buried somewhere in the wreckage to? Had Beckeum taken his hostage? I didn't know and that made everything worse.
I let out a sigh as everyone tried to decide how to disguise me. My green eyes with gold flecks weren't exactly subtle. They were pretty much unique. How pale my skin was? People look at me and think I'm a vampire. My hair which is described as "blonde" is really more of a unique yellow color as if it had been woven from strings of gold. No not subtle at all.
Simza looked me over. Here, I'll go buy her a dress from the shop down the street and a bonet. She glances at me again. Perhaps a wig to. She added as an after thought.
Simza led me to the store and picked out a white dress imprinted with violet flowers. A white hat with a deep purple ribbon and violet flower came next and then a pair of white shoes.
She then grabbed a Brown wig from the rack and put it on me, hiding my hair in the back. Simza studied me as if all this was not enough.
Those eyes. Simza murmered. And your skin is giveway to but I'm not sure what to do about it.
I'll just keep my hat tipped forward to cover them and we;ll just have to make do. I mutter.
We arrive back to the hotel and I change into my things and stuff on the wig. Simza paints my lips with some kinda pinkish stuff so they don't look so red? I suppose. We were just gonna leave my skin and hope no one wondered why some girl looked like all the color had been leached out of her. I seriously need a tan.
Wasn't it enough that I had a bunch of gifts/curses to deal with? Did I have to look out of place all the time to?
Everyone sat down at the table to discuss the plan in general. Holmes ad Watson would head up and disable the bomb. Simza and Thomas had the job of distracting Beckeums soldiors and killing as many as possible obviously or at least taking them out of commision. Mick was to get all the innocents out of the building to keep them out of the line of fire and just in case Holmes and Watson failed to disable the bomb before it went off.
Where was I? Good question. I didn't know either until at the very end of the meeting people realized that someone else was present. An akward silence as they tried to figure out what to do with me.
I could help you dismantle the bomb? I offer.
To dangerous. Watson cut in.
Whats dangerous is you people dragging me all the way to bloody England. See! Now I'm getting a british accent stuck with you people. I want to fight with you. I can help.
The only one who looked convinced was Holmes and I had a feeling I knew why. In many ways it would be safer if I were killed before Beckeum captured me. Maybe Holmes was tired of playing babysitter and wanted to just get on with it. I couldn't agree more.
Absolutly not. Simza and Watson said together while Thomas and Mick shared a nervous look. It was then that I realized they were afraid of me. Of me? The thought almost made me smirk but I kept my emotions in check and directed my next words at Holmes. I can help. It would work better if I was up there .I say meaningfully.
All four of the others stood up to protest, scolding me about the importance of my safety when Holmes waved them down suddenly. She's coming with Watson and I to dismantle the bomb. Holmes says dismissfully.
Watson glared at Holmes furiously but didn't counter him. I read into Watsons mind and saw he was debating in his head whether or not to press the issue.
So I used another one of my little "gifts" and went into his mind not just reading but changing it so he thought he was completly fine with me going. Bending his thoughts to suit my wants.
Yea yea. I know I shouldn't be keeping things from them like this but there were things that I'd rather keep hidden. Especially since I didn't full trust them.
The effort of changing Watsons thoughts drained me which wasn't good considering I'd be in a battle not long from now.
I tried to hide my exhaustion as I very much wanted to help Holmes and Watson disable the bomb. Not just be hidden out of the action.
Besides I knew I could help. Your usually right about these things when you can see into the future. Makes everything less thrilling though.
So its settled then. Holmes says when no one countered him. Lets get moving. I sincerly doubt there going to wait for us to strut in.
Fun. Simza agreed and she threw me a wink as she sheathed another knife into her belt.
We stood outside in front of Big Ben, all of us dressed proper and formal as if we had no other care in the world then parade around the momument with our heads held high.
I wished that was the case. Instead we would be splitting up into our selected groups to prevent the destruction of Big Ben and the death of all those in or around it.
Emily, are we clear? Holmes asked.
Give me a moment. I say back. My eyes focus one each person in the area, taking a quick glance into their minds to see if they were simply residents going about their buisness or Beckeums soldiors in disguise.
Most were just common people but I found a few of our enemies in seconds. People who were staring up at Big Ben and seeing it in crumbling flames.
Found them. I say, verbally pointing them out.
Holmes swept his eyes over those I mentioned and his eyebrows knit together slightly.
Their number are far greater then I anticipated. He said gritting his teeth.
I laughed without humor. Oh Holmes. Haven't you realized by now how much they want to kill you? All of their problems would be solved or at least back on track if the trigger to your death was pulled.
He glanced at me, his mock look of surprise back on his face. Well I hope they weren't to excited about it because I have much to do yet and I don't like to be interupted.
That I know. I murmmer.
Watson leaned over in Holmes ear and whispered somthing I couldn't hear. It didn't matter though. I just searched into his mind to see what he had said. He has asked Holmes; "Is it time?" And Holmes had replied; "It is."
Holmes looked directly at Simza-of whom was wandering aimlessly around the scare-and nodded.
Simza tipped her head forward, confirming she understood before briskly walking over to Thomas who was standing outside a Cafe. Simza put her arm arm through his and they made their way to Big Ben like a happy young couple.
I caught a gimpse of Mick who had posistioned himself at the foot of Big Ben ready to lead the innocents inside out of the building.
Watson then took my hand and led me up to Big Ben. A father and his daughter. That was the act we were playing. I hadn't been much for this part of the plan when it had been discussed because it brought on a whole wave of hurt. Thoughts of my real father of whom could be anywhere by now or even possibly dead.
Watson led me up to the clock tower while Holmes trailed behind us a few yards, his eyes darting around the landscape. Watson had at one point explained a bit of Holmes gift to me. He could see everything, as in his eyes could detect the smallest details in the most unlikely places. Not only that but he had a bit of a future seeing ability himself. In a fight he could see the battle before it happened and the outcome.
It at least explained a few things about Sherlock Holmes. Which is a nice change, since I still can't read his thoughts. Very frusterating.