enjoy state of the art information technology

[cross_and_bow]

Bella looks up Tony Stark. (There's no reason not to.)

...Okay. He looks familiar. And his death those several months ago was really very suspicious, and she doesn't think anyone has been doing her morgue trick in New York City. And his more reclusive identical twin's body was never found at all. (If there was an identical twin, and not just Tony Stark theatrically pretending to be two people with mirrors or holograms or Photoshop and cooperative witnesses giving insistent interviews and then suddenly being dead and no longer able to pretend. There was, after all no sign of a twin before a sudden debut when he - they - was or were fifteen, and... "Sherlock Holmes", really? There's not even a hint of a twin in Tony's birth announcement, which she checks because that's the obvious thing to check.)

Come to think of it, Mr. Does Not Stick To Flypaper never introduced himself.

She supposes that his cute laser trick didn't work that well, if he got got. (But she saw it burn him. It's a clever weapon, should take almost no skill to wield a continuous beam - what kind of onslaught could have gotten around that?)

Nothing about her routine changes in response to this information.

Until several days later when she's crossing another neighborhood (seventeen to go) and - he just keeps popping up, doesn't he?

Comments

[eversomuchfun]

"Shall we see what we make of it, then? If you ever let me within arm's reach," he jokes.

[cross_and_bow]

"If, sure."

(It's seeming so likely. But turning into a vampire does not diminish anyone's acting skills, and he's already this smart and competent when he is literally six or seven years old. Bella's not revising the probationary period.)

[eversomuchfun]

He grins.

[cross_and_bow]

Bella finishes crossing the neighborhood and circles back to her car. "You know where I'm headed," she says, hopping in the pickup's cab.

[eversomuchfun]

"I do, at that."



He beats her there by about thirty seconds.

[cross_and_bow]

"Showoff," she says without heat as she parks and goes in for a book. She comes out with one of the texts on magic, sits on the porch chair, and holds very, very still, apart from page turning - which, as the lights go off after about a minute, isn't enough to trip the motion sensor.

[eversomuchfun]

He laughs, takes a bow, and disappears somewhere before she trips the sensor the first time.

And remains disappeared thereafter.

[cross_and_bow]

Bella plays bait, and reads by booklight.

Someone takes the bait.

Someone creeps up the driveway.

Bella pretends not to notice.

[eversomuchfun]

Sherlock pretends not to exist.

[cross_and_bow]

Someone gets a porchlight to the face as soon as he's four feet away from it, and while he's bawling, he also gets a bolt to the heart. He dusts.

Very silly of him not to have noticed the weapon under the wicker chair.

[eversomuchfun]

The neighbour's hedge snickers.

[cross_and_bow]

"I'm not likely to get two in one night," Bella tells the neighbor's hedge. "I'm going to turn in. See you around."

[eversomuchfun]

"Goodnight," the hedge says amicably.

[cross_and_bow]

Bella spends the following afternoon reading. She hasn't worked her way through the collection - even the definitely nonfictional collection - yet. (But she does take the books out instead of sitting on the Hell Orifice with them.)

Charlie is expected home late on this day, and she doesn't want to be out after sundown without the ability to summon the cavalry, so sunset sees her still indoors.

[eversomuchfun]

Naturally, it sees Sherlock indoors also. But not for long. He heads for Bella's house as soon as stepping outside will not cause him to catch fire.

[cross_and_bow]

The Bronze is on the way.

There is a bit of a kerfluffle there.

It involves no fewer than four species of demon, although not particularly numerous contingents of any, and they are all of the sort that humans may rationalize into believing conspecifics.

And it involves some cops.

[eversomuchfun]

"Oh, fuck me," Sherlock sighs.

He assesses the situation. Yes, that's Bella's father. Yes, that's one of Bella's father's subordinates about to be disemboweled.

Bella would probably not be pleased.

Sherlock enters the fight.

No one involved is expecting him, which means that he can dance across the field of engagement and kill six demons before anyone notices he is there. He makes another pass before anyone starts shooting at him; he makes a third without getting hit. One cluster of demons decides that discretion is the better part of not having your neck broken by the whirlwind of death; they flee. Sherlock stands still for a moment, his coat dripping four colours of blood, baring human teeth at the remainder.

[cross_and_bow]

"Stand down!" orders one of Charlie's subordinates. Another is checking for pulses. Charlie himself is radioing for backup, but he's got his sidearm trained on Sherlock.

[eversomuchfun]

There are six demons left standing. Out of twenty.

Sherlock makes a gentle shooing motion at them.

They break and run.

He laughs.

[cross_and_bow]

"Stand down!" repeats the cop.

Charlie doesn't ask. He shoots.

[eversomuchfun]

Still giggling, he is just a little too late with the dodge. The bullet catches him high on his left shoulder.

He turns to Charlie and sweeps an extravagant bow with no sign of pain.

Then he bolts down the nearest alley.

[cross_and_bow]

There are more shots, but none connect, and they can't catch him.

Bella, oblivious, is reading in her room.

[eversomuchfun]

A small pebble strikes her window with pinpoint accuracy, nowhere near hard enough to break it.

[cross_and_bow]

She looks out the window. (She doesn't open it.)

[eversomuchfun]

Sherlock is standing on the lawn, laughing. His shoulder is bleeding; his hands and coat are streaked with miscellaneous ichor. His teeth and face, however, are spotless.

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?" he calls up to her through his giggles. "It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she."

At that point, he is laughing too hard to stand; he sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands.