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]

Sherlock flops back onto the ground and wheezes with mirth.

[cross_and_bow]

Charlie doesn't let his gun point anywhere other than at Sherlock, but he slowly moves from the cruiser to the porch and stays there under the sun bulbs.

Bella chooses a different window to stick her head out of so she can see them both. "Dad, this is Sherlock. I'm not letting him within arms' length but for the time being he seems worth letting live, okay?"

"...Bells, he killed -"

"They killed a person, didn't they?"

Charlie nods slowly.

"They weren't humans. Look at the colors of the blood on him - I know it's dark, but you can see it's not red, right?"

Charlie nods again, still slow.

[eversomuchfun]

He's sitting out of porchlight range. More or less. Sherlock raises his hand in a little wave, and otherwise lets them get on with their conversation.

[cross_and_bow]

"Sherlock," Bella continues, "is a vampire. He can't come into the house unless one of us invites him, and the porch lights or sunshine will burn him, so we're safe on the porch, in the house, and during the day outdoors or near windows. Most vampires are very dangerous. This one seems to have interests besides being dangerous, and besides he's very good at dodging, so he is still alive. I will tell you first of anything if my judgment on that changes, okay, Dad?"

Charlie nods again. He lowers the gun, regards Sherlock, and holsters it.

[eversomuchfun]

"Thank you," he says. And wryly, lazily, cheerfully, without the least hint of anger: "I am very annoyed about what you did to my coat."

[cross_and_bow]

Charlie snorts and goes into the house. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

[eversomuchfun]

He grins up at Bella.

[cross_and_bow]

"You look like you're having fun. Have you even got the bullet out of your shoulder yet?"

[eversomuchfun]

"No," he says cheerfully. "Should I, d'you think?"

[cross_and_bow]

"Will it otherwise remain open forever or will it just heal around the slug?" Bella inquires. "I suppose removing it is wise either way, but I'm curious."

[eversomuchfun]

"No idea," he says. "Never been shot before. I suspect the latter, however."

[cross_and_bow]

"Then you should take it out unless you want to have a chunk of metal in your shoulder forever or reopen the wound at some point, shouldn't you?"

[eversomuchfun]

"I suppose so, yes," he says. "But it is likely to be an unpleasant job, and I would much rather just lie here and giggle to myself."

[cross_and_bow]

"Well, I can't get it for you. It hasn't been a week yet," she says reasonably.

[eversomuchfun]

"If I wait a week for you to get it, you will have to dig it out with a knife, which will be even less pleasant," he says. And sits up. "Ah, fuck it. Will you be staying in tonight?"

[cross_and_bow]

"Yes."

[eversomuchfun]

"Then I will go home," he says. "And come back tomorrow, minus one bullet."

He climbs to his feet, favouring the wounded shoulder a little.

[cross_and_bow]

"Luck," she calls.

[eversomuchfun]

"Good or bad?" he calls back.

[cross_and_bow]

"At least one of the two, depending," she laughs. "G'night."

[eversomuchfun]

"Goodnight," he says, and waves, and turns away.

Wounded or no, he is very good at disappearing.

[cross_and_bow]

Bella carries on with her usual routine. Attend school and pay about thirty percent attention, read, cross neighborhoods, patrol, follow and eventually shoot anyone who flinches, read more, try any small spells she finds with results that appeal to her and fail at them. Only now she does all of this - after sundown, anyway - with a shadow. He is pretty good about keeping his distance.

[eversomuchfun]

And then one night he shows up at her house after sundown, per usual, with a large, full backpack, not per usual.

[cross_and_bow]

Bella peers out of her upstairs window. "What's in the backpack?" she asks him.

[eversomuchfun]

"Blood," he says, grinning. "My regrettable little hotel room's regrettable little refrigerator coughed its last this morning, and I need somewhere to keep the rest for now. Any space available in yours?"