Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider. I don't own Sherlock.
A/N: Sorry for the wait, little Daleks! Life has been hectic, but not hectic enough to pry me away from my beloved fanfics!
File: Watson 04
Day Four: Mystery Revealed
Alex settled in with Sherlock and John quite nicely. Well, not with Sherlock, but he had become friends with John. The man was very accepting, and Alex found that he could relate with the former soldier.
"Do you want some fish 'n chips?" John called from his chair. He had been typing furiously, most likely in his famous blog. He'd finished just a moment ago, a satisfied look on his face.
Alex had never read John's blog, but he made a quick mental note to do so after the two weeks were over.
"Sure," Alex nodded, stretching. He had been on his own laptop, replying to emails. Most of them were from other intelligence agencies, asking for advice. Unfortunately, he'd only gotten through a fraction of the emails. He was just that popular.
"Sherlock," John called to the genius, who was in the kitchen, experimenting on something Alex didn't really care about, "We're going out for something to eat."
The consulting detective looked back briefly, holding something green in between his tweezers, "Is Baker going with you?"
John rolled his eyes, "Yes, Sherlock. Alex is coming."
Sherlock promptly dropped the green thing into a vial of liquid and stripped off his gloves and goggles, "Where are we going?"
Alex rolled his eyes at the man and logged out of his laptop, placing it carefully in the backpack by his feet.
"The fish and chips place down the street," John informed him, taking his jacket from the coat hanger, "Care to join us?"
Alex frowned at the invitation, but said nothing. He didn't like Sherlock, and Sherlock didn't like him. However, Alex did like John, and was willing to put up with the exceedingly arrogant sociopath. It couldn't be said the same for Sherlock it seemed.
The man in question was ready in moments, sweeping past Alex to follow John down the stairs. He gave the teen a particularly nasty look that told Alex that he wasn't done trying to solve the mystery.
Alex snorted slightly at that. Many people had tried. All of them had failed. Sherlock would be one of these people.
He followed the two men out the door, shutting the door firmly behind him. It was a short walk to the fish and chips shop, but Alex found himself on edge. He glanced around inconspicuously every so often, but stopped as he realized that Sherlock was still observing him.
Alex and Sherlock waited to the side while John ordered. Alex was doing his best to keep out of the consulting detective's line of questioning, but it wasn't working very well.
The shop was quiet. Alex could only spot two others, who were sitting in a booth in the corner. They were talking in hushed tones, glancing around every once in a while. It was suspicious activity, and Alex kept an eye on them as he attempted to avoid Sherlock's low murmurings.
"You've obviously been through some traumatic experience," he was saying very lowly and very quickly, "It's all there – the looks, the fidgeting. So what else could it have been? You don't look like a drug addict, but gangs deal with drugs too. It encompasses everything. How can it not be it? And where are your parents? I was right about them not being around, but have long have they been gone? Five years at the least. All your life at the most. How old are you anyway? You can't be older than twenty-five. Twenty, if I had to wager a guess-"
Alex let out a soft groan. Though Sherlock had been talking quietly, it was still quite loud in the shop.
"Is he still on about you?" John questioned, making his way to the pair, holding two trays of fish and chips.
"And what sort of name is 'Alex Baker'?" Sherlock snagged a chip from the tray, "Some sort of play on where we live? Baker, Baker Street. There must be hundreds of 'Alex Baker's in the United Kingdom. Why that particular name?"
Alex had kept watch on the pair in the booth as Sherlock had been speaking. At Sherlock's words, 'Alex Baker', they had begun to move, pushing their uneaten fish and chips to the side of the table.
John and Sherlock didn't seem to find this suspicious. John was still looking at Alex with a strange look, as if he was waiting for a response. Sherlock was still muttering under his breath, but it had gotten softer. So had he noticed these strangers?
The two strangers were dressed in fitting black clothes. One was a man, towering at six and a half feet. The other was a shorter woman, looking less of a threat than the man, but Alex had learned that looks were deceiving. There was a chance that she was just as deadly or dangerous as the other man was.
Empty holsters caught Alex's attention. It was at their hips, under their jackets. It was easy to spot, seeing as both of them had pulled out their guns and was pointing it directly in Alex's direction. He quickly shoved Sherlock and John back, taking his place in front of them.
Somewhere in the back of the shop, a man shouted in alarm, dropping something so that it made a cracking, splintering sound.
Sherlock had finally stopped muttering. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex caught a self-satisfied smirk on the man's face. John, on the other hand, had dropped his fish and chips, making a mess.
"Can we help you?" Alex spoke first, seeing that the man and woman made no indication to do so. It was a good thing he did too. Alex noticed that the man had been ready to squeeze the trigger of his gun. At his words, the man relaxed slightly, glancing over at the woman.
The woman was obviously the leader of the duo, while the man was the faithful sidekick. Alex found himself comparing the two to Sherlock and John.
"You are Alex Baker, yes?" Alex had expected a stereotypical accent like a Russian one or something similar. He didn't expect the soft Irish lilt that was barely noticeable in the woman's voice.
Alex narrowed his eyes at her, taking the time to find her weak points. She was leaning a bit to the left, favoring her right leg. Had she hurt herself? It was a good weakness, and Alex filed it away in his brain. He answered the woman, "Yes, I am."
The woman's eyes flickered to the men behind Alex. If she recognized the two, she didn't give any indication. She gave an imperceptible nod and began to talk to the man next to her in another language.
Alex frowned at this. He was familiar with a few languages, but this was one he did not know. It made him on edge, his mind searching for something he could use to defend himself. He had a gun strapped to his ankle, but he couldn't reach down and grab it. The two captors would obviously see that he was going to fight back. They'd kill him, along with Sherlock and John. His two friends (Alex hesitated to categorize Sherlock as a 'friend') were of no value to the man and woman. That much was clear.
The captors had finished talking in their unfamiliar language, and the woman gestured to Alex with her gun, "Come on. Time to meet your boss."
Alex raised his eyebrows quizzically, "My boss?"
The woman corrected herself, "Your former boss. Our," she pointed to herself and the man, "current boss."
"And who might that be?" Alex kept himself calm and collected. He noticed Sherlock shuffling something, a look on his face that could only mean he was up to no good.
The woman smirked very slightly. It was an action that made the hair on Alex's neck stand on end. She gestured again, "You may know him as Fire-Stripe."
Alex nearly snorted aloud when he heard that name. Fire-Stripe ran a local gang. Nothing powerful or dangerous except for the one time they had been exporting illegal goods to a known terrorist organization. Alex had put an end to that, as well as the end of their former leader, Golden-Tooth. Accidentally, of course. Alex tried not to make killing a habit.
"He's finally out of jail, huh?" Alex sneered, stepping closer to the woman.
"If I may," Alex didn't turn at the voice, but he knew it was Sherlock's way of putting his plan into action. The man moved to stand next to Alex. Sherlock turned to the other man, who had lowered his gun a fraction of an inch, "Your wife is in labor now. If you run, you might catch the end bit of it."
The man looked startled. He glanced at the woman, who merely glared back, daring him to go. It was, in Alex's opinion, startling to see the man holster his gun and race out the door.
"Incompetent," the woman muttered under her breath, glaring at Sherlock. She didn't dare take her eyes off of the trio in front of her. She was outnumbered, and Alex knew that she wouldn't try anything. Yet.
"Why are you looking for Alex Baker?" Sherlock questioned. He had an intense look on his face that Alex recognized as his 'I'm interested! Tell me more!' face. "He is of no value. He's just a boy-"
A bitter laugh was squeezed out of the woman, "Just a boy?"
Sherlock leaned forward, something akin to greed lighting up his blue eyes, "Yes. Just a boy. Why are you so interested in him?"
The woman laughed again. It sounded hysterical, "Oh, Baker! I thought you would have told all your friends about us by now. It's not an easy feat, taking us down single-handedly."
Alex clenched his hands into fists, replying bluntly, "I had help."
Sherlock must have noticed that he was getting ready to knock the woman's gun into her own nose. He placed a hand over Alex's shoulder, which infuriated the younger man.
"Taking what down? Who is 'us'? Tell me!"
She sneered at Sherlock's demands. She waved her gun around, almost lazily, "I believe that I am the one with the gun. I am in control. And you will shut your mouth."
Sherlock looked quite annoyed at the last bit. Alex wasn't sure if the man was told to 'shut his mouth' a lot. If Alex was around, he would say that every time the detective walked into the room.
Sherlock retreated a couple of steps before jerking forward violently. At first, Alex thought that the man might have been having a fit, but he realized that Sherlock had thrown a handful of chips at the woman's face.
The woman fired her gun, at the motion. Sherlock and John had thankfully gotten out of the way, and the bullet sailed harmlessly into the wall.
Alex took advantage of the distraction. With a well placed kick, the gun clattered out of the woman's hand. He had full intentions of knocking the woman out and calling MI6 to deal with the mess, but the woman had anticipated his move. She blocked his blow with sturdy arms before returning a few of her own.
Alex let his instincts take over. He had always been an instinctual fighter, seeing as he had gained most of his experience fighting before he had been trained properly by MI6, but his technique was impeccable. Alex wasn't afraid to brag.
Within a minute, the woman was down, out cold, and police officers had begun to file into the shop, shouting something that Alex couldn't discern from the sirens.
"HANDS IN THE AIR!"
He groaned quietly, moving slowly. How was he supposed to get out of this one?
It was nearly ten o'clock at night by the time Alex had escaped from the police station. He was unhurt, an obvious plus, but the police hadn't believed his story. It had taken five MI6 agents, one particularly annoyed Mycroft, and a call from Mrs. Jones to sort out the mess.
Sherlock and John had been released hours ago, much to Alex's annoyance. He wanted to seek refuge on his comfortable couch and sleep for a whole week.
The door to 221B was unlocked when Alex arrived. He locked it behind him, trudging up the stairs. He didn't bother to be quiet, though every spy instinct in him was telling him to do so.
It was suspiciously quiet in the flat when Alex arrived. John's usual spot was unoccupied, and the kitchen was devoid of its usual body parts.
"John?" Alex called, looking around him for some clue as to where they might be, "Sherlock?"
Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and Alex found his breath knocked out of his lungs. He had somehow fallen to the ground in the span of a nanosecond, and something heavy was laying on top of him.
"Good boy, Fifi!" Someone praised. Alex recognized the voice as Sherlock's.
Something wet and slimy made its way up Alex's face, and he dimly recognized it as a dog's tongue.
He shoved the giant off of him.
"You're back," Sherlock's flat tone made Alex scowl, even as he was trying to pacify the excited dog in front of him. It was a border collie, slightly smaller than what Alex had originally estimated him to be.
"You've gotten animals to do your dirty work, I see," Alex bit back, eliciting a small yip of discontent from the dog. He gave 'Fifi' another scratch behind the ears before hauling himself up.
That was short lived, as Sherlock had strolled over. He grabbed a fistful of Alex's shirt and tossed him onto the couch, "John! Come here! I got him."
There was a shuffle, the pounding of feet, and excited sniffling from Fifi. John appeared out of no where, taking his time to glare at Alex suspiciously. For some reason, his glare seemed much worse than Sherlock's.
Alex promptly stopped struggling and sat, Fifi's drool drying on his face.
"Explain," John's voice was eerily calm, and Alex caught Sherlock's smirk.
Alex bit the inside of his cheek, feigning thought. He had already come up with a cover story during his wait. Mycroft had even chipped in a little bit, threatening the police with his umbrella.
"They were part of a local gang," Alex relented (all acting, of course), "You were partially right." He turned to Sherlock at this.
Sherlock merely smirked. It was quite evident what the detective was thinking.
"A few years ago, I was on an assignment-" Alex began.
John cut in, "Assignment?"
Alex nodded, scratching the back of his neck, "I am – was – a police officer. We'd gotten some tips of suspicious activity, and I was sent to go undercover. The gang was broken apart after I had gotten most of them arrested, but not all of them were convicted. Take Fire-Stripe, for instance. He must have wanted his revenge for killing Golden-Tooth. The man and woman: they were just lackeys."
Sherlock had lost his smirk. He was now eyeing Alex with a different look. Had he called Alex's bluff? Alex had been telling enough of the truth. There was no way that the detective could have known.
John, on the other hand, had relaxed and a smile had stretched itself across his face, "It's nice to finally know the truth," he said, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you, Alex Baker, undercover cop. I'm John Watson, blogger."
Alex grinned back and took his hand.
"Undercover!" Sherlock was annoyed, "Of course! How could I miss it? It was all there. It was the lining of his backpack..."
[Insert collective groan]
Unedited (because I'm lazy and got bored with my own writing a paragraph in. Forgive me...)
Hello! I haven't updated for a while, but I'm back before Sherlock! (Cue hysterical sobbing because after the special, we have to wait another year)
Thank you to Anna (Guest), Guest (1), MLM24, SanityMissing, Guest (2), kingleochuenchom16, Jolinnn, and Fake Samuel Shem (Guest) for your reviews! Since I find it weird to only reply to one of your reviews, I suppose I'll reply to all of them down here:
Anna (Guest): Thank you so much! I hope that future chapters will continue to grasp your interest.
Guest (1): Thanks! Haha, I guess most students understand our pain. Ugh, darned information blasts.
MLM24: Thank you! Hopefully, this is up to par!
SanityMissing: Love the name, by the way, haha. I'm glad you like it!
Guest (2): I knoooooooowwww... I'm sorry, haha. It's been wayyyyy too long, but... better late then never, right? It makes me smile to know that I make you smile!
kingleochuenchom16: haha, yep! Chapter four (finally)! Hope you liked it:)
Jolinnn: Thank you for your kind words! I enjoy writing, especially when you spoil me with reviews, haha
Fake Samuel Shem (Guest): Wow, that was informative! It must have taken you some time to write that all up, haha. I don't mind at all. Though I won't pretend I was insanely confused when I first read through it, I get the gist now! I don't think I'll go back to change it, just because I'm actually a very lazy person at times, but I might use it for future plots... [insert an evil grin]. Thanks for taking so much time to write this info all up!
ALRIGHT, so look forward to "the Deerstalker" next. Don't forget to leave a review!
-Alice (for the Magical Me -shamelessly taken from Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart - follow me on twitter at dalekchung)