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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?
cross_and_bow
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?"
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.
He climbs to his feet, favouring the wounded shoulder a little.
eversomuchfun
"Goodnight," he says, and waves, and turns away.
Wounded or no, he is very good at disappearing.
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.
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?"
eversomuchfun
"Pig, some cow," he says. "I am trusting the labeling system of the butcher I stole from. None human, in any case; I'd notice that."
cross_and_bow
"There's fridge space for that much volume, although I'll have to rearrange the vegetable crisper. Unless you want to drink it cold, there'll need to be a drop point and a time of night picked out, at least for the next few days."
eversomuchfun
"You can bring some out to me when I arrive to go about my bodyguarding, can you not?"
cross_and_bow
"Yes, but handing it to you is not happening, yet, and ideally it would be warmed - how long in the microwave? how much per day? - when you arrived, so we didn't waste time that could be spent patrolling. I'm not sure where you're staying or how long it takes you to get here or whether other things sometimes come up in your - undeath - actually, that's nonsensical, you are clearly a walking-around intelligent thing and pulse-based definitions of life are comparatively uninteresting and I don't think the scientific community has had a chance to rule on vampires anyway yet - whether other things come up in your life between sunset and your appearance here."
eversomuchfun
Sherlock grins.
"Other than the hopefully rare occasions when I have to save your father's life on the way, I have nothing to occupy my at all between home and here. I save other pursuits for while you are sleeping."
"Other than the hopefully rare occasions when I have to save your father's life on the way, I have nothing to occupy my at all between home and here. I save other pursuits for while you are sleeping."
cross_and_bow
"It would be a waste of time for me to leave a bag of blood outside for you at sunset and for you to run it back to your 'regrettable little hotel' to microwave it, regardless," says Bella. "I may as well take care of that." (She can always hold her nose. She owns clothespins.) "Acknowledging that microwaves may vary, how much do you need and how long do I nuke it?"
eversomuchfun
"A jar a night and two minutes seems to be about the right answer. I haven't been eating this way for very long."
cross_and_bow
"Sure. Do you need any now - or, no, you wouldn't, you said it was your fridge, not your microwave. Leave the backpack on the driveway and I'll come take it in."
cross_and_bow
She comes downstairs, fetches a grocery bag, goes outside, and opens the bag. (She doesn't trust him perfectly yet - but she thinks it would offend anyone's sense of anticlimax at this point to kill her with a trapped bag.) She unzips it, peers inside, verifies that it contains labeled jars of blood, and transfers the jars to the bag so he can keep his backpack. She runs them into the kitchen, reorganizes the vegetable crisper, and puts the bag in next to the leftover turkey. She puts a sticky note on it that says "ASSORTED ANIMAL BLOOD - SHERLOCK'S FRIDGE BROKE - YES DAD I AM BEING SAFE THANKS" and then grabs her messenger bag and heads out to start the evening.
eversomuchfun
As soon as she's outside again, Sherlock tips her a cheerful salute and engages lurk mode.
He's probably still there. (It varies how perceptible he is when he follows her, but he has never yet failed to appear on command.)
He's probably still there. (It varies how perceptible he is when he follows her, but he has never yet failed to appear on command.)
cross_and_bow
It kind of weirds her out, but as long as he also never fails to appear from the requisite distance, she can appreciate the sense of it.
She hasn't been handling neighborhoods in any systematic pattern. She wants to inconvenience vampires, not herd them into a specific more-comfortable patch of town. The next one on her list is within easy walking distance. Scratch stuff paint paint scratch. She's tempted to whistle. She doesn't.
She hasn't been handling neighborhoods in any systematic pattern. She wants to inconvenience vampires, not herd them into a specific more-comfortable patch of town. The next one on her list is within easy walking distance. Scratch stuff paint paint scratch. She's tempted to whistle. She doesn't.