We were sitting in Sherlock and John's living room. Sherlock was pacing around the room, his hands up to his mouth.
"This is agonizing!" He shouted.
"I need a case!" John and I rolled our eyes.
"Keep rolling your eyes, John. You might just find a brain back there." Sherlock hissed. He was getting more grumpy by the minute.
"You haven't got anything?" I asked John. His eyes were focused in his laptop.
"What is it?" Sherlock asked, going over to look over John's shoulder. I stood by to read over his shoulder too. John was looking at an email. It was a picture of a single pearl. No text. No return email.
"That's the same one in the last six days." John said. Sherlock stared at the screen, concentrating.
"Do you think it's just spam?" John asked.
"No. Why do you get all the interesting emails?" Sherlock pouted.
"Who's it from?" I asked.
"It doesn't say." John explained. I held out my hands.
"Let me see." I said. He handed me the laptop. While they talked amongst themselves about the reason for the emails, I was tracing where it had come from. In a matter of seconds, I had found the address. I handed the laptop back to John.
"It's from a warehouse in Wapping owned by a Daniel Brennan." I said. They stared at me.
"You got that that quickly?" John asked. I waved my hand dismissively.
"Child's play." I said. Sherlock was already putting on his coat.
"Well, come on!" He said urgently.
"Let's go to the warehouse." I hopped up and shrugged on my leather jacket.
"Jax," Sherlock began. "It might be dangerous." My face lit up.
"Excellent." I said, racing out the door, Sherlock and John right behind me.
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~Sherlock's POV~
We stepped carefully into the warehouse. It was for the most part empty, our footsteps the only sound to be heard. Jax was in front of me, walking soundlessly on the concrete. Where did she learn to move that silently? I noted in my head.
"Split up. Look for anything suspicious."John said. We nodded, and parted ways. I went into the main office. I examined the papers scattered across the top of the desk. They were all up to date. The seat was cold and the coffee in the mug was stale. Nobody's been here for a while.
"Sherlock! John!" Jax shouted. I whipped my head up, abandoning the desk and racing towards her voice. I found her kneeling down next to something. When I looked closer, I saw that it was a body. I knelt down on the other side of it.
"Dead?" I asked. She nodded. She brushed aside the collar of his shirt, revealing a dart sticking out of the base of his neck. She yanked it out, examining the tip. I watched her curiously. John rushed up to us, kneeling down by the body.
"Curare poisoning. Death by asphyxiation, weakened skeletal muscles and paralysis of the diaphragm. The body's cold, so he's been dead around eight hours." Jax said, her eyes running over the body. John and I stared at her. There was a laptop sitting next to the body, and Jax opened it. She typed things into the computer as John phoned Lestrade so they could take the body for investigation.
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We were back at the flat, sitting around Jax as she studied the laptop. I was noting things down in my mind palace, creating a room for her. Has a mind palace, vast database. Martial arts background. Resourceful. Abnormal stealth and agility. Smoking habit. Secretive. Vertical scar on the back of her left hand, due to the needle of a hospital drip inserted in the hand. Spent a lot of time in a medical setting. Subconscious habit of twirling the silver ring on her hand, sentimental connection.
"Done." Jax said. I snapped out of my thinking state.
"The laptop belonged to a James Swandale. Sherlock, I'm assuming you've heard of him." She said. I nodded my head.
"Sorry, who?" John asked.
"James Swandale, a jewel thief. He can get into a lot of places easily because he's extremely short, a dwarf." I explained.
"Yes, anyway," Jax began. "This laptop contains various documents on his next heist. Apparently, he got his hands on plans of a house owned by Giles Conover, some pop star from the 90s." Jax explained.
"He's going to steal something?" John clarified.
"Why would he just leave this information behind for us to find? Why is he leading us there?" I thought out loud.
"It's a trap." Jax said.
"Yes..." I muttered, my mind racing. Making up my mind, I grabbed my coat.
"Come on, we're going to stakeout that house." I said, throwing on my scarf. Jax understood immediately, and followed me out the door.
Half an hour later, all three of us were sitting at a table in a restaurant by the house. We sat near the window, so the house was visible. John was scarfing down a plate of pasta. Jax was sitting quietly, headphones in both ears and an open book in her hand. She had the upbeat music pumped so loud that I could hear it through the headphones. Her eyes scanned the pages at an abnormal reading pace. So this is how she keeps herself occupied, I thought. The waiter came up to our table and refilled Jax's glass, staring at her. She didn't so much as look up. Quickened pulse, feet facing towards her, leaning in her direction. I narrowed my eyes. After he had walked away, I stared at him with disdain. It irritated me, for reasons I couldn't understand.
"How long is this going to take?" John asked, clearly annoyed.
"How am I supposed to know?" I snapped.
"You're the one who dragged us out here." John replied snappily. I saw Jax smile out of the corner of my eye. She stayed silent as we bickered. After a while, she grunted in annoyance.
"Alright, girls, calm down." She said. She yanked out her headphones and stood up.
"I'm going to step outside for a moment." She said, pulling out her lighter. She walked out of the restaurant, and out of sight.
~Jax's POV~
I stepped into the cold night air, my lighter in my hand. I pulled out a cigarette, and stuck it in my mouth. As I lit the tip, my eyes raked over the scene. People walked down the sidewalks, their coats flapping in the wind. The street glinted with rain water, and my breath was visible. As I was blissfully enjoying my cigarette, someone wearing a black hoodie bumped rudely into me. He didn't even look up or apologize. I scoffed.
"Excuse you!" I shouted after him. I looked down and noticed the small piece of paper sticking out of my pocket. I grabbed it, unfolding it impatiently. There was one word written on the crumpled paper: Pointless. I recognized the hand writing instantly. I swear my heart skipped a beat. I looked desperately after the person who had bumped into me, finding him already gone. I stared at the paper for a solid minute. I glanced at Sherlock and John through the window, still bickering. I whipped out my lighter, setting the tip of the flame to the corner of the paper. I watched as the flame licked up the paper, destroying it and the gut wrenching message. I dropped the remains of the paper on the concrete, stomping the small flame out with my boot. After staring at the expanse of the sky for a minute to clear my thoughts, I stepped back into the restaurant.
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Hours passed in agonizing silence as we waited for the jewel thief to show up. Sherlock kept his eyes glued on the window while John and I tapped our fingers impatiently on the table. We were currently sending messages to each other using Morse Code with our blinking.
Does he do this a lot? I asked.
All the time. John answered.
Wow. I'm surprised you haven't murdered him.
It takes effort.
How much longer does he plan on just sitting there?
I have no idea. I sighed.
Think we should make a break for it? I asked jokingly.
Yes. I'll knock him out while you run. John joked. We laughed silently. Sherlock looked at us suspiciously, and we both flashed innocent smiles. He turned back to the window and I sighed. The clock ticked. The minute hand crawled across the face of the clock. Tick, tick tick. You get the picture.
"There!" Sherlock said suddenly, pouncing out the door. I sprang into action, racing after him with John trailing behind me. We sprinted across the street to the house, making cars screech to a halt to avoid hitting us. We slammed into the front door, which was locked securely. Sherlock inspected the doorknob.
"He didn't come in this way." He said, spinning around himself. He looked for another way into the building. I spun around, spotting the entrance.
"Up there!" I said, speeding up to it. It was an old rusty ladder leading up to the roof. I stared to climb it as it creaked under my weight. After a moment of hesitation, the two men followed me. We climbed up onto the rooftop, my eyes instantly scanning the area. I saw two shadows scurrying along in the distance. Sherlock sprinted towards the shadows, John and I right behind him. The rooftop was crowded with railing, and I saw a head pop up suddenly. The small man raised a wooden tube to his mouth.
"Duck!" I shouted. All three of us dropped to the ground as a dart whizzed past my head. The little man ran along the roof, disappearing behind a wall. I recovered first, sprinting to the wall. As I turned the corner, a shadow was cast across my face. An enormous man towered over me, his muscles bulging from his black clothes. His head was bald and egg-shaped, his face hard and determined. He was a human tree, far taller then Sherlock, who was pretty tall. My mouth opened in surprise, desperately reaching for the gun hidden under my shirt. I recognized him immediately, I keep an up to date file on serial killers and assassins. Before I could get to the gun, his huge meaty hands clenched around my throat. He lifted me up, my feet disconnecting from the ground. I heard Sherlock and John gasp behind me. I kicked my feet in a frenzy while black spots danced across my vision. I felt my foot connect with his chin, causing him to loose his grip. I fell to the ground, choking and gasping. I looked behind me to see Sherlock and John running towards me, dodging poisoned darts. As John closed in on the little dart shooting man, Sherlock raced over to me. I jumped to my feet, setting my eyes on the giant. He had a smirk on his face. I cracked my knuckles and rolled my head to the side, cracking my neck.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.
"Getting ready to kick his ass." I said, shaking my hands out. The huge man took a step forward, challenging me. I smirked.
"He'll crush you, you can't beat him!" Sherlock said.
"Watch me." I said, shooting forward. The giant swung a punch, which I dodged at the last second. My eyes scanned him, analyzing weaknesses. Strong but slow punches, weak balance. I circled around him, making him whip around. He swung punch after punch, which I dodged effortlessly. I let him strike at me, draining his energy. He paused for a split second, catching his breath. I landed a solid kick to his knee. Gravity took its toll and he sank to his knees. I grabbed his head and brought my knee up powerfully, connecting with his nose. The impact jolted him, and he flopped to the ground. Unconscious with a bloody nose. I tossed my hair over my shoulder, looking at Sherlock. He stood with his mouth slightly agape, eyes wide. I smirked. Oh, yeah that's me. Taking out 300 pound giants with only two blows. Who's a badass? I am! I sung in my head. After my moment of barely concealed badass-ery, I raced over to John who was gaining on the little dart man. He drew his gun, pointing it at the small man. I grabbed my gun from under my shirt, joining John.
"Get your hands up!" John shouted. The small man dropped the wooden tube and put his hands up. I turned to the giant, who was still unconscious.
"The bigger they are, the harder they fall." I muttered to myself. Sherlock pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket and clicked them around the little man's wrists.
"Call Lestrade." Sherlock said to John. He nodded and whipped out his cell phone.
"What do we do about Goliath?" I asked, gesturing to the giant with my gun.
"I'm sure you can handle him." Sherlock said, slightly annoyed. In a matter of minutes, Scotland Yard was there. They arrested the two men and whisked them away to jail. Sherlock, John, and I were standing together, watching as the police car sped away.
"Do you always carry handcuffs?" I couldn't help but ask Sherlock.
"Do you always carry a gun?" He replied.
"I asked you first." I countered.
"What are you twelve?" Sherlock said.
"Yeah, on a scale of one to ten." I said. John laughed, and I high-fived him. Even though Sherlock was narrowing his eyes I saw the corner of his mouth quirk. Lestrade sauntered over to us.
"Would you like to explain to me as to how you took down the man three times your size?" He asked. John looked at Sherlock, who looked at me, and I smiled.
"It's all about technique." I said. After all the commotion was cleared, we caught a cab back to Baker Street. John sat in his chair, blogging about the adventures of the day while Sherlock paced around the room.
"They were both waiting for us on the rooftop." He muttered to himself. I entered the living room, a cup of tea in my hand. I sank down in Sherlock's armchair, causing him to raise an eyebrow at me. I sipped my tea nonchalantly.
"Didn't you recognize the big one, Sherlock?" I asked. He looked at me in confusion.
"Phil Dickinson, also known as The Headcrusher." I explained. Sherlock closed his eyes.
"Ah yes, obvious." He mumbled.
"Wait, so you took on a professional assassin just for the fun of it?" John said to me. I took a sip of tea.
"I don't get intimidated easily." I said simply. "And it was exciting! I do love a challenge."
"You're crazy." John said, with a smile.
"Yes, but that's why you like me." I replied. Sherlock was still pacing the room.
"Oh, of course!" He shouted suddenly. We both looked up at him.
"What?" John asked.
"Someone hired them to kill us!" Sherlock said with the same tone as an excited child.
"Someone wanted me dead so instead of hiring an assassin, they hired two jewel thieves! It's obvious!" He concluded.
"You're awfully excited about almost being killed." I commented. Sherlock flopped down on the couch.
"Oh, not really. It happens all the time." He said. I nodded my head.
"Alright then." I said.
"But who wanted you dead, Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock waved his hand in dismiss.
"It's irrelevant, boring." He said, picking up his violin. John rolled his eyes, continuing to type. Sherlock plucked at his violin strings while John updated his blog.
"Hey Jax?" John asked.
"Hmm?" I replied.
"Am I allowed to use your name on the blog?" He asked.
"If you don't mind getting a visit from Mycroft, a few government agencies and/or some very well trained assassins." I replied. John looked as of he was about to ask me a million questions, but then thought the better of it.
"So, that's a no then." He said, his fingers resuming on the keyboard. Sherlock was staring at me, his eyes narrowed. I could tell he was thinking hard. Maybe I shouldn't have said that, I thought. I brushed it off. Sherlock continued to play his violin as I listened. I leaned my head back on the chair, letting my eyes close. It had been a long day, but life at 221B was just beginning.