A Child's Entertainment 1 of 7
A Child's Entertainment
Rating: PG
Chapter: 1 of 7
Summary: A trip to London entails: a bus tour, snarling about said bus tour, a giant ferris wheel, a scavenger hunt, a doctor, a consultant detective, and a deranged psychopath. Peregrine and Darren know how to take a vacation.
Disclaimer: While Perry and Darren are native residents of my head and the Falconry therein contained, Sherlock and all related characters are merely visitors... Y'know... when they bother to show up.
Follow That Jet
"You're kidding. Right?"
Peregrine hissed in through his teeth, coffee scalding his hands. He put down a foot to stop the chair from spinning and glared up at the cause. With an eye roll to Darren, he switched the coffee to one hand and wiped the other off on his formerly clean suit sleeve. Not that he liked suits, but damn it all. "Ah, never saw the point."
Darren let out an exasperated sigh and spun the damn chair. Yet again. Once it had settled to face the desk--Peregrine’s bloody desk--he pushed himself up onto the desk and made himself comfortable. Because that fit the atmosphere of the Police Station so damned well. And yet? No one cared. Even Peregrine knew better than to bother commenting.
"There doesn't have to be a point. Everyone should leave the country at least once in their life."
"Ah, why?"
"You. Are. Hopeless. We're getting you a Passport ordered. Today."
"There’s no blo-"
"Quiet, you don't have a say in this. I think... Ireland would be good."
"For the beer?"
"It's not all about the beer. There's whiskey too." Darren laughed, voice making it clear this was some sort of quote. Then he went to a much more serious, and yet somehow still gleeful expression. "And besides, it's the motherland."
Peregrine rolled his eyes, sipping at the coffee when he decided he was no longer in danger of a spin causing it to splash into his eyes. "Yours. Not bloody well mine."
Darren snickered. "That's it! London too. It'll be the only place on Earth they'll realize you're American."
"And think I'm mocking them? Ah, no thanks."
"Oh pish. I doubt they'll even notice your little ‘bloodies’ and ‘po-tay...tuh.’ No. ‘taahh-toes,’” Darren paused to reach and ruffle Peregrine’s hair, ignoring the snarl this earned. “Regardless, I'd say it's settled."
He jumped off the desk and stretched, grinning broadly. "Now if you'll excuse me I'm just going to put in our vacation requests."
As Darren headed off, his back made a decidedly tempting target. Sadly, Peregrine couldn't find anything in immediate reach to launch that direction. He settled himself for a few moments of
unmolested coffee drinking instead.
----------
Peregrine had wanted to go the whole time. That was the only explanation for it. It didn't matter that the kid was still grumbling, or that Darren had threatened him with child and puppy-sitting to convince him to fill out the information for his Passport. These things were all trivial.
"So. I'm taking back that thing I said about them realizing you're American. You don't speak enough. Talk more."
"No."
"Bah." Darren pulled the coat more closely around his collar. The view from the top of the tour bus was great, but it had started drizzling on them. What? He wasn't getting any younger. And unlike Peregrine he did care about things like being sopping wet all day. "You forgot your jacket. Didn't you? I warned you you should bring it."
Peregrine just gave him a glare.
"Kid, if you were 10 years younger I'd be giving you a time out for attitude. This is supposed to be a fun trip. I mean come on. Look at this, all of it. It's history."
"The tour guide described people being hung."
"And?"
"I don't trust a bloody thing he says."
Darren let out a dramatic sigh and picked up the kid's sulking routine as he looked about through the misting rain to take in the sights. It didn't last long though, it couldn't. Darren never had been very good at sulking in public. "Oh, this next stop has the London Eye. Come on. I bet the view is great." Darren hit the button, neglecting to mention he'd just plain appreciate some place dry from which to enjoy said view.
After they stopped he could hear Peregrine grumbling something or other and leaned over as he stood, resting his elbows on the kid’s shoulder and whispering in his ear. "Lighten up. Alright? A day of just having fun won't kill you. I'm serious." He stood the rest of the way, squeezing Peregrine's shoulder and then pulling him up and rushing off the bus before it started moving again.
They made their way through the colorful crowd. Darren utilized grins and nods, stepping to one side of a family, then pausing and letting a couple teens pass. Peregrine’s means of passage was something Darren had never quite figured out. Neither did anyone have to step out of his way, nor did he seem to step out of his own path. However, it appeared this method was universal rather than merely domestic, given that there were no crashes behind him. Always a plus.
Actually, it ended up being him that bumped into someone. A former soldier maybe? He couldn't be sure, some people always carried themselves straight. He tried to apologize, but the man interrupted with one of his own and kept moving, rushing to keep up with someone else already past them.
Suddenly, Peregrine occupied the spot beside him, it might have sent him jumping into someone else, but there were things you just grew accustomed to eventually. "You ah, were wrong."
"What?"
"Don't need to talk more."
Darren paused for a moment as he processed in his brain what on earth Peregrine was talking about before rushing to catch up. "Oh, and you know that how?"
Darren sighed when Peregrine shrugged and kept the explanation to himself.
"Hopeless. Utterly hopeless." The saddest part of it all? Darren was pretty sure he'd caught a glimpse of a grin from Peregrine out of the corner of his eye when he'd said that. Sadistic brat.
----------
Peregrine was finally dry. That wasn’t important. Or was it?
Darren had enjoyed the giant bloody Ferris wheel. It had been dry too, but someone on it had kept giving them weird looks. It had set Peregrine on edge.
The warmth from the blanket surrounded him.
After the enclosed Ferris Wheel, going back into the chilly rain had been more torture than Peregrine had cared to admit, but Darren picked up on it and shoved his coat over Peregrine’s shoulders. Peregrine could have killed him for that, but he was too bloody distracted. Why the hell was that bastard from the ride still around?
The noises were all wrong for the hotel.
Darren had taken his bloody time noticing their tail; it wasn’t until after a ride on the tube led them to get off at the same station. Damn, Peregrine was glad he wasn’t just being more paranoid than normal. They’d let the crowd separate him from them. By then the man had changed his purpose, bolting as soon as he was up the stairs, leaving them both to either follow or ignore. They were cops, off-duty and far from home, but the instincts were there. They followed.
And damnit if his head wasn’t pounding.
He’d led them rapidly away from people, away from anything. Peregrine had faltered in his pursuit. Trap. It smelled like a bloody trap. But why the hell would someone try to trap them? Still, local police sounded like a good idea. A really bloody good idea, he just had to signal Darren.
Something was just plain off.
He’d turned. And...
He shot up, groaning, scraping elbows on concrete even through the coat. Darren’s coat. Not a blanket. Not the hotel. Damnit. Where the hell was he?
After a long moment in the semi-darkness he oriented himself. Exactly where he’d been when he’d turned to signal Darren. Or rather, tried. The memory of the attempt blacked out in a rather abrupt fashion right about then.
“Darren?” As he stood, he checked through his pockets. Someone had taken the liberty of emptying them. Just, bloody, lovely.
Darren hadn’t been that far behind him. If they’d been mugged, he should still be here. Right?
Peregrine closed his eyes, trying to get a clear image of the pursuit, where trees had been, signs, light posts. Damnit. Here, Darren would have been here when he’d stopped running.
Furrowing his brow, he knelt. There was some blood there, but not much and scuff marks from dark shoes scraping concrete. Damnit, he wasn’t some super tracker who could pick up what each thing meant.
He had to go talk to the local authorities though, whatever the reason, Darren had been dragged off instead of merely robbed. That much was obvious.
He stood again, everything going white for a second. Minute? Hell, it could have been longer. He’d swayed by the time he could see again, but at least he’d not fallen. Right. Cops. How?
There had to be a phone box. Somewhere. They seemed to be bloody everywhere. Hell, he was certain he’d passed one. He reluctantly headed back, following winding streets. It didn’t take bloody much of that before he was confused as hell. Damn his head.
There. There it was.
A paper fluttered loose when he picked up the receiver, and he furrowed his brow. Curiosity, and a touch of paranoia brought him to hang up so he could reach it. It might not be directed at him, but damnit, that seemed unlikely.
“I’ll call you later.”
He almost discarded it as useless, but for one thing--one little damn thing--a dark brown speck that might well be blood on it. Just one, and he couldn’t even tell for sure in the light. So he pocketed it. What the hell did it even mean?
He picked up the receiver again, ready to ignore the note, except there was no dial tone. Maybe coincidence. Maybe not.
He slammed the butt of his palm against the glass. Durable glass. Good thing. Hissing, he stepped back out into the night. He was ready to head back, to look for further clues, when the taxi cab, an official looking one at that, pulled up and rolled down the window. “Peregrine Black?”
He froze mid-step, turning. “Yes?”
The cabbie laughed, “Guess your friend wasn’t daft giving me an exact spot.” He held out a keycard to the hotel. “Your fare’s paid, he said you’d forgotten your wallet.”
Peregrine took the card and eyed the driver warily. “I ah. I’ll be fine.”
He shrugged in response. “You’re paid for, but if you’re sure.”
“I am fine, but ah, could you describe my friend?”
It was the cabby’s turn to eye him. “Dark hair, about your height.”
“American?”
“No... You alright?”
Once more Peregrine waved him off, and after a moment he drove away, leaving Peregrine to his own thoughts. Right. Back to the hotel.
He wanted to check out the scene here more, but damnit, the sudden appearance of the keycard concerned him. As did a ‘friend’ sending a cab from the hotel for that matter. Not that he was certain they really had; if he was he would have taken up the ride.
Maybe he should have. The walk back was going to waste valuable time, damnit. Ah well, nothing to do but get started. And keep his eyes open.
[ToC] [Next>
Rating: PG
Chapter: 1 of 7
Summary: A trip to London entails: a bus tour, snarling about said bus tour, a giant ferris wheel, a scavenger hunt, a doctor, a consultant detective, and a deranged psychopath. Peregrine and Darren know how to take a vacation.
Disclaimer: While Perry and Darren are native residents of my head and the Falconry therein contained, Sherlock and all related characters are merely visitors... Y'know... when they bother to show up.
Follow That Jet
"You're kidding. Right?"
Peregrine hissed in through his teeth, coffee scalding his hands. He put down a foot to stop the chair from spinning and glared up at the cause. With an eye roll to Darren, he switched the coffee to one hand and wiped the other off on his formerly clean suit sleeve. Not that he liked suits, but damn it all. "Ah, never saw the point."
Darren let out an exasperated sigh and spun the damn chair. Yet again. Once it had settled to face the desk--Peregrine’s bloody desk--he pushed himself up onto the desk and made himself comfortable. Because that fit the atmosphere of the Police Station so damned well. And yet? No one cared. Even Peregrine knew better than to bother commenting.
"There doesn't have to be a point. Everyone should leave the country at least once in their life."
"Ah, why?"
"You. Are. Hopeless. We're getting you a Passport ordered. Today."
"There’s no blo-"
"Quiet, you don't have a say in this. I think... Ireland would be good."
"For the beer?"
"It's not all about the beer. There's whiskey too." Darren laughed, voice making it clear this was some sort of quote. Then he went to a much more serious, and yet somehow still gleeful expression. "And besides, it's the motherland."
Peregrine rolled his eyes, sipping at the coffee when he decided he was no longer in danger of a spin causing it to splash into his eyes. "Yours. Not bloody well mine."
Darren snickered. "That's it! London too. It'll be the only place on Earth they'll realize you're American."
"And think I'm mocking them? Ah, no thanks."
"Oh pish. I doubt they'll even notice your little ‘bloodies’ and ‘po-tay...tuh.’ No. ‘taahh-toes,’” Darren paused to reach and ruffle Peregrine’s hair, ignoring the snarl this earned. “Regardless, I'd say it's settled."
He jumped off the desk and stretched, grinning broadly. "Now if you'll excuse me I'm just going to put in our vacation requests."
As Darren headed off, his back made a decidedly tempting target. Sadly, Peregrine couldn't find anything in immediate reach to launch that direction. He settled himself for a few moments of
unmolested coffee drinking instead.
----------
Peregrine had wanted to go the whole time. That was the only explanation for it. It didn't matter that the kid was still grumbling, or that Darren had threatened him with child and puppy-sitting to convince him to fill out the information for his Passport. These things were all trivial.
"So. I'm taking back that thing I said about them realizing you're American. You don't speak enough. Talk more."
"No."
"Bah." Darren pulled the coat more closely around his collar. The view from the top of the tour bus was great, but it had started drizzling on them. What? He wasn't getting any younger. And unlike Peregrine he did care about things like being sopping wet all day. "You forgot your jacket. Didn't you? I warned you you should bring it."
Peregrine just gave him a glare.
"Kid, if you were 10 years younger I'd be giving you a time out for attitude. This is supposed to be a fun trip. I mean come on. Look at this, all of it. It's history."
"The tour guide described people being hung."
"And?"
"I don't trust a bloody thing he says."
Darren let out a dramatic sigh and picked up the kid's sulking routine as he looked about through the misting rain to take in the sights. It didn't last long though, it couldn't. Darren never had been very good at sulking in public. "Oh, this next stop has the London Eye. Come on. I bet the view is great." Darren hit the button, neglecting to mention he'd just plain appreciate some place dry from which to enjoy said view.
After they stopped he could hear Peregrine grumbling something or other and leaned over as he stood, resting his elbows on the kid’s shoulder and whispering in his ear. "Lighten up. Alright? A day of just having fun won't kill you. I'm serious." He stood the rest of the way, squeezing Peregrine's shoulder and then pulling him up and rushing off the bus before it started moving again.
They made their way through the colorful crowd. Darren utilized grins and nods, stepping to one side of a family, then pausing and letting a couple teens pass. Peregrine’s means of passage was something Darren had never quite figured out. Neither did anyone have to step out of his way, nor did he seem to step out of his own path. However, it appeared this method was universal rather than merely domestic, given that there were no crashes behind him. Always a plus.
Actually, it ended up being him that bumped into someone. A former soldier maybe? He couldn't be sure, some people always carried themselves straight. He tried to apologize, but the man interrupted with one of his own and kept moving, rushing to keep up with someone else already past them.
Suddenly, Peregrine occupied the spot beside him, it might have sent him jumping into someone else, but there were things you just grew accustomed to eventually. "You ah, were wrong."
"What?"
"Don't need to talk more."
Darren paused for a moment as he processed in his brain what on earth Peregrine was talking about before rushing to catch up. "Oh, and you know that how?"
Darren sighed when Peregrine shrugged and kept the explanation to himself.
"Hopeless. Utterly hopeless." The saddest part of it all? Darren was pretty sure he'd caught a glimpse of a grin from Peregrine out of the corner of his eye when he'd said that. Sadistic brat.
----------
Peregrine was finally dry. That wasn’t important. Or was it?
Darren had enjoyed the giant bloody Ferris wheel. It had been dry too, but someone on it had kept giving them weird looks. It had set Peregrine on edge.
The warmth from the blanket surrounded him.
After the enclosed Ferris Wheel, going back into the chilly rain had been more torture than Peregrine had cared to admit, but Darren picked up on it and shoved his coat over Peregrine’s shoulders. Peregrine could have killed him for that, but he was too bloody distracted. Why the hell was that bastard from the ride still around?
The noises were all wrong for the hotel.
Darren had taken his bloody time noticing their tail; it wasn’t until after a ride on the tube led them to get off at the same station. Damn, Peregrine was glad he wasn’t just being more paranoid than normal. They’d let the crowd separate him from them. By then the man had changed his purpose, bolting as soon as he was up the stairs, leaving them both to either follow or ignore. They were cops, off-duty and far from home, but the instincts were there. They followed.
And damnit if his head wasn’t pounding.
He’d led them rapidly away from people, away from anything. Peregrine had faltered in his pursuit. Trap. It smelled like a bloody trap. But why the hell would someone try to trap them? Still, local police sounded like a good idea. A really bloody good idea, he just had to signal Darren.
Something was just plain off.
He’d turned. And...
He shot up, groaning, scraping elbows on concrete even through the coat. Darren’s coat. Not a blanket. Not the hotel. Damnit. Where the hell was he?
After a long moment in the semi-darkness he oriented himself. Exactly where he’d been when he’d turned to signal Darren. Or rather, tried. The memory of the attempt blacked out in a rather abrupt fashion right about then.
“Darren?” As he stood, he checked through his pockets. Someone had taken the liberty of emptying them. Just, bloody, lovely.
Darren hadn’t been that far behind him. If they’d been mugged, he should still be here. Right?
Peregrine closed his eyes, trying to get a clear image of the pursuit, where trees had been, signs, light posts. Damnit. Here, Darren would have been here when he’d stopped running.
Furrowing his brow, he knelt. There was some blood there, but not much and scuff marks from dark shoes scraping concrete. Damnit, he wasn’t some super tracker who could pick up what each thing meant.
He had to go talk to the local authorities though, whatever the reason, Darren had been dragged off instead of merely robbed. That much was obvious.
He stood again, everything going white for a second. Minute? Hell, it could have been longer. He’d swayed by the time he could see again, but at least he’d not fallen. Right. Cops. How?
There had to be a phone box. Somewhere. They seemed to be bloody everywhere. Hell, he was certain he’d passed one. He reluctantly headed back, following winding streets. It didn’t take bloody much of that before he was confused as hell. Damn his head.
There. There it was.
A paper fluttered loose when he picked up the receiver, and he furrowed his brow. Curiosity, and a touch of paranoia brought him to hang up so he could reach it. It might not be directed at him, but damnit, that seemed unlikely.
“I’ll call you later.”
He almost discarded it as useless, but for one thing--one little damn thing--a dark brown speck that might well be blood on it. Just one, and he couldn’t even tell for sure in the light. So he pocketed it. What the hell did it even mean?
He picked up the receiver again, ready to ignore the note, except there was no dial tone. Maybe coincidence. Maybe not.
He slammed the butt of his palm against the glass. Durable glass. Good thing. Hissing, he stepped back out into the night. He was ready to head back, to look for further clues, when the taxi cab, an official looking one at that, pulled up and rolled down the window. “Peregrine Black?”
He froze mid-step, turning. “Yes?”
The cabbie laughed, “Guess your friend wasn’t daft giving me an exact spot.” He held out a keycard to the hotel. “Your fare’s paid, he said you’d forgotten your wallet.”
Peregrine took the card and eyed the driver warily. “I ah. I’ll be fine.”
He shrugged in response. “You’re paid for, but if you’re sure.”
“I am fine, but ah, could you describe my friend?”
It was the cabby’s turn to eye him. “Dark hair, about your height.”
“American?”
“No... You alright?”
Once more Peregrine waved him off, and after a moment he drove away, leaving Peregrine to his own thoughts. Right. Back to the hotel.
He wanted to check out the scene here more, but damnit, the sudden appearance of the keycard concerned him. As did a ‘friend’ sending a cab from the hotel for that matter. Not that he was certain they really had; if he was he would have taken up the ride.
Maybe he should have. The walk back was going to waste valuable time, damnit. Ah well, nothing to do but get started. And keep his eyes open.
[ToC] [Next>