Chapter Text
Edmund Pevensie lifted a cigar to his mouth, staring vacantly at the wall. A large and decorative lighter was drawn from his pocket, and the flame was hovering an inch away from its goal when a man staggered along the alleyway and crashed into him, knocking him into the wall behind him. Edmund hastily extinguished the flame and righted the man, who was apparently drunk. Scowling darkly, he put away both lighter and cigar, and guided the man through the alley to the lighted street beyond. With a muttered curse, Edmund released him and strode back through the alley, a piece of paper now concealed in one hand.
Once in the darkest part, he strained to read the brief text.
221B Baker Street, nine tomorrow morning. SH
He blinked. Holmes had never yet asked him to meet him at his rooms, no matter how urgent the case. They'd always met somewhere else. Neither wanted their collaboration to come to light, which was why such roundabout methods had to be used. None of Holmes' other associates knew anything about him apart from the name everybody gave him: the Shadow.
No one, apart from Holmes, Watson and Lucy, knew his true identity, and Edmund planned to keep it that way. Even the man who slipped him the paper didn't know who he was, only that a particularly ornate lighter would be used.
Thinking of the lighter, Edmund flicked it on and in a moment had reduced the paper to ashes before hastening out of the alley again. If he was to go on another case tomorrow, he needed sleep.
Ducking through the dim crowds of people, Edmund made his way home.
"That again?" Lucy's voice was quiet and resigned.
"That again," Edmund confirmed. "At nine."
"I'll pack you lunch. And, Ed?"
"What?"
"Stay safe."
Edmund hesitated for only an instant outside 221B, Baker Street. Confidence was so much less noticeable than hesitation, and if anyone had mastered blending in, it would be Edmund, through both his lifetimes.
The door opened on his first knock, and he was presented with the sight of Holmes, perhaps even more pale than usual, his gaze keen and eager. "Pevensie."
"Holmes," he greeted him briefly, stepping inside without balking. True, it was his first time entering the place, but neither of them wished for gawkers. Once it was shut, Edmund said more warmly, "My dear Holmes, how are you?"
"Come, there is no time to be lost," said Holmes rapidly. "You ought to have arrived earlier, for a new development has arisen that requires the utmost speed." While he spoke, he had swung into another room and out again, rapidly attiring himself for the outdoors. A hat drawn low over his brow completed his toilet. "I will explain on our journey. Watson has fetched a cab. The case is an interesting one." He hurried out of the door again, Edmund following. In a lower tone, Holmes added, "I trust you brought your disguise?"
"Certainly."
"You must don it in the cab, for there is no time to be lost."
Edmund greeted Watson as the two of them climbed into the cab that had just drawn up beside them. Holmes brushed aside the pleasantries. "You have heard, I trust, of the disappearance of the cabman some time ago, and his wife immediately following?"
Edmund blinked. "Are you referring to the Unexplained Disappearance?"
"I am, if that was the maudlin name Watson assigned it," he said with a glance in his companion's direction. Watson nodded. "I have been summoned for something that bears a resemblance to that case. In which a boy and a girl went through a gate and, instead of them, allegedly returned three warriors and a lion."
Edmund blinked again. "You believe the stories?"
"I have investigated it and have not yet reached a conclusion," said Holmes chidingly. "You are far too likely to spring to conclusions, just like Watson."
Edmund shook his head slightly, once more wondering how he had ever managed to stumble into their company. Holmes had been just starting out when the Professor was young: Edmund was full forty years Holmes' junior, as the Professor's appearance belied his age. And somehow, very shortly after their return from Narnia, Holmes had discovered Edmund, who had rapidly risen through the ranks of the Irregulars and into Holmes' confidence. Ever apt at reading people, Edmund suspected that he was second only to Watson in Holmes' affection.
"But back to this case," Holmes continued. "It is at a peculiar institute of learning known as Experiment House, where, as far as I have ascertained, the Head is mentally unstable, thus casting all her aspersions into doubt. The students in question appear to be (which does not mean that they are) ordinary and unassuming, apart from a dramatic change in the boy during the last year. This I intend to investigate. It is worth noting that both are strong-willed enough to be a target of their peers, who tend towards the bullying side of things, apparently due in part to the Head's influence. However, human nature must not be ruled out. The students are in the same class and have no recorded interaction before the event."
Edmund repressed a question he longed to ask.
"Afterwards, they appear to be close friends in a matter of days. There is something deeper at work here." Holmes leaned forward and assessed Edmund, who had been hurriedly robing himself in his customary Shadow garb, from head to toe. "Your disguise is sufficient, Shadow. And we appear to have arrived." The cab rattled to a stop as he spoke. "The students in question are Jill Pole and Eustace Scrubb."
Edmund, getting up to spring out, paused for an instant. "Eustace Scrubb is my cousin," he said in a low voice, so as not to be heard by others.
Holmes glanced at him equally briefly. "Then you may, perhaps, shed further light on this case," he replied, and alighted.