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Susato awoke with the distinct sensation that something was wrong.
Her martial arts instructor had always told her she had a hunter’s instincts; a razor-sharp awareness of her surroundings that informed of every movement, every breath out of place. Her grandmother had always fretted at the compliment, lamenting that an upstanding young lady had no need of such faculties. But it made Susato glow.
She had come to rely on it far more since alighting on the shores of Great Britain; in the courtroom it had proved indispensable. It was a useful skill to possess in a combat situation, yes, but an even more useful one in sensing someone trying to avoid one.
It was this feeling that had stirred Susato to wakefulness. The moment she opened her eyes she felt it, that warm, itchy tingling in her palms as though she were trapping a tiny swarm of flies.
She did not hesitate.
In an almost singular motion she leapt from her bed and threw the yukata slung over the back of a chair across her shoulders. Then, with her back pressed firmly against the wall, she inched her way toward the door that led into her and Naruhodo-san’s shared office. For once, she wished she could thank him for the ever-present whirlwind of clutter that inhabited it – it would be just perfect if the possible intruder were to brain themselves on a wayward stack of case notes. Of course, that would mean never hearing the end of it from Naruhodo-san, but… she could live with that.
When she reached the door she paused to take in a slow, tremulous inhale through her nostrils. For Iris and Mr. Sholmes. How terrible it would be, she told herself, to have slept through a robbery of the famed 221B Baker Street! Or worse, to have been awake but to have sat by and done nothing!
With this murmured affirmation she closed her hand over the handle and threw herself out into the moon-drenched office with a cry. With any luck the shock would deter the intruder and they would flee without either of them having glimpsed the other’s face.
The sight that greeted her was beyond any of her expectations, however. Gina, silver-haired in the moonlight, was half leaning out of the large window that looked out onto the deserted street below. Upon sighting Susato hurtling toward her she spun on her heels, and, with the agility of an alleycat, danced out of her path without so much as a whimper. When Susato righted herself, though, she could see the other girl was breathing hard, and had a white-knuckled grasp on the tails of her neckerchief.
“Sooze!” The name escaped her in a gasp of relief. “What’re you doin’? Attacking me?”
“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ I live here!” Susato crossed her arms over her chest, unable to keep the upward lilt of indignation from her tone. “I thought you were a robber!”
At this, Gina grinned. “Well. Can’t really say anythin’ in my defence there.” She chuckled. “Not liftin’ any of you or Oddo’s rubbish though, relax.”
“It’s not-“ Susato halted her instinctive retort. She could see the intended trajectory of their conversation in the mocking curve of Gina’s smirk. She would not be distracted.
“Nice try.” She drew herself up. “I was in your pickpocketing lessons mere hours ago, you know. I know a tactic when I see one.”
Gina laughed. “Alright, alright. Fair cop.” She leaned back against the windowsill with a nonchalance Susato thought was rather exaggerated. “Thanks for not smashin’ my face in, anyway.”
“Any time,” Susato replied rigidly. She peered around her out the open window. All was still, save for the flicker of the streetlamps and a small lantern outside Mr. Windibank’s. “So. What are you up to then, if not your usual night-time pursuits?”
“Nothin’.”
Susato gave her an appraising look. Gina met her piercing gaze with ease, arms folded. There existed no trace of guilt in her expression: only the quietly brazen look of a person used to getting caught. You’re the one worried about what might be going on here, her eyes said. What are you going to do about it?
Susato was never one to back down from a challenge.
“Alright then,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone, and stepped up to stand by Gina’s side at the windowsill.
She leaned out into the night, shivering at the blast of cold air that lanced through the thin material of her yukata. Still no movement except for the gentle undulation of the gaslit streetlamps and the lantern outside Windibank’s. It was to here that she turned her attention; when she focused, she could just about make out the corner of the shop in which the lantern was situated. It sat bathed in a flickering pool of lamplight, the various knick-knacks that adorned it casting strange shadows up the walls. If one were especially determined, she realised, it was very possible to hazard a guess at what exactly each of those items were.
Ah.
“You can’t steal from poor old Mr. Windibank!” she exclaimed.
“What?!” Gina whirled to face her. “ That’s what you think I was at?”
“Well, I…” Her words trailed off in the face of the rage that contorted Gina’s features. She rounded on her, bared teeth glinting in the moonlight, and for the first time that night a cool trickle of genuine fear seeped into Susato’s veins.
Gina seemed to notice the shift in her expression. She backed off, turning to sullenly resume her strange vigil.
“It’s not that,” she growled.
Susato dipped her head, ashamed. “I’m sorry, Gina. I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s for Iris, right?” Gina cut across her with a snarl. “The manuscript. I-I wanna check that it’s there in the shop. Or not there. I wasn’t gonna steal nothin’!”
Susato baulked. “Gina!” she gasped. “You can’t!”
“You gonna stop me?”
“Gina…” she opened her hands, imploring. “Is that what Iris would want?”
Gina’s lips thinned. “Iris don’t know what she wants,” she muttered. “She’s just a tot, ain’t she? But she’s a smart ‘un. And she deserves to know if that ‘olmes fella is pullin’ the wool over.”
“Iris trusts Mr. Sholmes.” Susato’s tone glimmered with an edge of steel. “That’s between them. You shouldn’t interfere.”
“Yeah well, you would say that, wouldn’t ya?” Gina’s lips curled into a bitter little sneer. “You ‘aven’t got a clue, Ms. High n’ Mighty. I’m ‘elpin’ Iris out - makin’ sure she ain’t being taken advantage of by some tosser. They’re all the same, them bleedin’ grownups. An’ Iris is like me, no parents of her own. She needs someone to watch out for ‘er.”
Susato bristled. “You know nothing about me,” she hissed, heat pulsing at the base of her neck. Stay calm. “So keep your misguided assumptions to yourself. Also, like I just said, Iris trusts Mr. Sholmes. You have no right to question that on her behalf.”
“Then who does, eh?”
“Nobody. Nobody except for Iris.” Susato bit her lip against a sudden well of emotion and turned back to the window.. “That’s what trusting somebody entails - knowing they have your best interests at heart even if you can’t see how in the moment. Even if they’re not even there for you to ask.”
She could feel Gina’s gaze burning into the side of her cheek. The silence hung between them, cool and impenetrable as stone, until Gina let out a quiet snort. “Well, I wouldn’t know much about that, would I? Ain’t ever ‘ad the luxury of not askin’ questions.” She sighed. “No-one’s ever been lookin’ out for me like that.”
Susato’s eyes tightened. “What about us?” she murmured. “Naruhodo-san, Iris… me? What are we doing, do you think?”
At this, Gina withdrew, drawing her arms protectively around herself. “Yeah well, that’s what this is about, ain’t it?” she mumbled, leaning forward to allow her hair to dangle over her face. “Iris has my back. I’m… I’m just tryna’ do the same for ‘er. I dunno what else I can do.”
“Gina…” Susato reached out to place a hesitant hand on her shoulder. Gina flinched at her touch, but otherwise did not move away. Susato took this as permission to inch closer.
“I think that the best thing you could do for Iris is not to pry.” She smoothed a few stray strands of hair from between her shoulder blades in gentle, coaxing motions. “Have faith in her judgement. Believe her - trust her, even - when she says she trusts in Mr. Sholmes. Even if you can’t quite understand why.”
Beneath her fingers, Gina stiffened. “What you talkin’ down to me like that for?” She whirled away from her, sudden indignation glittering in her glare. “I’m not no fool, Sooze. You’re bein’ a bloody hypocrite.”
Susato blinked. “I-I beg your pardon?” she asked, scrambling in the face of such abrupt and unbridled animosity. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t act stupid. I know you ain’t.” Gina jabbed an accusing finger beneath her chin. “You swan in here with yer upturned nose and big, posh words and you think I won’t cop it’s all just talk?” Her eyes narrowed. “I may not have some fancy book with all them facts, but I know when I’m bein’ made a mug of.”
“Gina, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Susato took a rapid step away from her, her own expression hardening. “Explain yourself.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell ‘Oddo about how you knew the name of that manuscript? The Hound of… wotsit…” she shook her head. “Don’t matter. All that matters is you wouldn’t tell ‘im, would ya? And why not?” She reeled backwards to place her hands on her hips in triumph. “Cos you don’t know what ‘e’d do with that information, if ‘e ‘ad it. So much for trustin’ intentions, eh? You didn’t even give ‘im a chance.”
“I… it’s not…” Susato trailed off, wrong-footed. How could she divulge to Naruhodo-san information that she did not even have herself - in its entirety, at least? Not even she knew how that blasted manuscript had ended up on her father’s desk. And he had forbidden her from speaking or even asking about it.
But there was no way to satisfactorily explain this to Gina.
“That’s a different situation,” she settled on, though even to herself the words sounded half-hearted. “I… I don’t think that it’s my secret to tell.”
Gina arched an eyebrow. “Oh, how very noble,” she mocked, folding her hands behind her head. “Admit it, Sooze. You don’t trust ‘im to know what you know.” She tossed her head. “Or maybe you should be askin’ more questions yourself. Cos whoever’s secret this is, you don’t seem so sure that you’re keepin’ it for the right reasons. An’ if a street urchin can see that and you can’t… well. Might wanna mull over whether you have as much faith in other people’s intentions as you say ya do.”
“Father…” the word trips hesitantly from Susato’s lips as he lowers his newspaper to regard her with a fond look.
“Yes, Susato?”
“If you were in trouble… you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” Her hands flutter down to pick at a loose thread in the sleeve of her kimono. “It’s just… that manuscript, I-”
“Susato.” Her father’s tone is suddenly stern. “I told you. Not another word.”
“I know, it’s just-”
“Enough. I shan’t tell you again.”
Susato droops. “Yes, father,” she murmurs.
The next time she tries his study door, it is locked. It stays that way.
Susato looked away, tucking her arms into her sides in an attempt to still her trembling. “Well… you can believe what you like, Gina,” she murmured. “I just hope I never become that cynical.”
Gina’s smile faded at the hurt creasing Susato’s features. “Sooze, I just…”
“I’m going back to bed,” Susato proclaimed, drawing her yukata tighter about her shoulders to begin padding back in the direction of her room. “Goodnight, Gina. I hope…” she paused, lingering on the threshold. “I hope you at least think about what I said.”
Silence.
Susato returned to her bed, bones heavy as lead.
Only a short while later she was awakened again, this time to Naruhodo-san’s desperate hands scrabbling at her shoulder, telling her there had been a break-in across the street.