love you bro. no homo.

[rawri]

The Tree Fell.

Fandom: roleplay: goraverse, Sherlock Holmes and the Eleventh Doctor.
Word count: 13,405.
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor, through the eyes of people who aren't them.



By the records, this was their sixth lodging choice in four months. His aunt gave him hell for taking them on.

It happened like this: sundown, Sunday, November fifth, a call came in from a number unknown, interested in the Tsunemoto's two-and-a-half-weeks-empty second floor apartment. Over the phone, there had been a cheery, unaccented voice, wanting to come in as soon as possible to take a look. There would be two of them, though there was only one bed; was that alright? Of course it'd been alright, Kai Tsunemoto had said, and invited them to appear any time in the morning on Monday or anytime in the afternoon Thursday. The voice agreed for Monday, yet quite amicable, and Kai felt a good deal of relief to be able to tell his parents that the room being filled seemed promising.

It proceeded as thus: too-early, Monday, November sixth, a raggedy pair rang in, one coat hem frayed and one dirty bowtie askew, one overly bright smile and one decidedly spine-crawling stare. Two very definitely non-Japanese persons. Still, they had money, they had documents, and the second they'd stepped into the apartment, they'd taken to exploring it on their own - in two very different but similarly odd styles - and then promptly spun on their heels and told him they'd take it. Kai had hesitated, thought of how much they needed the rent, of the four other rooms that had been empty for over six weeks, of how legitimate this pair's money was, of if it made a difference, of how there was only one bed here, of how they both still had their ears, of his own set of ears, of how much extra yen he could put into his figurine collection fund, of his parents' disappointment and of raising taxes.

They signed the lease then and there with funny English names- John Smith and Sherlock Holmes-; one confessed he preferred being called the Doctor while the other preferred nothing in particular, as he switched to speaking English and didn't so much as glance at Kai for the rest of the meeting. Kai awkwardly shook their hands, tried to smile, bowed properly, tucked his tail and headed for the door.

On his way out, he heard (this time both in perfect Japanese): "What a pleasant boy! Could use more sun, outside of his mother's basement" and "The sink will be clogged in three days, the pantry door needs oil, the insulation in the bedroom is especially too thin; you did keep my preservatives, correct?"

Kai decided to keep mum and carry on.

He should've known his aunt would give him hell over them. They'd tracked mud in.

---

Three floors, five rooms a floor. Faulty plumbing, windows that stuck, cracked walls, cracked tile, an oft nervous landlord, air conditioning that worked only in the winter and heating that worked only in the spring -- those reasons and more spoke to why rooms went unsold, and why those who moved in rarely moved out. Those with better means did not lease at the Tsunemoto Complex.

Retirement, bad fortune, an unhappy hand of fate. . . |

"Ryouga, are you working on that autobiography again?"

A scowl.

"Would you give it up for a little bit, dear? Lunch is ready."

"I'm not hungry!"

"Dear..."

"Not hungry! Leave me be, woman; I've finally got something here."

"You said that the last three times."

"Well, now I'm saying it a fourth time, and it's real! I've got something. I've really got something. I just gotta..." The words came, the words ran away, and Ryouga Mashika scowled deeper, hunched closer. His writing station was a wobbly old desk; his writing machine, a rusted old typewriter. He and his had seen their best forty years ago, and retirement on the savings of a factory worker and paper mill clerk hadn't helped much.

Yukari Mashika had seen Ryouga's best years and been smitten; now she creaked open a creaky door, stood at the threshold with a tiny platter against a fragile hip and sighed, sighed, sighed. She was always sighing, these days.

"Dear."

"Not hungry." A futile grumble, a deeper hunch.

"It's just, well..." She creaked forward, footsteps on sagging floorboards. "Even if there was something to write about--"

"- There's plenty to write about! Seventy years to write about! Remember Toto? Remembe--"

"- No one likes to hear about the old days, let alone read about them. As for recently - really, you must admit," the plate dropped, shook, stilled. One rice ball, two vegetables, one egg. "Nothing exciting happens here."

Ryouga scowled.

She patted his back, sighed. "I'll get you some tea."

Then, the doorbell rang.

---

Tano was eight years old and already a master spy. His mom had always said he was ahead of his times.

He had spy duties, and a spy scope, and a spy outfit; a spy mask and a spy sword, even though spies weren't supposed to have swords, but his mom didn't like guns or knives, so Tano made an exception. Most importantly, he had spy stealth and master spy-level sneaking prowess, as evidenced by his mom not noticing the cookies he'd stolen from the kitchen jar the day before.

Currently, Tano was spying on the third floor, crouched in the doorway of three-oh-four, foam sword rope-tied to his hip, spy scope at his eye. Floor three was generally muggy, boring and old, but he'd been tailing new suspects, and for some reason, they went to the third floor. To be specific, they went to room three-oh-one, knocked, waited; moved over to three-oh-two, knocked, waited; made conversation, moved in and stayed in long enough that Tano was thinking of going out back to find a cat to tug on instead of waiting, but just as he was about to get up and leave--

"... just wanted some sugar."

Tano shrunk back in the shadows, spy scope clutched to his chest. Both new suspects were outrageously tall, pale-skinned and funny-haired-- thus, really, why they were new suspects.

In fact, they were heading his way. Tano's eyes went wide, fingers quickly checking his cloth mask. Ready.

"You know, they have all sorts of food, but I haven't seen a single biscuit. Or jelly babies. Not even bean paste jelly babies. Can't believe it."

One of them responded in gibberish- wait, no, that was probably just English. It sounded the same.

"What? No! They're basics. I'm observing the basics. Anyway, you didn't have to come along."

No further responses from Suspect Long-Coat. Actually, no words from either of them, though their footsteps continued - after a second, Tano took a peek out, curious, and whoa!

They were right there! He ducked back immediately, heart in his throat, brown tail straight up, held his breath...

... And let it go in a whoosh as the suspects passed by without even a glance in his direction. Hah. Tano Yayoyoshi, master spy, successful once more.

He waited eighteen long seconds, just to be sure, and then scampered off to award himself with more cookies, tail wagging and grin very self-satisfied.

---

(What Tano hadn't spied was an exchange of glances, eyebrow twitches, ear flicks and silent huffs. Which was just as well, because aside from the ones responsible, there was no hope in understanding it.)

---

Yukari gave a happy little twitter as she closed the door, down one cup of brown sugar and up two counts of new residents. "Well, they're quite the odd pair, aren't they? How strangely matched. I wonder how they met."

"Probably nothing special." Ryouga sniffed, loitering in the doorway with a no-longer steaming cup of tea.

She hmmed.

He side-eyed her.

She flitted her hands, shuffling over to their counter where dishes were stacked, waiting to be cleaned.

He shuffled his own feet, gaze now narrowed. "Don't you go gossiping."

"Please, Ryou. I don't gossip!" One plate picked up, another little hmmm. "I just watch."

---

November tenth, the bathroom window of room two-oh-one blew out.

Kai had luckily been in the vicinity; just down the stairs, in fact, though he spent a good number of seconds staring up the stairs in befuddlement. While he did that, tenants wandered out and around, trying hard to seem like they weren't staring wide-eyed at room two-oh-one. It didn't become so hard for them once Kai arrived, because then they very clearly stared at him. Kai could practically smell the complaint letters.

He tried his best to look confident, slipping through the tiny crowd and into the room, all ready to be properly righteous. His aunt had said he was mad for letting in Europeans, no matter how good their Japanese was or their money looked. Hadn't he learned from those six other landlords?

The Doctor had rubbed the back of his neck, head tilted and expression apologetic. "We haven't had a job for a while."

Hearing such a thing should've made throwing them out easier, and for a brief moment, it did. The apartment already smelled strange - admittedly, it smelled mostly like smoke with a strong pepper undercurrent - and while it looked somewhat cluttered, it didn't look lived in - didn't they have any normal possessions? - and so it looked... well. It looked like the sort of place with a blown out window.

All considered, he should've thrown them out. To be honest, Kai wasn't sure why he didn't. Something about them agreeing to take care of the window themselves, of a raise in the rent, of promises to find distracting jobs soon, they just needed a little time, would he mind...?

The next thing he knew, he was out in the hallway, just as confused as the people blinking back at him. His explanation came out muddled, stuttering, disjointed, and in the end, he just ducked out, tail tucked yet again.

Dogs were still barking. Neighbors yet glanced around. Some almost called the police, but no one knew quite what had happened.

Something about science gone awry. That's all Kai had learned, anyway.

Naturally, Kai had to tell his aunt, and his aunt had to tell everyone else, and everyone else had to tell each other, and talk of the odd Europeans living in the Tsunemoto Complex spread across their little corner of the city like a typhoon over India.

And that was how the residents became aware of Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor.

---

Eighteen minutes and something-or-other seconds on the subway, and Sakura was bored. Smacking gum worked for about two minutes-- staring at the backs of people's heads and making up stories about them worked for five- trying to do homework worked never, as the stream of bodies pushed and pulled the same as a river, and even if she did manage to snag a seat, she couldn't concentrate.

Her brother had lost her iPod the day before, too, so she didn't even have music. Hand twirling up in dyed brown hair, she barely held in a monstrous sigh: it was going to be a loooong thirty-five minutes, to say the least.

At least she'd managed to snag a seat, she supposed.

Her shoulder pressed against the window, hair drawn into a ponytail, backpack on her lap, eyes turned blankly out the window as they drew away from yet another station: completely, utterly, wholly unenthused. The two seats across from her emptied, the seat next to her taken by a highly distracted father of a toddler. People rushed in, people rushed out, and the train moved on.

Boooored.

"... big city, we ... go to ... television and news - could ... interesting ..."

... Huh?

Eyes shot forward, wherein she found herself staring at two foreigners sitting back, apparently relaxing for the ride. They didn't look like businessmen, though she couldn't imagine another reason Englishmen would be riding this particular subway -- it wasn't exactly on any tourist hotspot...

When blue eyes turned her way, she almost didn't hold back a squeak. The man started speaking again, voice alarmingly low - and fast, way too fast, she couldn't catch more than a few words before he was heading on to the next sentence, she really hoped he wasn't speaking to her, oh god, what if he was, she should tell him before he got angry, though with the way he was staring at her he already looked angry--!

The one with the tweed jacket and red bowtie slung his arm over the other, voice pitched quite differently. The blue-eyed one cut off, sending a glare to the side, little black ears (he had ears! they both did, actually; Sakura'd just noticed) pinned back. Tweed didn't seem to care, finishing up his babbling - something about trains and birds...? had she gotten that right? - and then shooting her a smile, which made her flush in embarrassment and draw her backpack up a little more. Geez, but who were these guys?

The men stayed. Coincidentally, so did Sakura.

She couldn't understand much, and she did her best not to stare too obviously, though the whole 'just looking at my phone' trick probably didn't work for seven minutes straight.

Still, they didn't seem to mind. The arm stayed over Blue Eyes for a bit before getting shrugged off, black ear flicking in subdued annoyance, but even then, the two kept close. Really close, actually. Really, really close. And they kept touching! A little poke in the arm here, a push with the foot there, knees and shoulders pressed together.

Tweed spoke the most after blue eye's outburst, but there were a few good stretches of companionable silence in between. There were a few good moments when Sakura thought she was looking at something that she shouldn't have, too, but-- how often did you get to see foreigners? Or listen to them? Not often!

Sakura stared, and stared, and stared, and then had to get off, footsteps dragging maybe a tad. The father with the toddler had left two stops before, and with really tall foreigners taking up two seats, the one next to her had gone unoccupied. On her shuffle past, Tweed had swiveled in his seat, eyes wide and definitely on her, oh God -

"Pardon." Japanese. Pure, fluent, unaccented Japanese. "Are there any ice cream parlors in Sakae?"

"Um." Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What was his question? Ice cream parlors? She could answer that, she could totally - obviously, she did - speaking in Japanese was okay, too, wasn't it? He'd asked so well! Okay, okay, right - "Moon Avenue. Next to Noodles, in that same, um, there's a huge mall there, it's hard to miss. -- S-sorry, I have to go, this is my stop, nice to meet you!"

Blue Eyes hadn't even looked at her, though she thought she caught an eye-roll: Tweed was opening his mouth (of course), but she scurried past, head down and cheeks red.

It was a five minute walk home, and she watched the ground the whole time, embarrassment not leaving so much as simply cooling off, thoughts tumbling all about. She thought and thought and thought, and then thought, oh. They must've been... There was that bar in the downtown... Oh!

God, she was so blind. The ears must've been prosthetics.

Well, it'd made the ride faster.

--

"Ma'am, we've--"

"Out of the way, Eyoko. Yagami, what do we have?"

"With all due respect, Chief, Eyoko and his team -"

"I'd read double homicide, then the boys tell me double suicide. A double suicide on the tallest building in Sakae with no weapons, no drugs, no jump. Best of all, no eye witnesses. Victims don't even work here, they tell me. Yagami, are they telling me right?"

"Yes, Chief, but we--"

"Don't tell me they're telling me right. They can't be right. It'd take a, a... double heart attack -"

"- Ma'am -"

"-- Chief -"

"- or a fortune gone wrong-- what is it?"

"Chief, they've found the answer."

"What?"

"Yes, ma'am; the- the report's right here, and it looks to be in order, I mean, it is in order, we made sure it was in order. And it's right. There's no way it's wrong."

"I just got here! You all are a bunch of knuckleheads - how the hell would you have figured it out in under an hour? How the hell did you validate it in under an hour?"

"Ah, that's... that's just it, ma'am. It's a funny story, actually, kind of- really funny--"

"Get on with it, Eyoko!"

"-- Well, these two civilians were here when we arrived, thirty minutes ago, ma'am, and--"

"Civilians? Civilians beat you here? Civilians mean suspects, Eyoko, I'll have your badge for letting civilia--"

"- Ma'am! If I might say, ma'am. I... had said it was a funny story, right?"

Chief Hiyoko Tsuno narrowed coal black eyes, clenched bitten-nail hands, and very near bared her teeth. Eyoko did his level best to not shrink back, but up against the Chief, well ... it was hard.

Before any badges or heads rolled, though, Lieutenant Yagami stepped forward, a five foot three bubble of calm, and politely cleared her throat. "Chief. May I suggest looking at the report in the car? The civilians have been waiting for questioning."

Absolutely electric tension held the air for one brief pause, but finally, the Chief gave in with a pointed, derisive scoff.

"Fine! Where are they?"

"They, uh." Eyoko started, withered back under Tsuno's glare, had to swallow, and. "They said they'd be at the ice cream parlor on Moon Avenue."

---

Badges did end up rolling.

---

The parlor's quaint, in the way that any over-crowded business on the corner of a megamall could be quaint. Chief Tsuno hardly cares, and Lieutenant Yagami can't say she does, either.

They move fast under the Chief's boiling anger, Yagami nearly taking out a bicycler on the way; with how they went barging into the shop, one would think there was a serial murderer in the back, but no. Tsuno had elbowed her way through the line in no time, slammed her hands down on the counter and made the boy behind the register jump a foot in the air.

"Um, what, uh, would you like, ma'a--"

"European! Bowtie and scarf, black and brown haired, middle aged, eared, traveling together. One prefers strawberry. They came in here. Where?"

"Oh my God," that was another employee, a brown haired girl peering over her coworker's shoulder, voice a whisper. "I've seen them before."

There was a little bit of stuttering and a whole lot of flinching before the boy raised a finger to point to the far corner. No gratitude came from the Chief, though the Lieutenant managed to sneak one in before making her own way over to the targeted booth; people moved out of their way as quick as they were able, though the two suspects didn't seem to notice until the police officers were bearing down on them.

If Yagami or Tsuno thought things would finally start to make sense, they ended up with the nastiest surprise. For one, the two refused to move from their booth. For another, one didn't bother to speak Japanese the entire time, outside of the occasional quip that was usually to the Chief's misfortune; the other wouldn't stay on topic aside confirming that, yes, they had discovered that-or-this-or-that, and yes, the report was right.

They threatened the two with fines, jail time and even deportation, though most of it was bluff - technically, they hadn't done anything illegal, since they had reported the homicides (not suicides) and cleared away from the scene before it was off-limits, but still. Tsuno didn't like them. Tsuno didn't like them at all.

There'd be a follow-up interrogation the next day, eleven a.m. sharp, and they had better attend -- both agreed, surprisingly, but Yagami had the feeling they didn't mean to in the least. By the way they gave their ice cream more attention than the Chief, they knew it, too.

And wherever these two had come from, they could probably disappear right back. Yagami wasn't stupid: Nagoya was big; it was easy to lose a body. The police knew that better than anyone.

Still, it was a shame. The two were clever, that much was blindingly obvious - a great use, if they did stick around. Too bad the Chief would never accept their help (as the one named Holmes had pointed out, in not-so-flattering words).

As such, Yagami took down their landlord's address and telephone number. You know, just in case. Her boss was brilliant with organization, but she could be incredibly narrow-minded.

---

They weren't like ghosts, the Europeans. They were closer to crickets: a sound from outside, a wondering noise, pleasant from afar and in short bursts, but too close or too long and you wanted either to run or crush them. The latter wasn't always the case, but once in a while, Kai would catch one of them limping, or his aunt would report blood stains from the foyer to their room, or they'd be spotted sporting black eyes for a few days. Once, Holmes' arm was in a sling for two weeks-- no one in the complex had any idea where the injuries came from, but for a long while, no one was willing to ask, either.

(Tano was the first: November fifteenth, ten days of not-so-discreet spying, and he'd rounded a corner too fast, ran face-to-stomach into the Doctor and yanked on Sherlock's tail.)

(Things went up from there, but it hadn't helped Sherlock's recently re-located shoulder.)

Anyway, crickets. They had a thing of hopping into your home, but so long as the sun was up and the day was smooth, they'd find a perch and your curiousity would pique. Such as it was at the apartments: things settled, the noises calmed down, no more windows or walls were blown out, and people wouldn't stare so much as actually look.

Everyone had their own lives and their own things to do, but even something so small as a bug - as mundane as new tenants - caused a ruckus. As ten days turned into twenty turned into the first rent payment and the Europeans making it (no one had been sure: the pair seemed to only own one set of clothing and could be often caught carting in what looked like honest garbage), those of the Tsunemoto Complex slowly decided they may of had need to do something more than just look at these oddly mannered, oddly colored crickets.

Not that it was difficult to interact with them. They were around enough. One of them was cheery enough.

Unfortunately, even as Kai learned that saying how are you? without stuttering in the mornings was perfectly fine, and Tano's mother learned who was teaching her son so many new sneaky tricks, and the man who never left his three-oh-one room (he was thirty-one with a philosophy degree, agoraphobia and no work, living off dead parents' inheritance) would lean over his balcony to converse with the black-haired one right at dusk every night, unfortunately, there was that one person who wanted nothing more than to drive the crickets out, noise or no noise.

That person was the one the apartment complex collectively knew as Aunt Tsunemoto. Alternatively, the she-devil.

---

The Europeans became one piece of the apartment complex's existence; Aunt Tsunemoto had long been another.

She was an average looker, black hair put up tight and eyelashes brushed far out, cheeks caked with make-up to keep eyes off her (lacking) chest. She wasn't too fat, she wasn't too thin-- really, she was completely and utterly unmemorable, up until her hands.

The hands were long and slim in the way a skeleton's hands were long and slim; they flittered like ragged wings, pecked as a vulture, snatched as a starved hawk. Her hands were claws, and, fittingly enough, the rest of her screamed crow.

As Kai Tsunemoto kept a side job with a paper factory and she lived in the building (the rent box was planted right outside her window), tenants often had to go to her with any concerns. Consequently, there weren't many officially submitted concerns. She was an unpleasant person, anyone could tell you that: they'd also tell you of how she lurked in corners, grasped onto the tiniest twig of a mistake and held grudges as long as the Pacific was wide, knocking on doors to gossip with whomever would listen about what this or that person did. She made people nervous, made them skitter, whether they were tenant or landlord.

She was a crow. She stared. Beady black eyes, thick eyeliner, and an instantly skin-shivery stare -- people did everything they could to avoid her.

She wasn't stupid; she knew it. While one upon a time, she may have been good-natured, being prone to betrayal led to no friends, no friends led to bitterness, bitterness led to a need for absolute control, absolute control meant inserting herself wherever she was least wanted. She drove everyone off, yes (and she had: she'd been jilted at the altar, by a man who had been too cowardly to say no the first time and knew he wouldn't be able to again), but she drove them-- one knock on the door from her would send the biggest man to painting his door a new color, or paying a little extra on the rent, or donating supplies or electrical work or anything, honestly, so long as she went away.

People wondered on the first day how she would get along with the Europeans.

It was very simple, really.

She didn't.

---

"The police lieutenant was here for you."

"Oh." Aunt Tsunemoto got a blink from the Doctor, a slight pause, the man's eyes flitting from her to the rent box she was stubbornly blocking, and finally nudged forward of the already extended hand holding his rent. Their rent: Holmes loitered in the background. Aunt Tsunemoto made a point to send an extra glare his way. The Doctor bobbed back into her gaze, blocking her view. "That's nice. Did she leave without us?"

She sniffed. "Obviously."

"Huh." Another pregnant pause, confusion eventually spreading over the Doctor's face. The Aunt bristled, near insulted by how slow the man was being. "Alright. Do you want the rent?"

She hated them. They disrupted her order, they went against her order, they blatantly ignored any hierarchy the apartment had. They were slow and then wickedly smart, they dragged their feet across the lobby floor, they tracked in mud, they brought in garbage, they blew out a window and covered it with a tarp. She would have been willing to credit them with lice infestation, if they actually had a lice infestation.

Moreover, they made her suspicious. Where were these men getting money? Not that they seemed to ever buy anything, but she knew they didn't have jobs. She'd followed them maybe a little, just to confirm- they didn't seem to do anything that warranted payment.

In her opinion, they should have been thrown out in the very first week. Let them gain another number to their eviction rate: they were obviously freeloading foreigners, absolute louts; they deserved it.

Snapped, "You're not going to ask what she wanted?"

"Did she want something?" The confusion was rampant, and the Aunt was all too ready to rip into him, claws at the ready--

"Honestly." Holmes appeared, brushing up behind the Doctor with a distinctly displeased look on his face, ears flicked back and tail swishing. "Give us the letter, Tsunemoto, take the rent, and we'll be on our way."

She could feel her lips curl back instantly, a right sneer coming on -- he stared back, unimpressed.

A few more moments, and one claw extended to snatch up the envelop. Holmes gave a snort through his nose, one ear flicking as he turned on a heel. They both looked set to depart, but over his shoulder:

"Oh. Himiko gave you that scarf because she didn't like the way you stared at her whenever she wore it, not because she wants to be friends; stop coming up with excuses to knock on her door every afternoon, you disrupt my thinking."

The Aunt stuttered, spat. How dare he! How dare he --

"She's been having an affair for the past twelve days with a man down the block - it isn't that difficult to figure out, do you use your eyes at all?"

Now there was an outright staring contest, one mostly unconcerned while the other brimmed with irritation. The interruption came as thus:

"Sherlock, come on." A half-whine, half-call, the Doctor already out the exit and only still connected to the scene with a head stuck back through the door. If she'd been expecting sympathy, she would get none there. "They should be putting in the new bins right now, it'll still be creamy!"

Holmes was the one to break off the stare in the end, giving her nothing more than a last irritated tail flick as he swept out. Both disappeared around the corner, but she could hear the 'oh hello, boys!' of Yukari Mashika and a 'hey, where're you goin'?' from Tano, of which the reply was 'the parlor!'

And that was why she despised them.

Just wait, she'd tell her nephew later that night, just wait! The lieutenant's going to show up again and cart them off, just you wait.

For what, exactly, she didn't know. Even if they hauled in things like broken umbrellas or trashed satellite dishes, there hadn't been any smell complaints; they'd had explosions, but no noise complaints. People were still in awe, that's how she rationalized it. But she wasn't so blind. She'd find out. The fact that they'd managed the rent payment (had cut her down)-- well. She'd figure it out.

For now - they hadn't missed the lieutenant by ten minutes; just enough time to open that letter and scan it before they showed up (of course she'd opened it, who wouldn't?). What it'd had was a number, and a request for them to call when they could, which... didn't fit with her idea of them at all, but it had to mean something. Something not-good, because it was them, and she was so sure.

---

Meanwhile.

The ice cream parlor on Moon Avenue ran out of stock.

---

Now, it might sound completely crazy, and might also be against a number of rules, but Kai loved Nina Adarsh.

Nina was a nice girl-- not fresh off the boat, despite what people said; she'd been born in India but moved to Japan thirteen years previous, having to follow her father as his job changed locations. She'd qualified into a local University, but after two and a half years, she'd bowed under pressure and dropped out - it made family reunions more than a little tough for her, to put it simply, and she'd moved to Nagoya partially to avoid them.

Still, she was pleasant. Very, very pleasant, if you asked Kai - one of the most pleasant, nicest, kindest, caring girls in the world, and, yeah, alright, she might have been somewhat air-headed, and worked night shift at the supermart, but she always paid her rent and always gave a tiny little smile just for Kai that never failed to make him feel like he would melt into a happy, squishy puddle, all over the floor.

His aunt told him the butterflies he got when she walked through the lobby door came from indigestion. He told his aunt to shove off.

(... Not really: he was terrified of his aunt, and usually ended up hunkering down with his head down and tail tucked.)

She was twenty-eight and earless; he was thirty-one and the owner of five limited edition Ranma 1/2 action figures. Their first meeting beyond stolen glances around corners and the handing over of rent had been Kai helping her carry up bags of groceries. That'd been a year after she'd moved in.

"Hi, Kai." Saturday morning -- a slow point anywhere in the city, but Kai nearly leaped at Nina's arrival into the lobby, smile blooming instantly.

"O-oh, uh, hey, Nina. I've got your tea. Darjeeling?"

It hadn't progressed far over the months, admittedly, but Kai was proud. Not hopeful- he considered himself too old to be hopeful-- but proud: every Sunday and Saturday morning, before she went to her second job (weekends only), he'd hand her a cup of tea and they'd talk about the news, or the weather, or films, or books, or anything else under the sun that they could talk about, which eventually expanded from what pets they liked best to laments about family and stories of childhood.

She didn't always smile at him-- sometimes, work wore down on her hard- and he didn't always have the energy to leap up-- sometimes, not letting yourself hope took a lot- but he'd call them friends. Tentatively.

It wasn't as if he could ask. He'd almost done that, once - asked her to get a cup of real tea with him, maybe at a cafe or something - but nerves had made him back down in the end.

All for the best: she had boyfriends, once in a while. They didn't last long, for one reason or another (all of which she eventually told him).

"It is that kind of morning. I need some spice." An admission with a slow smile, and he felt the butterflies start up. Two years of constant speaking, you'd think they'd go away.

Nope. He swallowed, compulsive, offered the cup. "H-heh. Yeah?"

"Mm-hm. Thanks."

Two, or three, or maybe twenty (he couldn't keep track during these moments) minutes lapsed by, the two of them in silence, sipping on morning tea. These times happened, too, when the morning stretched on in silence and then she was off and he was back to work. They were too precious in their own right for him to dislike.

... Though he should ask about her fish. She'd mentioned something the week before, it had been looking bloated or something--

The front door banged open just as he'd opened his mouth, and both of their heads swiveled over. Sherlock Holmes swept right by, his chin up, back straight, coat swirling out. He came and went in a flash, all obvious determination and purpose, just barely giving Kai a nod when the landlord threw out a "Good morning, Mr. Holmes!"

But that was okay: he was getting used to those two. They were a funny pair, and meetings with them usually ended with Kai feeling like he'd spent a good ten minutes being insulted, but they brought something... different to the apartment. They made him think of the mysterious antiheroes in shounen mangas, the ones that would pose on a rooftop for half of a battle, silhouetted against a full moon, and then swoop in at the last minute and save the main character from certain peril (well, Sherlock, at least: the Doctor was either the sidekick or the whacky, crazy mentor figure).

They were cool. And they could talk down his aunt.

Nina turned back to him, propping an elbow against the reception counter and giving him that small, tiny smile she (as far as he knew) saved for him.

"He is so dreamy."

"Yeah, they really ar-- what?" He really had to stop drifting off into daydreams. There was no way she'd said that.

"Sorry, sorry, but... You can't deny it! I mean, you're a guy, okay, you can, but - he's hot, admit it. Even from a guy's standpoint, he has to be hot."

She'd really said that. "I... I... what? I don't have to admit anything, I-- are we talking about Mr. Holmes?"

"Du'h!" A giggle, she giggled, covered her mouth with a hand and rocked forward like a high school girl with a silly little secret about her best friend. "He could use a sandwich, I guess, but it's his... presence, you know? So smart. Have you ever heard him talk? His voice. I could listen to it for hours. And his hair. And his eyes. And his--"

"I don't want to know!" Sherlock Holmes, shounen hero - the image was slowly crumbling into Sherlock Holmes, bishounen hero. He wanted to beat back the picture with a broom. What she was getting at wasn't hard to grasp: it made his ears feel hot, in a way that wasn't entirely pleasant. "He's... at least thirty-five! And he's British. And kind of mean; do you ever listen when he talks?"

She huffed at him, sipped her tea, straightened up. Stared off to the side.

... She wasn't listening to him!

"Nina, it's not like. I mean. He lives with Mr. Smith, you know."

"I know." So what?, that's what her voice said. Kai inwardly floundered.

"They're... there's only one bed, up there."

"They obviously don't have the best jobs. I don't blame them - mattresses are expensive."

"Everything they do, they do together."

"They weren't together right then. Anyway, if I had just arrived in a foreign city, I'd stick close to the only other foreigner, too."

"They finish each other's sentences! I've seen them loop arms!"

"I'd stick even closer to the other foreigner if they were my good, old friend."

He more than inwardly floundered. He outwardly floundered; flapped his hands (awful, awful, long, skinny hands-- it ran in the family) at her, felt wholly and utterly flustered, probably looked it. His voice was a tiny bit strangled. He really didn't like thinking about this; it felt too personal, like he was prying into his tenant's lives. "Good, old friend?"

"Good, old friend." Oh, she was set. She even turned her eyes back to him, eyebrows raised challengingly.

He'd like to revise his previous thought. Nina was a nice, nice girl, up until she found something she wanted done.

He nearly, nearly whined. "I think they're... good, old... closer than friends, if you understand what I--"

"Kai!" Scandalized. Not disgusted - that was good, he wouldn't have been able to keep standing if she were disgusted with him. "Don't be rude! Not that I'd mind if they were, but they're not. Obviously. They've still got their ears, haven't they?"

"I'm still trying to figure out where they find such realistic ones." Dead-pan. "Europeans have such strange hang-ups."

She huffed, pushed back from the counter. "Geez, Kai. I don't know how they managed to last so long with them-- Mr. Smith's not too bad, either- but they're still real. How long have they been here? A month?"

"What's not too bad mean...? - Huh? Uh, yeah, I think so."

She bit her lip, paused. He stared at her unabashedly, for once, utterly confused. When his mind did catch up, his heart got that same, despairing sink it always got when she had a new boyfriend.

He also felt like he actually had a little bit of indigestion. Either the eggs he'd had for breakfast hadn't been good, or the idea of Nina being torn apart by Sherlock's scorn- and he'd seen the man's scorn, it was sharp as a razor- sat that badly.

"Think they might need some showing around?"

"No." Blurted; he was never blunt, never ever, especially not with her, but Sherlock would gut her. She was too good! "They're fine. Their accents are flawless, their track record shows they've been in at least three other cities, and that's just renting. They're just fine--"

He'd ended staring at his shoes, hands gesturing a little as he spoke; here, he chanced a glance up, and... Immediately withered back, trap snapping shut.

"I just, I just... think... they're doing okay." God, he sounded like a whimpering puppy. Where was his spine?

Somewhere under the look on Nina's face, probably, getting crushed to smithereens. She looked... sad. Really sad. If this were an anime, the music would have gone depressing, her sparkling eyes would've been half-lidded and pointed downward, not at him, not... scrunched up with honest sadness, why -

"This isn't just about Mr. Holmes being really handsome, is it?" For a moment, he wanted to find whoever had just said that rather insightful question. But, oh, it was him.

A terrifying moment passed where she just kept staring at him, and then. "No."

He stared back, frozen. Was he making a breakthrough?

He had to tread carefully. If only you could pause real life like you could dating sims--

"If you're... thinking about how you once ha-"

"Kai!"

"-d to be on your own, they..." Oh, come on.

But there was no helping it - her focus was on the men barreling down the stairs, his focus was on the men barreling down the stairs, and his heart kept on sinking.

"Kai!" The Doctor, all wagging tail and messy hair, with Sherlock trailing not too far behind (also looking suspiciously mussed, if you asked Kai, but he might have been biased now). "Hullo. We need to pop out for a bit, be back in a snap: the nice lieutenant's supposed to show up soon, just tell her we'll return in no time, there's a chap. Thanks, Kai! See you!" He half-spun around, about to leave, but ended up blinking at Nina. "- Oh, hello. Good-bye."

And out he went, out they went, the Doctor following Sherlock's again-fluttering coattails. As usual, no words of any sort came from Sherlock's mouth.

Kai tried really, really hard not to start disliking them.

Silence reigned in the lobby for another good seconds-- the moment had been ruined, Kai realized, couldn't keep his ears from laying to the sides because of it. She stared at the ground, set her half-full tea cup on the counter, paused.

Pushed off, backed away, with a smile that wasn't the tiny little one just for him.

"Um. I should probably get going." She was giving him a sympathetic look, and he felt red creep up his neck from it; they almost had a breakthrough, and now it felt like they'd taken a years' worth of steps back.

"Yeah. I'll... see you tomorrow, huh?"

"Probably." She bit her lip again, backed up - turned around, walked out, with only a tiny little wave. "Bye, Kai."

"Bye."

He'd like to be a puddle on the ground, now. Puddles didn't get crushed.

...

Now what had the Doctor been saying about a police officer showing up?

---

"Oh, Yagami! Good day! How are you?"

"Doctor, I've had to stand here for thirteen minutes."

"Fourteen minutes, and ten seconds."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Fourteen minutes and ten seconds, Doctor. Where were you two?"

"Just helping Yukari with her groceries-- hiya, Kai- did you know the elevator's out? Apparently it's been out for over a year."

"I... I-... It's been a problem, yes, I agree, um - Lieutenant Yagami here, she wanted to know, er--"

"The case by the docks, sirs."

"Ah, yes. Mrs. Bon-- the widow of Fish Street's sister, if you don't recall, the widow being the one who murdered Inukutta - disembowelment had pointed to something extremely personal, and yet she barely knew the man; it was quite the curious case. Still simple in the end, of course, but clever enough."

"You were talking about Mrs. Bon, Mr. Holmes?"

"I was. Doctor, remember to call her up on Tuesday; she'll be baking bread again."

"Ooh, yes! Can't forget that one."

"You can't forget anything."

"Handy, isn't it?"

"Very."

"-- Er, sorry, Doctor, Mr. Holmes, but does this mean...?"

"Where can we found the perpetrator? The widow, correct?"

"Partially. The widow and her dog. The dog's where the intestines went."

"Intestines--?!"

"Mr. Tsunemoto, it would be appreciated if you would remain calm. You shouldn't be hearing this."

"I-I shouldn't?! I could've left--!"

"Won't be necessary. Lieutenant, we've a report inside. I'll fetch it."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. And you, Doctor."

"Don't mention it, Yagami. Say hello to Tsuno for us."

"She won't be pleased."

"That's why you have to-- oh, nice to see you, Kai. We'll catch you later?"

"You... I... -- uff, yes, I just... need to go... file some papers, nnn..."

"Er. Okay. Bye!"

---

Despite everything, they didn't always act as a pair.

Usually, yes, they did: if one were to fly through a room, the other would often be at his heels; catch one loitering around the sci fi section of a library, chuckling to himself, and the other would inevitably be a few rows over scouring the mystery novels. If they went shopping, they went shopping together. They were predictable, in a few ways-- never, in others- and one thing the people of the Tsunemoto building came to rely on was the fact that the Europeans came as a pair.

A fortnight after the first rent payment had been made, a new navy blue moped appeared in the parking lot. On and off, it gained and lost a side-car (the Doctor thought it looked cool; Sherlock called it clunky), and on and off, it was used by one or both - usually both - of the Europeans.

They were a team, the people of Nagoya were quick to realize. They operated as an oiled machine, a well-coordinated unit. They solved crimes together, they ran together, they sipped tea together, they probably watched the television together. They didn't agree with each other: they bickered constantly, debated and challenged, stamped their feet and locked metaphorical horns, tails often bristled out and ears laid flat. Sometimes, it was impossible to even get that they were jabbing at each other until silence rung through the air and one was sporting a displease-child face; other times, it turned loud and nasty, the two invading each other's space not to sling a companionable arm over a shoulder but to snap, to yell, to be well and truly angry.

As far as anyone knew, in near two months of the Europeans being tenants, that explosive sort of anger had only happened twice. Both times, it reminded everyone quite well that the two could very easily not be a pair.

The first time had been something about humanity- no one was exactly sure, it had been horribly confusing, not to mention mostly in English-- and resulted in the first of what Ryouga the writer (and then Yukari, and then Kai, then Tano, then Nina, then the rest) came to call the white man's wanderlust. For three days, the Doctor disappeared; Sherlock might as well have, too, with how well he holed himself up in his apartment. By that point, the residents had been used to strange noises echoing at strange hours (no one complained because one, it was still fascinating, and two, Aunt Tsunemoto still manned the complaint box); Yukari had grown accustomed to getting help with carrying her groceries and friendly chats about world war two; Tano spent his every evening trying to track their movements, because they were never the exact same and always ended in excitement; the man with the philosophy degree, agoraphobia and no work had found he'd enjoyed Mr. Holmes' company, and the sudden locking of the balcony door was worrying.

Worrying enough that half-way through the third day, the man with the philosophy degree had cracked open his front door when he was sure Yukari was passing by, gotten the scoop of what had happened (he'd heard the yelling: since he didn't go out, he hadn't known the rest) and bided her to check on the Englishman.

Said Englishman hadn't let her in, but he had yelled through the door, so at least he was still alive. It was just as well, anyway; the Doctor returned late that night, and despite residents' fears of awkward tension, they soon returned to being a pair.

"It's a river on a mountain." They were in the reception room, two days after that first wanderlust episode, and Kai couldn't help but watch them with the utmost wariness. This was the Doctor, though, all loose-limbed, dirt smudged face and goofy natured; to contrast, Sherlock looked like he hadn't seen food or a bath for three days, but nonetheless looked as relaxed as the man ever became, their shoulders brushing and the Doctor's hand giving the Englishman's back a sound pat. "We're lucky it doesn't say Reichenbach Falls."

Sherlock shot the other a side look, and Kai saw intense curiousity under a heavy shield of disinterest. "That's the third time you've mentioned that, Doctor."

"Mentioned-- oh! Reichenbach Falls. Right. Sorry. Spoilers."

A month and half into knowing them, Kai could finally say with pure sincerity that Sherlock pouted. And then they were off, waving their good-byes, taken with god-knows-what to god-knows-where. Things fell back into being the same. Tano got his playful evenings back. Yukari had help with her groceries. Ryouga kept writing. The philosopher on the third floor could lean out his balcony and talk with someone who didn't judge the fact that he never went outside or held a job. Kai breathed out in relief. Nina was skeptical, privately, but for all intents and purposes, things had really gone back to what the Tsunemoto building thought as normal.

... Except they really didn't.

What Kai hadn't known was that now that the two had managed to last a sizable time at the Tsunemoto building, restlessness was setting in. If someone had told him that one of the pair would become antsy, Kai would've put his money on Sherlock -- but, no; it ended up being the Doctor.

At times, it was only for an afternoon, or an afternoon and an evening-- to be honest, none of them had guessed the man was just up and leaving until Sherlock had meandered (Sherlock never meandered) down the stairs and asked if any of them had seen the Doctor. Yes, they had; he'd left eight hours ago. Mr. Holmes pursed his lips, nodded and walked back up without another word - two hours later, with the sun gone and moon edging toward high, the Doctor would slink back in and up, and that night would always be suspiciously quiet.

Ten hour disappearances were the norm, but not the rule. Sometimes, it'd happen for days- never over three, but frequent enough to be noticeable. Most of the time, the Doctor would waltz back in like nothing had happened, and everyone was expected to act the same (or at least, they thought they were expected: the two didn't actually care if anyone asked).

Very seldom, the Doctor would rush in like someone somewhere was yanking hard on a leash, all compact focus and a good smattering of frustration, but so long as you kept out of his way, nothing too bad happened. A potted plant or two might get knocked over, but that was the worst of the damage. People assumed the two had cellphones (who didn't?) and Sherlock sent something particularly dire on those times, which certainly explained the speedy return. It didn't really explain the frustration, though, if you asked the more observant people.

One morning, the Mashikas were in the lobby with Nina and her two work friends, all of them caught in an early afternoon break. Ryouga had shook open his newspaper and then immediately peered over the top, eyebrows up. "The man's got wanderlust. You can see it in his eyes."

"They could be having a tiff. Or some other, longer domestic strife. They never really get along, do they?"

"No, no, they get along." Nina paused, thought. "Sometimes."

"Wanderlust." Ryouga, with a heavy nod. "White man's wanderlust. Can't ever sit still, that one. I'm surprised he's not in America by now."

"Dear, don't say that. They're nice boys - it'd be awful to see them split up."

Ryouga eyed his wife, eyebrows now furrowed together. "What makes you think the other wouldn't tag along?"

"Well. Mr. Holmes has never left. It seems to me, if the Doctor heads off to America, he'd have to be leaving Mr. Holmes behind."

One of Nina's friends gasped. "Oh God, that'd be so tragic. What a sad ending to their romance."

Nina hissed, "They're not romantic!"

"One left forlorn in Japan, never to find love again. The other off to America, life probably spiraling into disaster--"

"What I can't get," the old man interrupted, rather irate (Nina stepped on her friend's shoe, just to help keep her quiet), "is what brought 'em here in the first place. It doesn't make any sense. What got 'em here, and what's keeping 'em here?"

Yukari shifted her feet, firm but uncertain. "It's really none of our business, honey."

"Darn it-- it is our business! This's our home, too! They're fine fellows, for foreigners, but they're still foreigners. What're they doing here?"

Nina, Yukari and the two other girls shared looks, all a mix of discomfort and old decision. Finally, Nina proposed: "Their Japanese is really good. They could have moved here as kids."

"They haven't got our manner! They aren't Japanese in any way, not like you, and you know it, Miss Adarsh. Pardon me, but I'm not buying it. They're here for a reason. I want to know what that reason is. I've got a right to know."

"You just want to write a book on them," Yukari huffed, then sighed, and sighed again. Nina and her friends started thinking of where they had to be that wasn't right there; Yukari had been sighing less, but once she started, it took her a while to stop, and they didn't particularly enjoy seeing her like that.

Ryouga was gruff, in any case, wholly oblivious to the discomfort around him. "Maybe I do." A sniff, and he rubbed his nose, narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, maybe I do, but you can't tell me you're not interested. If something's not keeping them around, then one day, that man's wanderlust is going to take him out of here, and he's not gonna come back. Mr. Holmes'll have to learn how to take care of himself-- he's awful at that, too, and you can't go disagreeing with me there."

"I'm sure he'd be alright, if he had to be." Nina proffered, feeling just a touch obligated to defend the man of her dreams.

Yukari sighed again, then shook her head, looking a bit sad and flustered, like a hen that had just gotten her eggs taken from under her. "Afraid not, deary. He's a giant child on the inside, that Mr. Holmes. Doesn't know a thing about taking care of himself."

Ryouga nodded his heavy assent, while the girls looked on in uncertainty. Put like that, it seemed to all hinge on the Doctor. But that couldn't be right.

For the most part, the majority of residents blamed that first major blow-out as the reason for the Doctor's "wanderlust." In truth, it was the fact that the apartment building was starting to resemble a little something like what people called home, their personal apartment stacked full of precise mind-consuming experiments and cluttered with runaway robotic theories, fridge full of specimens and custard, all seated on top of boxes of fish fingers and Chinese take-away. The walls grew smaller, the halls grew familiar, and so the Doctor had to get out. It was rather simple, really.

Their second big blow-out wasn't so simple. Unbeknownst to Ryouga Mashika, it was indeed about the reason they were stuck in Japan, and ended with the Doctor leaving for a week.

---

It was a long, arduous journey, a whole two week process, with many a test and many more a mock sword fight, but the Official Suspects had officially made their way into being Honorarily Official Agents. For a brief time-- about two days- they'd also been Honorarily Official Crewmates, but that had been when Tano'd thought he wanted to be a pirate instead of a spy, and that had turned out to be 'just a phase,' as his mom put it.

Because, really, he was Tano Yayoyoshi, a born Master Spy. You didn't give away your life calling because of a phase.

Since the Doctor and Mr. Holmes were Honorarily Official Agents, that also meant he was allowed to practice his lock-picking skills on their door. It didn't often work, and when it did, the Doctor or Mr. Holmes always seemed to be right on the other side, but Tano wouldn't have been such a good spy if he let little things like that bring him down.

He was using one of his mom's hairpieces (this was why she wouldn't let him try it out on their door, or so he thought), tongue stuck out to one side of his mouth in concentration, eyes squinted, face close to the target... up, over right, slight pressure, lot of pressure, okay, he didn't really have a pattern to this, but--

Click!

Immediately, he scrambled backward, offending hairpiece tucked hurriedly into a pocket, back ramrod straight. But as one second... two seconds... five seconds passed, and nothing happened, he tilted his head at the door, a curious note bubbling up from his throat. Usually this was when the Doctor or Mr. Holmes stuck their heads out, blinked him and let him in for some custard (the Doctor) or the telly (Mr. Holmes). But right then, right now, there came... neither.

A beat.

"... Well of course there's nothing, I just unlocked it!" Obviously, his lock picking skills had just gotten that good. Spirits lifted, confidence restored, Tano almost, almost barged in, he was brimming with such delight, but he reigned himself in at the last moment - he was a spy! spies were quiet! that's what the movies and his mom said - and took a deep, steadying breath, before tip-toeing forward and turning the knob.

The door creaked on the first inch, which made him jump near a foot in the air; he froze, heart in his throat, and listened... listened... let out a breath-- nothing. No sounds, no movement.

His excitement could've been tangible, it felt so thick - he entered the apartment clutching his spy scope, half-bowed over in a crouch and still tip-toeing. A few lights were on; ones like the bathroom and kitchen counter, which he knew the two always forgot to turn off. Realistically, he knew that it wasn't a big apartment- no bigger than his, anyway- but it felt huge, with random boxes of curious electronics pushed hard against the walls and interesting-looking bottles of powders or liquids balanced haphazardly on top. On the hat rack was a lump of fur with a raccoon's tail (the Doctor said it was cool; Tano didn't believe him) next to a giant, bleached cat skull (much cooler, if you asked Tano; Mr. Holmes never did). The hallway was narrow enough that if he reached out both his arms, he could put his hands flat on either wall, and the bathroom door- directly to your right- opened out instead of in, which made maneuvering really difficult at times, but that didn't matter. It felt like a place you could adventure in for days, and never get too bored.

That his Honorarily Official Agents had a cooler room than he did was okay: it made breaking in all the more worth it.

He crept as quiet as he could, making extra sure that his tail wouldn't knock into something and give him away (it'd happened a couple times. once, he'd knocked a beaker of something off their coffee table, and it'd turned his fur purple for five days). He crept around the bathroom door, past the three-step kitchen (take three steps, and you'd be out again: thus, a three-step kitchen), past a mountain of boxes and a half-built metal cylinder of something, out of the hallway and into the living room...

And almost, almost whooped. There they were! Or, there was the Doctor, his fluffy mop of brown hair tipped back on the couch, one elbow sticking out on the armrest. Tano couldn't help a quiet, quick giggle, had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep the rest in. Master spies didn't giggle, and he was the best master spy that ever lived. He was going to get the jump on the Doctor!

Slight nervousness slunk into his belly, but he ignored it and kept on moving forward, grinning unabashedly. Rounding the couch was no feat, but it felt like success, and he was quick to fall into pouncing position, tail up, knees tensed, arms out--

- Something kept him from doing it, made him actually look at the scene, and the sight made him falter.

There was the Doctor, alright; arm draped over the armrest, feet kicked up and ankles crossed on the coffee table, looking more relaxed than Tano'd ever seen with his head tilted back and eyes closed. His other hand rested in Mr. Holmes' dark hair, of who was snug against the couch and the Doctor's side, curled up like a cat in a box.

Tano couldn't help staring, just waiting for one of them to spring up and swing him around or give him an eye roll, but as the seconds ticked by once again and no movements were forth-coming, his hesitance turned to understanding.

They were really asleep.

...

But they never slept.

Seriously: he'd snuck out at twelve thirty once, because his mom had collapsed on the couch and he was tired of counting sheep, and he'd found the two of them wide awake, had even had some tea with them, could remember clambering up on their wobbly stools, arms barely able to clear the table enough to reach his cup, watching the two of them work until the clock struck one and he really had to get back.

(He did that often, after: wandered in to do his homework on their living room floor while they buzzed around, as his mother was out and they were mother-approved and it was funny, the way they would trade what sounded like insults but weren't at all).

His mom said she'd seen them at five a.m., the time that she had to get up to catch the subway for her work - she'd said they were much more awake than she ever could be, and they were obviously up all the time in daylight, or he wouldn't catch them during all those other, normal hours.

The logical conclusion had been that they didn't sleep. But then what were they doing here?

Sleeping!

He opened his mouth and only didn't yell to get them up because his mother hated that, hated that a lot, and every other adult he'd met hated it too, and if there was one thing Tano hated more than dark spaces or parrots (another reason he hadn't kept with being a pirate), it was being yelled at, and there was nothing a cranky adult did more than yell.

He looked to his left, looked to his right, ears flipping back-- he hadn't really... had a plan for what to do once he'd broken in, he'd just known he'd wanted to break in. Pouncing on them unawares sounded like a good idea, but not if they were sleeping. He could go back home, he supposed, but that was boring, they needed to appreciate just how great of a Master Spy he was becoming.

A few more glances around, then, before he spotted a few boxes left on the kitchen counter, and his questions seemed to be answered.

He clambered over to the kitchen fast, only remembering to be quiet at the last second as he set his spy scope down carefully, hauled a chair over to the counter and hopped on top. He was reaching for the bowls when a noise from the couch made him freeze, stomach sinking as he glanced over.

Sure enough, Mr. Holmes' eyes were open, a black ear flicked in his direction. Tano felt like his knees would shake him right off the chair.

Instead of yelling, though, the man just raised a questioning eyebrow. Tano was confused for a moment, but then remember - right! He probably didn't want to wake the Doctor. But he probably did want to know what Tano was doing in his room, in the kitchen, on a chair, hauling out bowls. Tano felt himself give a (dorkish) smile, lifting three bowls up and nudging one of the boxes on the counter with an elbow, which took a fair amount of coordination and of which Tano was proud of himself for, actually. Sherlock just seemed to watch for a few, tense seconds longer, then nodded slightly, those blue eyes going less sharp, drifting back toward closed. Tano's sigh of relief was more like a whoosh.

Later, as the Doctor woke in the same instantly-alert way that Sherlock had, and the both of them got up to Tano's three poured bowls of cereal, there was the proper appreciation for his lock picking and spy scope, and a few new tales of the criminals they'd caught and the rooftops they'd leaped, all words of which Tano drank in like a man in a desert. At the end of it, spoons scrapping the bottoms of their bowls, the two even offered to improve his scope.

He wasn't too sure how they could do that- it was already pretty epic- but they pulled out words like infra-red and x-ray, and, well, really, a master spy never turned down gifts from his Honorarily Official Agents. That would've been rude.

---

Three months was a long time for a mystery to last.

At the three month mark, two days before rent was due, the Europeans were looking less and less like a mystery, more and more like another two residents in the Tsunemoto building.

Some still had questions, of course; namely Aunt Tsunemoto and Ryouga Mashika, but the latter was endlessly bored with retirement while the former was vindictive, and so, on the whole, people moved on from the foreigners in room two-oh-one. The window was fixed, a number of holes appeared in the walls from one thing or another, but they all were eventually patched (in one way or another), they somehow managed to make the door open outward instead of inward but they changed that the second Kai noted it, they hadn't come back to the complex bloody, bleeding or broken for two weeks, and they kept a seven hour block in the middle of the night silent so that everyone could be sure to catch some amount of sleep.

It was collectively agreed upon that the Doctor was easier to talk to, but as long as you stayed polite and didn't make idle chatter, Sherlock was fine, too. They got on with the children of the building, Tano especially, and they didn't start needless brawls. They were queer (by definition, by slang or by both, depending on who you asked), but they weren't awful. They were interesting, but they didn't get in the way if you didn't want them to (most of the time). Their work with the police brought more police to their area, which meant safer walks for the night shift workers, and once even the quick- and actual- retrieval of one man's stolen bike. The local Chinese restaurant began to deliver.

Twelve weeks and four days into their arrival, and everything finally seemed to be settling into a routine. Even the Doctor's disappearances or the occasional sound of gunfire didn't raise much of a fuss anymore, and really, it suited everyone just fine.

Life moved on. Three more tenants moved in, filled two of the empty rooms: a couple freshly married at the age of twenty-seven and an older, burly man with a mustache who sold cars for a living, and the biggest concern on everyone's mind ended up just being whether or not they'd make the rent.

For the most part, the answer was yes. Still, Kai had taken to temporarily staying in the building, just in case people wanted to try to negotiate.

"How are you doing?" Nina, leaning up against the counter (she'd never had a problem with rent, probably wouldn't be starting now, but it was a holiday and she had no place to be but here), smile small and quiet. Kai smiled back, feeling a touch sheepish; she hadn't made things awkward after that one morning, but he still felt it.

"Alright. Cho Tsuniyamo'll most likely want a postponement - he was laid off at the beginning of the month and had some trouble finding new work." Understandably. The economy was rough. He still had no idea how the foreigners were making their money (a mystery, perhaps, but not necessarily).

Nina tilted her head. "You'll give it to him?"

"Sure. He's been good the last ten months." That made her smile wider, which made him flush-- three years, and still!- but right as he might have gone on, a little ball of energy half-fell down the stairs and near-ran into the counter. "-- Uh, Tano--?

"Mr. Tsunemoto! Mr. Tsunemoto- they-- two people, they walked up, really creepy, I didn't like 'em but no one was listening to me so I went behind Sherlock's coat, and my mom was there but they started saying creepy things, because they're creepy, and she turned and walked off, didn't even look for me, mom always looks at me, and, an', Sherlock, he- pushed me back, an' -"

Kai stared, Nina stared, Tano panted, babbled and tripped over his own words, eventually devolving into stuttering gasps. At that point, Nina knelt down, hands going to slight, shaking shoulder.

"Tano, Tano, calm down. Ssh, hold on, we can't understand you. Start again: the Doctor, Mr. Holmes, Ms. Yayoyoshi and you were doing what...?"

"-- We were in the hallway!" He'd taken a deep breath, but all it meant was he could sound more angry than desperate. "We weren't doing nothing! But then these two, two, two-"

"Two what?"

"Two people, they just walked up!"

This wasn't going anywhere. Nina thinned her lips, kept her voice steady. "What floor?"

"T-third! Near the staircase-- we were just going to head down, I'd had wanted to ask if mom wanted anything, we were going to go to the parlor-"

"Should we call the police?" Kai, his face gone ashen (even though none of it made sense, if those two had let Tano run off like this, something was wrong); Nina glanced at him, glanced back to Tano. The boy was gulping in air the same as a dying fish.

"Stay right here." Her order, and she pressed down on his shoulders until he nodded, and then she was up and off, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Wait, wait-- Nina! Er- agh-- Tano, there's seats back here, I'm gonna- call the police, just stay right here."

The boy was shaking, alright, shaking all over and shaking his head, feet seemingly glued to the floor.

"They disappeared, Mr. Tsunemoto." His voice shook, too, shook Kai right down to the core. He was honestly terrified, he wasn't making any sense-- "Disappeared. Right into thin air. All four of them. An', the Doctor, he - he pushed me away, but I couldn't move, but then he told me to, just like those creepy people did to mom, and suddenly I couldn't stop moving. But I saw them disappear, I did!"

Kai dialed the numbers, phone in hand, shoulders bunching up. He didn't like scary movies for the same reason he didn't like stressful situations: he was awful dealing with either. "People can't disappear, Tano."

"But they did! I know they did!"

"Hello, police. Please state your problem."

-- Shoot. Kai smacked a hand over the receiver, leaned over to Tano. "What's really happening up there? I've got to tell the police!"

"I told you, these two creepy people showed up and started threatening the Doctor and Sherlock, and then they disappeared!"

"People don't disappear, Tan--!"

"Sir? Your problem?"

"- There's, there's been an assault, this is Kai Tsunemoto, at the Tsunemoto complex, in Sakae, Nagoya, on..."

On and on, and they promised to send a car, and he hung up with something close to a crushing feeling, nerves bundled. Tano still stood there, shaking; finally, looking back at him, it shook something loose in Kai.

Nina was up there, Mr. Holmes and the Doctor were up there, and two creepy people had walked right into his building under his nose, and he was just going to call the police? What sort of person did that? A cowardly sort of person, that was who. Someone who couldn't even manage to ask a girl to go to a cafe with him. Someone Kai was really, really tired of being.

He rounded the counter, paused only at the banister of the stairs to turn around and shake a finger in Tano's direction, chin higher than it'd ever been.

"Stay right here."

He waited long enough for a shaky nod from the shaky boy, and then he spun on a heel and bounded up the stairs, taking them as quickly as Nina had.

Half-way to the third, he caught a scream; it made him redouble his speed, take the stairs three at a time.

(Funny, he'd always had asthma-- it didn't seem to matter, right then).

The sight at the top, after he'd vaulted the last step and burst out into the hallway, was not at all one he'd ever expected.

There were the new tenants: Aiko and Lin Takakura, a freshly married couple of twenty-eight, Lin already crumpled on the ground while Aiko was falling, doubled over and spitting blood because Sherlock's knee was deep in her gut, his foot was slamming into the side of her head and she fell like the paper doll she'd so resembled.

The scream had been from Nina, hand over her mouth and eyes tearing up, and that was about when the smell hit Kai-- blood, a mess of it, decay at its freshest, soaking into the carpet and into the air, iron coiling around all of them.

Kai had witnessed a few fights - anyone who lived in Sakae did, whether they became involved or not, but even the worst of the gang fights didn't seem as personal as Sherlock made it. There wasn't another scream so much as a gurgling whine, the high-pitched cry of an impaled animal, and as Kai looked back up, there the man was, coat ripped across the shoulder and falling half-way down, black shoes grinding the girl's hand into the floor until even the on-lookers could hear the bones snap.

Nina shoved her face into his shoulder, but he hardly noticed: Kai was frozen, enthralled; caught in that sick, undeniable way every by-stander was caught at the site of an accident. Distantly, he noted the way Sherlock held his arms: slightly out from his body, never moving too far, and hands crooked... oddly. Sideways? No. Off. Off, like they weren't attached correctly.

"Sherlock!" -- It wasn't a yell in the way that the whine hadn't been a scream; rather, it was the bid of someone on a medieval rack, stretched out to their fullest and unwilling but desperate, determined. "Sherlock. Stop. Sherlock, please, leave her. Sherlock..."

"Quiet." Sherlock, speaking to the Doctor-- and that was the Doctor, another crumpled pile on the floor, propped weakly on an elbow and shaking as bad as Tano. "I won't do anything permanent. You already did something permanent. They coul--"

"A few weeks, that's all I'll need, and they didn't. Sherlo--"

"- Quit interrupting me, Doctor!" A snarl that was just a snarl, the sound of a lion disturbed, a dog prodded one too many times, a tiger to struggling prey.

The Doctor quieted, for once; Aiko did, too, eventually, eyes rolling up and body falling limp next to her husband's, Sherlock breathing deeply over them both, clothing ripped and charred, all four of them seeming to smolder in the blood, the police barging in just as Nina found enough breath to swallow down a sob and turn on them, open her mouth and maybe say something where Kai certainly couldn't.

Two ambulances had to be called, one for Lin and one for both the Doctor and Aiko; while Kai didn't get to look at Lin, he saw the way the medics rushed, the constant press of fingers to a pulse point and squealing of tires. He saw the Doctor, too, legs looking as though they'd been mangled by boulders, one knee bent the wrong way and another foot unable to move. Sherlock found a ride to the hospital by way of Tano's mother, who didn't say a word but let him climb into the passenger seat and barely waited for the door to close before taking off.

Tano ended up staying with the Mashikas, and by all reports managed to catch a few hours' sleep at night; how he managed it, Kai would like to know, because he certainly didn't. Nina, the same.

Four a.m., they shared a cup of tea by the counter, but neither of them had a word to say. That was fine. Kai wasn't sure there were words for this sort of thing.

---

Two days later, rent was due.

The foreigners couldn't meet the payments. Kai offered to waiver it for a while, at least until they were healed. They refused. Tano's mother and the Mashikas offered to put down half, if it made them feel any better. It didn't; they refused. Lieutenant Yagami stepped in, spoke on how much they'd helped with the community, while Chief Tsuno was the one to offer to pay it all. Again, they refused.

The man with a philosophy degree, agoraphobia and no work questioned Sherlock on where they'd go. He didn't ask if they were driven out because of the scene they'd caused, or the charges that could still be pressed, or if they felt like they were putting people in danger, or how they planned to recover if they had no home. Sherlock had said, perhaps they'd return to London.

The man hadn't given any response to that, not understanding or assent or a farewell - only left silence, leaned back and closed his balcony doors.

Rent was due, and the foreigners had no funds to meet it. Their track record was horrible, they caused noise all hours of day, they had no mind for manners, they'd left bloodstains on the carpet and bullet holes in the walls.

Really, there was no reason for them to have lasted as long as they did.

In the end, the moped (sidecar attached) disappeared, and Sherlock Holmes with it. The Doctor disappeared from the hospital, too, though no one was sure how: for one, he was restricted to a wheelchair; for two, the man had turned out to be a scientific marvel, two hearts, one body!, and specialists from all over the globe were flying in to see for themselves. Before a single proper document could be drawn up, though, both men were gone, disappearing as abruptly as they'd arrived.

Aunt Tsunemoto had opened her mouth once, completely ready (I told you so), but a glare from Kai- carefully cultivated from years under his aunt-- chased any words she could've given away.

For a while, the police hung around the Tsunemoto apartment complex-- funds from the media fixed the elevator, crime hit an all-time low, and room two-oh-one went untouched as investigation for the missing persons began.

The hospital reported payments arriving precisely on schedule for the operation they'd preformed for the Doctor's legs, though there was no tracking where the money was coming from, and Yukari Mashika could report that Tano Yayoyoshi now carried her groceries up for her, even though the elevator was fixed.

The hunt for Sherlock Holmes and John Smith continued for some time, and remained officially active for even longer. Oddly, charges over Lin (blinded: his eyes had apparently been ruptured, though no doctor could say how) and Aiko Takakura (broken ribs and a crushed hand) never reached court; in fact, the Takakura couple didn't seem to reach anyone-- they, too, disappeared, surely as the Europeans.

Some residents bet on America; others, London; still others, Tokyo; then Fukuoka, Kyoto, Chiba, Seoul, Moscow, Sydney, on and on to the most ridiculous extremes of Jerusalem or Toronto.

"I bet they're still here," Tano said, "But they can disappear, so they could be anywhere here." But no one ever listened to him, anyway.