Chapter 766 - 766: 0766 Surprise

To Sherlock, Apparition was a wonderfully interesting and useful piece of magic. Especially since, long ago, he had already Side-Along Apparated with others.

Now that he'd experienced the benefits of the spell firsthand, he understood the point even more clearly.

To ignore distance entirely to move from one place to another in an instant was more convenient than words could really capture. Not to mention that a truly powerful wizard could Apparate from one continent to another entirely: so-called intercontinental Apparition.

Sherlock, of course, didn't have that ability yet. But after practicing many times these past weeks, he was confident he'd fully mastered the skill.

For someone like Sherlock—Chaotic Good, through and through whether he passed the test or not hardly mattered.

The moment he actually needed to Apparate somewhere, he could simply do it, test or no test.

It just wasn't time to break the rules yet.

There's no need to dwell on the test itself.

The result was that Sherlock passed without incident and earned his Apparition license.

Hermione also passed though not quite without incident, since the only danger had been the pressure she'd put on herself.

Watching as everyone else still had a long stretch of testing ahead of them, Sherlock turned to her.

"Hermione, I need your help."

"I always do," Hermione said with a small smile. "What do you need from me?"

Five minutes later.

Sherlock appeared in Diagon Alley.

As the saying goes, ability breeds daring. Sherlock still wasn't capable of Apparating across truly great distances, but within the bounds of the island of Great Britain, he had no trouble at all.

Even though the Scottish Highlands sat over four hundred miles from London.

At this particular hour, Diagon Alley was in its off-season lull, and there weren't many people on the street.

Since time was short, he made straight for his destination: Gringotts.

"Sherlock, you actually came!"

The moment Fleur caught sight of him; her eyes widened with surprise. She pulled him into an empty corner and said with emotion.

"Your very first Apparition, and you flew this far? You're incredible."

"Not my first," Sherlock said, glancing around with an air of casualness. "I'd already succeeded plenty of times before the test."

"That's not the same thing at all. How far could those attempts of yours have gone? I doubt you even made it out of Hogsmeade."

"It's really not as difficult as all that. Once you have the trick of it, it comes easily enough."

"I suspect you're the only person alive who could say that with a straight face."

Fleur shook her head, then added, "Weasley will be along shortly but are you quite sure you want to go through with this?"

She wore, for once, a genuinely serious expression.

"Sherlock, I think you understand how serious this is—even with both of us willing to help you, it's still dangerous. Very dangerous..."

"Thank you for the reminder, Fleur. But I know what I'm doing."

Sherlock said it calmly. "Ah—here he comes."

"Sherlock, you've completely lost your mind!"

Bill Weasley strode quickly to Sherlock's side, grabbed him by the arm, and looked him over carefully.

"You've barely passed your test and you're already Apparating this kind of distance—when Miss Delacour told me, I genuinely couldn't believe it!"

"You believe it now," Sherlock said with a faint smile. "And for the record, I haven't splinched myself. You needn't worry so much."

Having already checked him over, Bill was reassured, and seeing that Sherlock's thoughts remained as clear and composed as ever, he let out a long breath.

Now it was time to get down to business.

Bill flicked his wand first, casting a spell Sherlock knew all too well—the Muffliato.

"You said you wanted information on the Gringotts vault activity of Death Eaters loyal to You-Know-Who?"

"That's right," Sherlock said with a nod. "Fleur says this isn't something she can manage alone."

"It's not exactly easy even with the two of us!"

Bill scratched his head at that, in the way of a man suddenly saddled with a headache.

"You should understand—Gringotts's position is a peculiar one.

"It doesn't care whether a customer is a Death Eater or not. Anyone who walks in the door is a customer.

"And by the same token, it takes client confidentiality extremely seriously.

"For a goblin, revealing the secrets held within Gringotts is against the rules.

"They're the guardians of enormous fortunes, responsible for what they safeguard and a great deal of it was crafted by their own hands..."

"It's precisely because it's difficult that I came to the two of you."

As he spoke, Sherlock drew two rolls of parchment from inside his robes and handed one each to Fleur and Bill.

"These are some administrative loopholes I've identified in Gringotts's security measures. Combined with the access the two of you have, I imagine it should be enough to work out what we need."

Fleur unrolled her parchment and was instantly absorbed in its contents.

Bill, on the other hand, took one glance and went pale. "Sherlock—what exactly are you trying to do?!"

If it had been anyone but Sherlock who'd handed him this material, Bill would already have reported it—no, correction, even with it being Sherlock, he still had half a mind to report it.

Just looking at the contents, this had the unmistakable air of someone planning a heist.

"Calm down, Bill."

"Exactly, what are you so worked up about?"

Fleur shot Bill a look of displeasure at his overreaction, then, beaming, leaned in and kissed Sherlock on the cheek.

"Sherlock, you really are impossibly charming."

"If it still seems difficult, my suggestion would be to start with Barty Crouch Jr. and Bellatrix," Sherlock said, looking between the two of them. "Going by my own deductions, they're the most likely candidates."

Bill gave Sherlock a helpless look, apparently unable to fathom why the man could take a kiss from Fleur and show absolutely no reaction. Little did he know, Sherlock had already been on the receiving end of this treatment from more than a few young women.

For someone like him, it had long since stopped registering.

"Sherlock, is this really so important?"

"Extremely important," Sherlock said gravely. "This is a matter of Life and Death."

Bill studied Sherlock for a long moment, then slowly nodded.

"Understood. I'll do what I can."

The matter settled; Sherlock made to leave.

Watching Sherlock and Fleur walk off side by side, Bill couldn't help but shake his head quietly to himself.

Honestly, even having already given Sherlock his word, he still wasn't sure whether he'd done the right thing.

"You're really heading back already? Won't you stay a little longer?"

"Strictly speaking, I'm still supposed to be at the Apparition test site right now."

Sherlock shook his head with a smile, turning down Fleur's suggestion.

"It's only because I move rather quickly that I was able to slip away ahead of the others.

"And now that the matter's settled, there's no reason for me to linger here any longer."

Hearing this, Fleur though a little disappointed could only nod. But just as she was walking Sherlock out of Gringotts, a delighted voice rang out.

"Fleur!"

Sherlock turned toward the sound and saw a man in a close-fitting suit with refined fittings, a black briefcase in hand, striding toward them with an expression of delight.

The moment Fleur spotted him, a flicker of irritation crossed her eyes. But it faded almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a smile that was polite but held her at a distance.

"Hello, Mr. Brooke."

The man Fleur had called Brooke seemed entirely unaware of her tone or perhaps he noticed and simply didn't care. He said, in a tone of easy familiarity, "I've told you before, just call me Jim!"

Fleur frowned and said nothing.

The man's attention had already shifted to Sherlock.

He looked him up and down, then his expression turned to open disbelief. "I'm sorry, Fleur... but could this possibly be—Mr. Holmes?"

Hearing the man name him outright, Sherlock blinked in mild surprise and gave him a second, closer look.

Then immediately looked away.

Fleur, who a moment ago had seemed faintly annoyed, now straightened with visible pride at the sight of Jim Brooke's reaction and said at once, "That's right this is Sherlock!"

"Oh—oh my—you're really Holmes? That Sherlock Holmes?"

Brooke stared at Sherlock with wide eyes, looking for all the world like he'd just walked into a fan meet-and-greet—the spitting image of Colin Creevey catching sight of Harry.

He was so worked up, in fact, that his words started coming out in a tangle.

"I've—I've read every single one of Miss Granger's books!

"You're simply extraordinary—Fleur's told me about you constantly—oh, are you here on a case today?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

Fleur cut in smoothly, "Mr. Brooke is one of Gringotts's major clients. The bank has assigned me to handle his account for the time being."

Sherlock's attention was sharp enough to instantly grasp what was going on Gringotts was trying to use Fleur's appeal to keep this valuable client tethered to the bank.

Unfortunately for them, they'd gotten the wrong idea from the very start.

"He's gay."

"I'm sorry?"

Fleur's eyes went wide. She wondered if she'd misheard.

But it was such a simple English word—surely she couldn't have misheard it?

"Nothing," Sherlock said mildly. "Hello."

Jim, meanwhile, seemed thrown into a fluster at merely being addressed by Sherlock.

In his carelessness, his briefcase slipped and hit the ground, scattering paper and pens across the cobblestones.

"Sorry, I'm terribly sorry—"

He crouched at once to gather everything up.

Sherlock and Fleur simply watched, coolly, with no intention of lending a hand.

Fortunately, he moved quickly and had everything sorted out in no time.

Once he'd straightened up again, he said, looking somewhat apologetic: "Sorry, I think I'd better be going — I must seem... well, I suppose I got a bit too excited.

"In any case, goodbye—Mr. Holmes. It was wonderful meeting you today!"

"Did you just say he's gay?" Once Jim had walked off, Fleur couldn't resist asking. "Or did I mishear, and you said 'hey'?"

"You heard correctly," Sherlock said calmly. "I did say that word."

"Oh, that's—"

"What I mean is, if you were planning on seeing him, I'd suggest you back out as soon as possible."

"No, I wasn't—"

Fleur said quickly, flustered, "He seemed to have been pursuing me, but I only ever found him irritating..."

"Well, that's even better, then!"

By this point the two of them had already stepped out through Gringotts's front doors.

"But how did you work that out?"

Fleur asked, curious.

"There was far too much information pointing to it."

Sherlock explained at a rapid clip:

"First, there's his own physical presentation.

"His eyebrows were shaped, his forehead had clearly been treated with an aloe moisturizer, and beyond that—impeccably styled hair, immaculate nails, a very particular scent of cologne.

"Second, his body language.

"When he looked at you, he seemed enthusiastic, but there was a polite indifference in his eyes which doesn't match what you just told me. Whereas when he looked at me, his eyes carried far more curiosity and intent.

"And last—the most obvious point of all, he left me his contact information."

"I beg your pardon?"

Fleur's mouth fell open slightly, staring at Sherlock in open shock.

"Right here, in my pocket," Sherlock said, drawing a scrap of parchment from his robe pocket, a string of numbers written clearly across it. "He slipped it to me just as he was standing back up."

It took Fleur a good while to recover.

"I—how did I not notice a single thing?"

"Because at that particular angle, my body happened to block your line of sight."

Sherlock said it evenly, as though describing something that had nothing whatsoever to do with him.

"Judging purely by that manoeuvre, he's had a fair amount of practice.

"Which means the greater likelihood is that his real interest in approaching you is access to the men around you.

"After all, with someone of your calibre, only high-quality male prospects would ever dare get close."

Fleur: "..."

"That's the matter settled. I'm off."

Sherlock gave her a small wave as he said it.

Not until his figure had vanished did Fleur fully come back to herself.

"Well, that was certainly..."

Today's events had been so thoroughly bizarre that, for a moment, she genuinely didn't know what to say.

As a woman with Veela blood and looks to match, Fleur Delacour had grown up her whole life being pursued by the opposite sex. She'd long since grown used to the feeling, and it had left a certain strand of arrogance woven into her character.

Given the particular history between France and England, that trait had only become more distinct once she'd come to England.

It was only when she'd encountered the Holmes brothers that she'd ever truly run into a wall.

But now...

Here she was, tasting that same sting of defeat, at the hands of an entirely different man.

Absolutely infuriating!

The man calling himself Jim Brooke had approached her—and his actual objective had been men, the whole time?

What was there even left to say?

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