*Sherlock* The Thief And The Detective

[Samantha 'Sam' Puckett]

Sam was running as fast as she could, laughing as she heard slow running footsteps behind her. No, they wouldn't catch her. But it was too risky to go to her den, so she passed the alley with her den in and passed a few more before diving into an alley she figured they wouldn't see, it was so hidden. She was right. The stupid people ran right past, paused, then walked back towards the shop, defeated, to tell the person who Sam had stolen from that they had lost her.

Sam sighed, breathless, and when she was sure they were gone, she began sidling back to her den. However, she stopped in another visible alley and opened the wallet she took, beginning to look through the money. Of course, she had a wallet or two at home, but she wanted to be ready to buy stuff later, so that she didn't have to steal frequently. Not that she didn't like it, just sometimes she got tired of having to run and hide. She didn't want to be locked up, she just needed the money. Closing the wallet, satisfied, and putting it in her pocket, she made her way out of the alley.

Sam didn't go back to her den, however, she just walked along to think. She pulled up her hood on her jacket as she went past the shop. They all tensed, but didn't seem to recognize her. Idiots. Sam suddenly realized that it would be nice to have someone who understood why she stole, a friend who wouldn't hate her for it. Her friends had never stayed long what with the stealing thing, and now Sam felt lonely. Safely out of reach of the shop, she put her hood down, her blonde hair bouncing down to rest in her hood. Sam ran a hand through said hair and then bumped into someone.

"Sorry!" she apologized. Yes, Sam did that once in a while.

[Sherlock Holmes]

The eyes and ears of London, The Homeless Network, ekpt the detective updated. There had been an increase of pickpocketing and not many had been willing to report it. The person was yet another who needed to steal to stay alive. The great detective knew that a few of the homeless network participated in wallet stealing to make their way in life, but he tried to encourage them out of the habbit. A lot of them had nearly stopped. So when he finally got a recent update on this new thief, Sherlock pulled on his coat and left the flat.

Disappearing outside, he followed the lead, catching a cab to arrive at the area as soon as possible. As he arrived, he saw someone returning to the shop, out of breath. It was eident that the person had just been chasing the thief. With his knowledge of the London system, Sherlock knew that the thief, a woman with blonde hair, would most likely come back otu this way. There were several alleys to hide in, but most things were dead ends unless you were willing to climb. And the other exits he had covered by the homeless network.

So, waiting near by, Sherlock pretended to be examing the streets, but out of the corner of his eye, the detective was keeping watch. Eventually, somone came out of the street, wearing a hood. Not trying to be recognised, Sherlock could see her blonde hair and she appeared to be slightly red, although no one else would pick that up. Cooling down after a run. This was the person. Leaving his post, Sherlock walked towards her and she bumped into him, clearly not paying attention to where she was going. "Sorry!" Sherlock regarded her, he was wary, in case she tried to steal anything, not that she would be able to. He had taken precautions with his phone, the only item worth stealing on him. it was in an inner pocket.

"No problem, but I would recomend that you return whatever you stole. Wallet, wasn't it." Sherlock commented, his tone neutral as his eyes flickered across her features. Hair well cared for, despite living on the streets. So she liked her hair. She was doing well, and probably had money initially, so why would she be living on the streets? Rich background and wanting a change of it? Disliking parents? The later was more common. Sherlock had seen teenagers out on the streets because they didn't want to stay at home. Still, he would wait until he had more data.

[Samantha 'Sam' Puckett]

Sam blinked. So he'd seen? She regarded him carefully, taking in his appearance. Dark hair. Tallish. A detective of some sort, maybe. Sam raised her eyebrows. "I need it, so I'm afraid not." came her reply to him. She figured that this wasn't going to make him drop the subject but it was buying time. She wasn't thinking of making an escape though.

Sam looked around her and then back at the seeming-detective. Sam shook her head, freeing her hair from her hood to go to her sides, then she examined her surroundings again, taking in the details. Nobody was staring, nobody suspected her. She caught the shopkeeper who had been chasing her coming out of the shop.

Sam turned to the guy, and gave him a quick smile. "I've got to go, it was nice meeting you!" she said quickly, and began to move to go round him. She could hear the shopkeeper talking to someone, so she ducked down so he didn't see her moving away from the shop, despite her being quite far away already.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"I need it, so I'm afraid not." Sherlock's icy gaze regarded her as she said that. "You've stolen quite a few wallets in the past few months, from what I've heard. You're keeping up a good apperance, while others who are stuck on the street barely have enough for a new pair of clothes a month, from cheap shops. Most of them don't steal and even those who do are not in posession of as much money as you. So I recomend that you return the wallet." Sherlock said, calmly.

The detective's gaze briefly flickered to the shop keeper, than man who had been chasing the theif, as she turned to look back at him. If she stayed any longer she would be recognised. "I've got to go, it was nice meeting you!" As she went to move around him, Sherlock flickered out one gloed hand and caught her by the wrist. It wouldn't be hard for him to find the wallet if it were still on her and return it, but there was more to stead. "You don't have anywhere to go." He commented lightly.

Turning to look at her, the detective briefly examined the ignorant humans around them, who did not seem aware of anything. "Has no one informed you of the Homeless Network?" He asked, not saying that she could join or even expanding on the subject. It was unlikely that anyone would. They ahd to be on the look out for criminals to be turned in. if the criminal underworld knew about the Homeless Network it would defeat the point of it. Either way, the thief would end up with two options.

[Samantha 'Sam' Puckett]

"The truth is...when I stole the wallets in the past, some of the money was used on the food and clothes...and then people stole the wallets from me. The one I have at home now is running out from the food I've been getting, so I really do need this one." Sam replied.

As the guy grabbed her, Sam struggled a bit, then relaxed when the shopkeeper went inside, stupidly not noticing her.When he said she had nowhere to go, she wanted to point out that she had a den, but she didn't say that. That would be foolish. Then she paused. "I've heard of it. Why?" Sam asked. She had been considering joining but as they caught criminals...if she was ever caught on record and she went and somebody brought her up...well, things would just get complicated. Sam would surely be arrested, and she really didn't want that. She glanced once again around her and rolled her eyes.

The people weren't even paying any attention to her, or indeed the scene that had been playing out. People were so boring and uncaring. Plus they could most likely miss something that was slap bang in front of them. Honestly, Sam couldn't understand why she was a human sometimes. She'd often had a theory that she was a robot or something. Crazy, but a theory all the same. Sam looked back at the man.

"By the way, you never said.." Sam said, remembering something. "Who exactly are you?" she asked, curiosity immediately taking over. She hated her curiosity when it took over her other emotions but in this case she was indeed very curious of who he was. After all, he didn't seem to be reporting her to the police...at least, not yet. Sam had no doubt that he would eventually.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"The truth is...when I stole the wallets in the past, some of the money was used on the food and clothes...and then people stole the wallets from me. The one I have at home now is running out from the food I've been getting, so I really do need this one." Sherlock's face was not caring as he regarded her. "You steal these things and you leave it open for people to steal from you. I don't think you can complain about their actions." Sherlock said coldly.

The stranger struggiling did not loosen Sherlock's grip and instead, his cold gaze remained fixed on her face. Eventually she gave up, no one had noticed. "I've heard of it. Why?" Evidentally they hadn't invited her, and if she had heard of it, then it meant that they were getting worse at their work, he would have to talk to them about it. "They're getting worse, it appears." Sherlock muttered, still holding onto the theif's arm, not letting her escape. "I was curious." Sherlock replied lightly, to the question.

"By the way, you never said.." Sherlock looked at her and knew it was going to be a question about his name. It was obvious on her face. "Who exactly are you?" "You didn't say either, did you? But its obvious that you had a good background, parents on the higher end of the money earning spectrum and now you are living on the streets. You didn't get on too well with your parents. Now that your living on the streets, your are stealing wallets and paying a vast amount of attention to your hair, not something common among the homeless. So earning a lot more money out of your stealing buisness than any of them." Sherlock commented.

"Now, I would recomend that you return the wallet, first, then listen to what I have to suggest to you. If you want another option, Scotland Yard is not too far away." Sherlock commented. "And the name is Sherlock Holmes, if you haven't been able to figure it all out yet." he said. To Sherlock, it would have been an easy conclusion, especially with the whole thing about his death eighteen months ago and all that news. But it was not obvious to everyone.

[Samantha 'Sam' Puckett]

Sam sighed. Then she nodded. "I can't complain, I know." she admitted, slightly reluctantly. But she was certain that didn't show on her face, she made sure of that. She paused, listening to what he had to say, then she sighed.

"I hated my parents. Rich, I suppose they were. But my parents died. My brother was taken into care. I wasn't going to go to those children home dumps. They probably wouldn't have me anyway." Sam shrugged. At his comment at her hair, she became slightly defensive. "Hey, I don't---Okay, maybe a bit. But that doesn't matter." she said. But she saw the customer leaving the shop, the one she had stolen from, and she sidled over there.

She handed over the wallet and apologized. She quickly explained her condition and the person just nodded, gave her a small smile, then went away. Sam went back over to Sherlock. "There." she said. After all, he had wanted her to do it. Then she remembered; great Sherlock Holmes, the death, the return etc. Geez, he had quite a background.


Sam wondered what it was he was going to suggest to her. She tilted her head, wondering if he was surprised that she handed it over to the customer. Sam knew that she wouldn't have done that usually, but she felt a bit willing today, she had no idea why. She then watched the shopkeeper poke his head out of the shop, frown at her and then go back in. She rolled her eyes with a smile, then stopped as she looked back at the detective. She wasn't scared or anxious she was just a bit...nervous. What exactly was he going to propose she did? After all, Scotland Yard might not be the best place for her to go, but if she didn't like this suggestion she would go.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"I can't complain, I know." As Sherlock examined her, he heard the reluctance. Most people wanted something to complain about and when they found something that they usually complained about, but had to cause to, that generally disappointed them. Usually Sherlock himself complained about the stupidity of everyone and the lack of interesting cases. So far, no one had thought of a good reason as to why he couldn't complain about these things. Which was a positive. Not that Sherlock would listen if someone did come up with a reason, anyway.

"I hated my parents. Rich, I suppose they were. But my parents died. My brother was taken into care. I wasn't going to go to those children home dumps. They probably wouldn't have me anyway." Nothing came across Sherlock's features as he realised that he had not been completely correct. he had reached the conclusion that she hated her parents via a different route. He could have been wrong by following that route. But rich had been correct. At least he had been correct on most parts. Storing the information away, the detective noticed a slightly sad man moving to leave the shop. The victim of the theif's work.

"Hey, I don't---Okay, maybe a bit. But that doesn't matter." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her reply to his comment about her hair. It was obvious in the way that she replied as well. Finally, she noticed the man leaving the store and Sherlock watched carefully as she went over to him and returned the wallet, appologising. The man seemed suprised and Sherlock gave a small smile at this. Humans always reacted in ways that were so predictable yet he was unable to understand why they reacted as such.

"There." Sherlock gave a nod. "Well done. I would recommend that you return the other wallets to the police station at some point, but seeing as most of the others have either been taken, then used or returned for the reward, or simply just used by you, that it is not something that is in your power. However, you are aware that you can earn money, even if you are on the street," Sherlock commented. "Homeless Netwrok." he added, his eyes briefly scanning the area. it would be safer to talk elsewhere. Probably 221B would be a good place.

[Samantha 'Sam' Puckett]

Sam listened to him, and judging by his features thought that he wanted to talk elsewhere. She didn't blame him; Sam had a feeling she knew what he was going to propose. But she was going to wait and see if her theory was right. Sam watched him for a moment, considering something, and then after a short argument in her head came to a stupid decision.

"If you want to talk somewhere more..private, then I have a place to go." Sam said after a pause. It was very, very reckless, but Sam would be sure to do something to make the door to her den blend in so nobody else could find it. Possibly install another lock.

Sam fought the urge to look round her. A sudden beeping from her phone caused her to roll her eyes and pull it out, peering at it. It was a news report her phone had picked up. Big deal, like anything they had to say mattered to her. It didn't involve anybody she was close with, not that she was close with anyone but her brother who she didn't even have contact with, so she wasn't at all interested. She put her phone in her pocket, sparing a few thoughts for her brother and her vow to herself that she would get him out of care someday, before snapping out of it.

Sam turned her attention back to the detective, finally noticing he was extremely calm about this whole thing. Wallet stealing and everything. So that made her come to the conclusion that he was a detective and that he had dealt with things like this before. But this wasn't of significance. Sam was just trying to gather some information from the features and everything for future reference. She did that with people sometimes, it was just a habit of hers whenever she met someone.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"If you want to talk somewhere more..private, then I have a place to go." Sherlock looked at the theif as she said that. She ahd still yet to give her name, but that didn't bother Sherlock. it was unimportant so far. "Your hide out?" He asked, but it was more of a statement. most homeless people would head to their hide outs, areas that they believed to be secret, but you could never be sure and Sherlock prefered the comfort of his own living room. That way he could be sure that there were no cameras or microphones. Mind you, before his death he had missed some cameras.

"We can also talk at my flat." Sherlock commented, when the sound of beeping rang across the street. No one else noticed, just another phone. but it was coming from the thief. She ahd a phone, which was not a common thing amoung the homeless. As she took out the phone to look at it, Sherlock's eyes quickly caught the screen. News report. More recent brand of phone that could recieve them. Some of the homeless network had similar phones, partly funded by him at times. Very useful for them and with contacting him.

Watching the thief as she looked at the phone, Sherlock saw that she wasn't interested, but she had scanned it. Keeping an eye out for something? It was possible that she was keeping an eye out for any news about her. Or her brother. He still had no idea how her parents died. One of them could have been a genetic disease. Although it was mroe likely to be something else, such as a car crash. "The news isn't always reliable." Sherlock commented. Moriarty had used the media to try and destroy Sherlock. It hadn't worked, Sherlock had returned and so had Moriarty.

[Samantha 'Sam' Puckett]

Sam shrugged. "If you don't mind, I think it's better we talk at your flat." she said. She was being honest; she thought it was better if her hideout was kept secret. As he commented about the news, she shrugged.

"Well, I was just looking out to see if my brother was on there. That's why my phone beeped, it does that whenever there is a news report. I just like to check." Sam explained. What she didn't say was that she was planning to bust him out of the kids home. After all, he deserved to be with her. She needed him, really.

"But you're right, it isn't always reliable." Sam admitted. She shrugged. Sometimes the people on the news could be irritatingly vague and that really annoyed her. They often didn't say where and what exactly, they would just say London or something about an hour ago. Sam would prefer if it was exact because she liked to go and see things like that, just in case she could find her brother there.

She was a bit paranoid about getting him back. Like maybe if he'd been fostered, or if he didn't want to see her, or if he wanted to stay at the children's home. They were all possibilities but they seemed unlike her brother. Still, she hoped when/if she found him he would understand that she was doing all this because she loved him and wanted him to be happy, and if that meant him staying at the children's home that would be fine.

Sam just wanted to see him again is all, because she kept feeling lonely and hurt, because she was in her den all alone and nobody wanted to be her friend for long and that hurt her. She acted like she didn't care but she wasn't always Miss Tough Girl.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"If you don't mind, I think it's better we talk at your flat." Sherlock regarded her breifly, then nodded, his eyes briefly scanning the road for a cab. It was faster to drive. The thief probably wanted to keep her hide out secret. Not that it was any use. Sherlock had a pretty good idea where it was and some searching would reveal it if he ever needed to. It was Sherlock's job to know what was going on in London, or more of the criminal underowlrd of London. Mycroft job was to know everything and control it all.

"Well, I was just looking out to see if my brother was on there. That's why my phone beeped, it does that whenever there is a news report. I just like to check." Sherlock regarded her briefly, before speaking. "Its unliekly that he would appear. Adoptions don't make the news unless you are extremely important, which neither of you are. just a rich family. Your brother dying is unlikely, and its not probable that if he were hit by a car it would be published. Its unlikely that he will be shot, although that would make the news. If he turned criminal and then caught, that would probably make the news." Sherlock commented coldly.

"But you're right, it isn't always reliable." "Which is why i would suggest that you find out where he resides and what there if you want to keep an update on him. Its a lot easier." Sherlock commented. Finally, he saw a cab and he hailed it. The car pulled up to the pavement. Getting in, Sherlock left the door open for the theif to get in. " Baker Street." Sherlock said. He never gave his direct adress, that usualy got more questions than he wanted.

[Samantha 'Sam' Puckett]

"Well, that is true. He was never as bold as me so I doubt he would steal anything without returning it from guilt. But you never know what could happen." Sam said. When Sherlock hailed a cab, Sam just watched. She wasn't planning on running away, she wasn't so much of a coward.

Sam got in after Sherlock and shut the door behind her. Baker Street. Not a bad name for a street. But of course, Sam hadn't really heard any others so she would think that. As the cabbie nodded and started driving, Sam fell silent. When she was younger, did her parents use a taxi to go round? Sam couldn't remember. And she then remembered that they had two cars to use. Stupid rich family.

Sam looked out of the window at everything, the trees, the people and wondered what the world would be like if there were aliens and no trees and things. Sam mentally told herself that she had to stop using her vivid imagination in this sort of situation. Sam looked round the cab at the smart leather seats, and her eyes traveled past Sherlock, past the cabbie, taking it all in. Then Sam once again watched out of the window as the cabbie continued to drive. The silence was awkward, but Sam didn't mind; it wasn't unbearable, at least.

[Sherlock Holmes]

"Well, that is true. He was never as bold as me so I doubt he would steal anything without returning it from guilt. But you never know what could happen." Sherlock looked at her, then gave a small sigh. "That's why its a lot simpler to go to where he is being kept and keeping an eye out there. You get the right information, from a realiable source." Sherlock told her. It would be easy to watch him if she picked the right moments. Choosing the right time, acting in the right way. That was how you could pass unnoticed and get the correct information.

The journey in the cab was quite, Sherlock prefered that. John usually wanted to talk, which was something that Sherlock did not enjoy. He prefered silence, it gave him a chance to think about situations. Idle chatter was unimportant and the detective would rather not have to deal with such things. There wasn't much left to deduce, but Sherlock kept a record of criminal activty and any suspicous deaths or simply anything that could come in useful. he could check to see if there was anything that could be the theif's parents.

As they reached 221B Baker Strret, Sherlock paid the cabbie and got out. It would be a bit of a walk to his flat, but better than having to answer questions about who his was and his life. "Its a bit of a walk left. You won't mind." Sherlock commented as the cab drove away. About 100 metres away, that was rather close in comparison to other distances. Sometimes Sherlock had to travel a lot further to get to areas that he wanted to reach.

[Samantha 'Sam' Puckett]

A lot of things were going on in Sam's head right now. She was racking up memories of her old life, and they were slowly coming back to her. Her parents, her brother..how she'd taught herself to read and cook and things..all of it. Sam figured she'd buried the memories in her head because she just didn't want to remember.

And yet sometimes people had said remembering past life was a good thing. It wasn't, for Sam. But she was now remembering her and her brother playing together. That was one of her best memories because her brother meant so much to her. She decided to go to the children's home in London to see him. Or to see if there was any trace of him. If he had gone to a foster home, she would ask where it was and go and visit him. Just once, if that was what he wanted. And that was the close of her thoughts. She needed to stop thinking of her brother for now and focus on this...proposition Sherlock had for her.

Sam got out after Sherlock, and glanced at the cabbie as he drove away. When Sherlock mentioned a bit of a walk, Sam focused on him and shrugged. "I don't mind walking." she replied to him, though she knew he hadn't been asking her.