Fic: 

There were a lot of things Balmoral had come to expect in his line of work, a lot of unexpected twists and turns that were really anything but. For someone constantly on the move, learning various thought processes and motivations, he still couldn’t understand why HE did what he did.

The reasons were solid enough, he supposed. He could even understand how the simplest of omissions about personal lives could change the known so drastically. He sighed, slumping back against his pillow, and closed his eyes, willed himself to not think about all that had transpired just the day before.

“Hello, how are you feeling?” The pathologist asked. If he was being honest with himself, the actual injury itself didn’t quite hurt all that much. Sandringham had always been a good shot, and he knew, just the small, silly, hopeful part of him, that if he wanted to truly injure him, he would have.

He responded honestly. “A lot better, thank you.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Someone’s here to see you.”

Balmoral frowned, then nodded, curious to see who it was. He didn’t have a lot of contacts apart from the mechanical detective and his journalist friend, but they were busy with this case. He laughed slightly. Who would’ve though this, albeit high-profile, benign disappearance would turn out to be so much more?

“Feeling better?”

He blinked. THIS was definitely not whom he expected to see. Not here. Not now.

“No thanks to you,” he huffed in return.

Sandringham smiled, that perfect combination of charm and embarassment. “I do apologise, but I did what I had to do. Besides, I only grazed you.”

“You HAD to shoot me.”

“To distract the detective and the journalist, of course.”

Right. Of course he’d have an answer prepared. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I couldn’t. You know that.”

“Considering that it was a threat to the country, I would actually say, YOU SHOULD HAVE!”

“You don’t understand.”

Balmoral clenched his jaw. “You’re damn right, I don’t.”

“We haven’t got much time, and I haven’t quite finished what I came here to do.”

“Kill me?”

He shook his head. “Tell you the truth. About everything. You might want to settle in though, it’s a long story.”

Balmoral looked over at his bandages, and then back at Sandringham. “I have nothing but time.”

Sandringham whistled. “And also some almonds. Look, there’s a note.”

“What does it say?”

“Just two words. Solito negotium.”

They exchanged glances. Business as usual.

It had become something of a code between them, an exchange that grew in meaning the longer they worked together. Balmoral knew that Sandringham wasn’t the one who sent the card, whether it was something in his manner, or the utter bewilderment in his eyes, he wasn’t sure.

“I know what you are thinking, and I forbid you.”

“I can walk, all I need is a cane and some practice.”

“Balmoral-”

“Whenever you asked me to trust you, I did. Be it uni, or now. All I’m asking, right now, is that you do the same.”

Sandringham sighed, seeming to relent. “Very well, I’ll talk to Septimus.”

He grinned, feeling a lot happier than before. “Business as usual?”

Fic: 

Running a new detective agency with your partner can be quite the task, as Fleet was slowly beginning to learn. Over the course of the last week, he’d been dragged all across London to find the owner of brooch, more or less reduced his inhibitions about the Flying Circus, been switched off and kidnapped subsequently, and succeeded in taking down a nationwide spy ring. There was another little(major) worry he’d had, but he didn’t quite wish to think about it, right then.

Right then, he was a machination, a true marvel of science, set off to go find a missing cat.

He had made it something of a habit to reach the offices early, in case something truly threatening should cross his desk. Clara, surprisingly, had turned out to be something of a night light, and stayed the evenings, even wandering the area till as late as three in the morning.

Right then, this had actually worked out in her favour, so Fleet was left all alone hunting for a miniscule cat in a city that he could only describe as being larger than life.

“Come on, Archie, you can find a cat. Surely.”

“And I have no doubt, that you can.”

He jumped back, surprised, only to find that it was the team who’d dragged him into the mess that was the previous week, in the first place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off doing secret missions for the Queen and suchlike?”

Balmoral, was it, rolled his eyes, while Sandringham(Vidocq’s twin child, if he remembered correctly) smiled cryptically. “That’s for us to know, and you to never find out.”

“Hopefully,” he muttered. “Then if it isn’t for a mission, what EXACTLY are you doing here?”

“Oh, we just thought we’d say goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

“Yes, goodbye.”

“So, why do you have to find a cat?”

He shrugged. “For a client. It’s almost relaxing in a way, not having to deal with some nationwide conspiracy for once.”

The partners laughed, following which Balmoral added: “That’s there. I almost envy your simplicity, detective.”

“And your stupidity,” Sandringham snarked.

“I will have you know; I have almost found the cat.”

“Have you now?”

Fleet may have learned how to keep secrets over the years, but everyone he ever spoke to, generally agreed that he was a terrible liar.

“No, not really. I do not even know where to start!”

“Well, I used to own a tabby at university once-“ Sandringham nodded in agreement, as if remembering something fondly. “and she went missing for a bit, when I was in my final year. As if on a wild impulse, one day, I left out an old jumper that she loved sleeping in and some water in a bowl, where I’d seen her last. Three days later, I found her, sleeping in it, as if nothing had ever happened!”

Fleet gaped; he had to admit, this had never really struck him as a possible solution. Now that Balmoral had described it, practically pointed it out, really, he knew exactly where to start.  

“That-that actually makes sense, thank you!”

“Happy to help, detective.”

With that, the two left, while Fleet rushed off towards what had been the former location of the Tower, and made the preparations accordingly. As he began laying out the owner’s clothing, he heard footsteps approaching.

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m late, Augusta had this whole incredible assignment about a wheel and a paper becoming friends- What are you doing?”

“Oh, we had a client today who lost her cat. This is how I plan to find her.”

“Looks fascinating, let’s hope it works!” She paused, then added, “I thought I’d find you here actually.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Well, it’s where the Tower used to be. I would understand if….” She trailed off, letting her concerns hang in the air.

“Ah, don’t worry too much about it.” He continued to work, while he talked, though there was something about Clara’s very presence that seemed to speed the entire process along. He couldn’t quite explain what, but it wasn’t…….unpleasant, exactly.

He finished the set-up, looked up at her and asked, “Should we leave?”

“Absolutely.”

Neither quite had the heart to hire a cab, so they walked back to the coffeehouse, where they would resume their work.

“There’s actually a reason why I went looking for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. Clara hadn’t seemed all that worried when she first arrived….or had he simply failed to notice? “What was it?”

“Er, I think it’s best if you just saw for yourself.”

She flipped through her notebook, a new acquisition, and pulled out a small piece of paper, neatly folded in the pages. “I found this slipped under our door when I reached the offices. What do you think it means?”

He blinked at the words, scrawled across in a neat cursive. Ego ne hic quidem. “I-I’m afraid my Latin is rather poor, Clara.”

She looked back at him, unimpressed. “I know what the phrase means, Fleet. I’m not even here. It’s what I said to you when we visited the crime scene and you didn’t want me to keep interrupting. How would they know?”

He pursed his lips, realization slowly dawning on him. “Someone is watching us. If we don’t find out who, and fast, it could mean trouble.”