The two of them stepped out onto Baker Street and stood at the curb, waiting for a cab.
"I still think we're taking a bit of a gamble here." Russell shoved his hands into his pockets and felt the cold wind hit him full in the face.
"And it's freezing."
"Once we've caught Pilsen, you can sit in front of a warm fire and rest until you drop dead," Charlotte said. Most of her head was buried in her collar too, and it made her voice come out muffled.
"Besides, it has to be tonight."
"Why?"
"In weather like this, even you don't want to leave the house. Do you really think he's going to be out wandering around?" Charlotte shot back.
"Even so, we haven't prepared anything." A note of resignation crept into Russell's voice. "Never mind that he's got home ground advantage. He might have a weapon, maybe even a gun. And the man's an old soldier himself. The two of us—"
"I brought my cane." Charlotte cut him off, pulling her coat open to show him the cane, folded down and tucked into the inner pocket.
"I don't think your skills quite stretch to deflecting bullets with a cane. Do you?"
Russell sighed.
"And even with a weapon, the gap in size and strength is always going to be—"
"That's why I have you as well, isn't it?"
Charlotte lifted her head and looked at him.
In the London night, under the glow of the street lamps, those grey-blue eyes were remarkably bright.
Like two stars burning in the dark, carrying a trust that allowed no argument, no doubt — a trust that was, frankly, high-handed.
"…"
That answer had no logic in it whatsoever, and it left Russell momentarily stunned.
"You're my assistant, aren't you?" Charlotte asked, in a tone that made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world. "With you here, what have I got to worry about?"
"I—" Russell found he had nothing to say. In the end he let out a helpless sigh. "Fine. If that's how you're going to put it. What else can a man say, sister? Take the life, it's yours."
While they were talking, an empty cab came rolling around the corner.
"Let's go."
Charlotte raised a hand first, and the cab drew to a stop in front of her.
Russell climbed in behind her.
"Where to, you two?" the driver asked.
"Clement Street."
"Right you are. Have a seat."
The cab pulled slowly away, carrying them into that woven pattern of gaslight and darkness.
Inside the carriage it was quiet.
Charlotte leaned against the window, watching the streets rush backwards past the glass, saying nothing, apparently turning over their next move.
Russell sat across from her with his arms folded and his eyes shut, running through the possibilities in his head.
In truth, he wasn't worried about Charlotte coming to harm.
Not with him there.
The worst case was nothing more than Moriarty's identity being exposed — and that still beat letting Charlotte get hurt.
It was only an alias. If it burned, it burned.
The real headache was how he'd face her afterwards.
That was exactly why he hadn't wanted to set off so abruptly.
One day of preparation. Half a day, even.
He'd have been perfectly happy to call in sick and go tomorrow instead.
At least then he could go out as the Phantom Thief in the dead of night, get Pilsen under control first, and serve the man's head up to Charlotte on a plate.
The thought made Russell frown.
Something about Charlotte was off today. He could feel it.
She hadn't let anything show, but those small tremors of feeling hadn't escaped his eye.
"Why have you gone quiet?"
Charlotte's voice broke the silence of the carriage.
Russell opened his eyes and looked at her, teasing, "Didn't want to disturb you while you were pondering the case, did I, Great Detective."
"There's nothing left to ponder about the case." Charlotte drew her gaze back from the window and settled it on his face. "What needs pondering now is how we act once we get there. How we take Pilsen without alerting him."
"A frontal approach… definitely won't work," Russell said after a moment's thought. "Pilsen's an old soldier. His alertness will be far above an ordinary man's. One sound that strikes him as wrong and he'll be on his guard."
"Glad to see your reason is still intact." Charlotte nodded. "So we'll need to slip in."
"Slip in how?" Russell raised an eyebrow.
"I've been to that house. I've a decent idea of the general layout," Charlotte said. "Three floors, plus a cellar and a small garden. The front door is out of the question — it's sealed, and we'd have to dodge the constables on the beat as well. The windows… he's most likely nailed those shut, and climbing through one makes a fair amount of noise."
She stopped there and was silent for a moment.
"Which leaves the garden as our only way in… and I've never been into the garden. I don't know the routes through it."
Russell listened without comment while a map of the Hannigan estate surfaced in his mind.
The garden did have a back door. In all likelihood, that was the back door Pilsen had used to get inside.
"I think the garden's a good bet," he said helpfully.
"Your reasoning?" Charlotte looked at him.
"The garden's large enough and there's plenty of planting, which makes Stealth easier," Russell said. "And we already know Hannigan's house must have a back door. If the point was to keep it out of sight, that sort of door is usually put in the garden."
Charlotte nodded, accepting the explanation.
"The garden it is."
She paused, then, as though something had occurred to her, raised her eyes to Russell. There was something complicated in them.
"Hey."
"Mm?"
"I ought to remind you — this isn't the same as that business at Buckingham Palace," Charlotte said, her tone growing heavier.
"Meaning?" Russell tilted his head, not following.
"At Buckingham Palace, you and Moriarty were on the same side," Charlotte explained. "So he wasn't going to hurt you. This time is different. Understand?"
Her expression turned grave as she spoke.
"Pilsen isn't Moriarty. He'll hurt you, and he might well kill you. So—"
"So look after myself, right?" Russell said. "I didn't think you'd worry about me."
"Nobody's worried about you." Charlotte fired back at once, then turned her face to the window. "I simply haven't worked out how I'd explain it to Mrs. Hudson if something happened to you."
"Message received."
Russell looked at that stubborn back and found himself smiling. "If it goes wrong, I'll be the first one running."
"Good." Charlotte pursed her lips. "Run fast."
"Got it," Russell said.
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