[Sherlock] Circo de Pastel - 2/13
Title: Circo de Pastel
Author: Mesita
Words: 2458/4126/50,000+
Pairings: Sherlock/John (Eventual) Lestrade/Mycroft (Implied)
Warnings: Slight torture, kidnapping, violence, death
Summary: John Watson runs away to join a circus where he is forced to live with the resident consulting psychic. After one of the circus members is murdered, it's up to John and Sherlock to solve the case.
First Chapter
CHAPTER TWO
THE CIRCUS
John made one last stop to the bathroom to see what he could do about the cut on his forehead. It did not appear as though he needed any stitches, which was a relief. In the end, he only cleaned it up as best he could, taped a bit of gauze to the wound and rushed out of the house as fast as his legs could carry him.
He half expected his father to follow him out the door, and when that did not happen, he expected him to then follow him in his car, but he lucked out in that scenario as well. His father was probably too enraged to have changed his mind, yet, and for that John was incredibly thankful.
He instead turned his attention to the more pressing matter at hand: where was he going to go? At first he thought about going to live with Harriet, but he had no idea where she had gone off to, or if he would even feel safe with her anymore. He doubted that he would.
There were a number of youth hostels in the city, but the more he wandered out of his neighborhood, the more he felt as though going to such a place was a bad idea. None of his relatives lived with a reasonable distance from his family home. His father had basically driven away anyone who had ever been important to John. John had never stooped so low as to hate his father as much as he did at that moment.
Frustrated, John dug his hand into his pack and felt around for the wad of emergency money. His mother had been hording and hiding money from his father for years, and when she passed away, he had taken the stash more to keep hiding it from his father as opposed to spending it for himself. He had quite a few hundred quid on him. He could spare a cab ride to a cheap motel. There was no sense in over-spending, seeing as he had no idea just how long he was going to be out in the world alone.
After some time, John made it out onto a road busy enough for him to hail a cab. Rather than give an address, he asked for a cheap motel within reasonable driving distance. His family lived on the further edges of the city, so he could not ask for a better situation. Cheap motels were often scattered at that edge between the city and the country.
John hadn’t yet allowed himself to accept what had happened. In his mind, he probably already knew this day would come. He even would have left no matter what took place that day when he came home. After his mother had left for good, there was nothing holding him to that house, anymore. His father could deal with everything that happened in that horrible place from there on out.
John swallowed hard and squinted out the window. He could see perfectly fine, but nevertheless, he felt as though his eyes were playing tricks on him. The tall buildings of the city were thinning out and replaced slowly with wider and wider expanses of green. That green was suddenly interrupted by bright strobe lights and the unmistakable sight of a red and yellow circus tent.
John leaned forward in his seat to speak to the cab driver. “Do you happen to know how long that circus has been in town?”
The cab driver managed to steal a glance away from the road long enough to register the circus in the distance. “Oh, you mean Circo de Pastel?”
John did a double-take at the circus. “A Cake Circus?” Who would name a circus such a ridiculous thing? He wondered if it was any good.
The cabbie seemed to have read his mind. “It has gotten some pretty excellent reviews. Turns out they have a genuine psychic, as well as a magician that can do wonders no man can fathom.”
John did not even take more than three seconds to contemplate his decision. The thought of wasting his life away in a dank motel room did not appeal to him. He was escaping the terrible confines of his own home. The very same home that had been nothing more than a prison to him for nearly half his life was now far behind him. To say he needed a change of pace and scenery was a gross understatement. “Take me there.”
“You sure? Don’t you need to get to that motel? You were very adamant on it, earlier.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to the circus.”
The cabbie looked in the rearview mirror as if that could help him make his decision. It honestly was not even his to make and he simply did as he was told.
In mere moments, John was standing just outside the circus gates. He did not know the first thing about what he was doing, but he figured it would not hurt to take a look around just to see what he was getting himself into.
The circus was beautifully constructed, and it was bustling with activity. Despite the fact that it was already late afternoon, there was a long line at the ticket counter. John pulled his oversized bag of belongings to the line. It felt awkward to be carrying so much on him when everyone else was dressed appropriate to visiting the circus.
The wait in line gave John some time to allow his mind to catch up with the rest of his body. He had been on autopilot for the larger half of the entire week; and even more so in the past few hours. He had yet to really mourn over his mother’s death, and standing in line at the circus was definitely not the right place to do that.
In fact, he was not even sure as to why he was here in the first place. The colors were bright, the atmosphere was cheerful-it was completely different than his norm. He had wanted to have a change of scenery, yes, but surely there were better options than the circus! No, there must have been a real underlying reason for his pull toward this place. He would just have to be patient until he found the source of the magnetism.
When it came his turn to get a ticket, the lady behind the counter smiled at him. She had smooth, dark skin and her wiry, bushy hair stuck out in all directions from under her ticket sales cap. Her name tag read: Sally. “How many?” she asked smoothly.
“Uh, just the one,” John said as he reached into his emergency stash.
“Eight pounds,” said Sally the ticket lady. “Here you are. Don’t lose it. If you want to get into the big top to see the three rings, you’ll need to show the bouncer the stub.” She handed over the ticket as John handed over the correct bills.
“Right.” John smiled back at her and held up the ticket to show he understood. “Thanks.”
The ticket master barely acknowledged his existence as he sidled past her out onto the main circus grounds. The grass had been padded flat by the thousands of feet to the point that it was almost smooth under John’s shoes. He easily weaved himself in and out of the crowd, taking the sights and sounds of the circus in all at once. The air smelled heavily of popcorn and cooking oil, and to John it was magnificent.
Some of the more prominent trolleys stood outside the larger tent, peddling their wares. There were generic Circo de Pastel tee shirts with a circus tent shaped like a cake on the front. John would have bought a shirt for himself, but he figured his money could be better spent elsewhere. He had had nothing to eat nearly the entire day, so he stopped to buy an elephant ear to snack on. The fried dough sat heavy on his stomach. He knew it was the furthest thing from healthy, but at that point, he did not mind. He was at the circus.
He passed the trolleys filled with necklaces and rings and other shining pieces of jewelry, past the bags and clothes and clown paraphernalia, past the noise makers and junk food. He had never seen so many different booths for funnel cakes, sausages, frankenfurters, cupcakes, cotton candy, various meats on a stick, rock candy, snow cones, ice lollies, empanadas, tamales, tortas, frijoles and gorditas. The circus had a Spanish name, so John was not surprised to see a wide variety of fried Spanish or Mexican-themed cuisine.
Some of the attractions the circus held were located outside the big tent as well. While the main show hosted many different feats of strength and performances, some of the circus existed solely as a side show.
The first stall John stumbled upon was for the bearded lady. She stood on a platform and spoke to a few of the patrons as they crowded about her. Beside her stood a massive poster declaring everything the viewer needed to know about this attraction.
Jennifer Wilson -THE PINK BEARDED LADY
Come see the woman with the incredible beard!
Some men can only wish they were capable of growing such a dedicated piece of work!
NO flash photography.
NO offers of food or drink.
Do NOT touch the beard unless given full permission by Jennifer.
Do NOT pull on the beard. It is real and it will hurt.
Do NOT heckle, harass, beat, stress or insult the lady.
Here, someone had written, “Unless you want your face beaten in” in red permanent marker. John suspected it may have been by Jennifer herself.
John then turned his attention to Miss Wilson. Despite the beard, she was an incredibly handsome woman. The owner of the circus must have forced her to keep herself extremely feminine other than the beard to further show the contrast of just how odd the phenomena could be. She wore a form-fitting pink pea coat that reached her knees, stockings and high heels. It was a bit chilly outside, especially for a late October afternoon. Her dark blonde hair fell around her shoulders perfectly. Her beard, however, grew in at a slightly lighter shade of blonde. If anything, John chuckled to himself, she looked like Jesus of Nazareth if he were a woman, and blonde…. and lived in the 21st century. Okay, or perhaps not like Jesus at all.
Jennifer was currently speaking to some children in the front and seemed pre-occupied. That was all well and good because it made John feel less awkward for staring. After a moment, however, she looked up to scan the crowd briefly and accidentally caught John’s eye. Unsure of what to do, John smiled a bit nervously. She smiled back and for a split second John thought he saw something in her eyes-a bit of mischievousness, almost playful and not at all malicious. She tilted her head for a second and John realized she was indicating the strange bandage he had on his own head. He touched it for a moment. He had completely forgotten where his father had hit him with that mug earlier today. He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head to get his thoughts back to the circus and not on his recent past.
John quickly turned away feeling uncomfortable. He moved onto the next exhibit. The patrons here were making catcalls and hollering loudly. It took a moment for John to register than most of the voices were male. When he looked up, he was delighted to see an incredibly beautiful woman. His jaw nearly dropped to the ground when he saw her. Her wavy dark brown hair was tied back into a taut ponytail, and she had on an immensely bright sequined leotard.
John watched with a mix between awe and horror as she doubled over backwards, touched her wrists to her ankles and rolled forward on the stage to the sound of hoots from the crowd. John looked to find her poster out of curiosity. It read:
Irene Adler - CONTORTIONIST
Marvel in her extreme flexibility!
Watch her bend in ways previously thought humanly impossible!
NO flash photography.
NO offers of food or drink.
Do NOT touch in an attempt to throw Irene off balance.
Do NOT heckle, harass, beat, stress or insult the lady.
John raised an eyebrow in astonishment. This Irene was truly magnificent at her art. He watched her contort her body into the most painful looking of poses for a while and decided it was probably best to move on, seeing as it was a bit late. That, and the catcalls from the other men were beginning to grate on John’s nerves.
He passed a strong man by the name of Sebastian Moran. He had muscles upon muscles and demonstrated this by lifting the heaviest of objects. One barbell looked so heavy, John was certain it was a fake. With a chuckle, John trudged onward.
He wandered about the grounds for a little longer. At the far end of the circus grounds, he noticed a decent sized trailer not unlike the old gypsy caravans. It was decorated in purples and greens and blues to give it a more fantasy-like appeal, probably to attract patrons more than anything. In scrawling, beautiful letters were the words:
Sherlock Holmes: The World’s Only Consulting Psychic
John licked his lips without thinking about it and took a step closer to the establishment. There was no activity about it for some distance, and it looked as though it were closed. John frowned. He had been enjoying what the circus had to offer so far, and he had hoped he could see what this consulting psychic business was all about. He remembered briefly that the cabbie had said the psychic was amazing. He had also mentioned a magician, but John had seen no sign of the latter.
In the distance, he could hear a loudspeaker boom. “Come one, come all! Welcome to the Circo de Pastel! Come feast your eyes on the greatest feat you will witness in your lives! Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen, as the show is about to begin!”
John pulled himself from the strange allure of the consulting psychic and began his trek to the big tent. The bag he had been carrying which held all of his possessions was beginning to get rather heavy and he felt as though having a good sit down would relieve him of the tension that was building in his left shoulder.
With a sigh, John began his journey back to the large multi-colored tent.
Next Chapter
Author: Mesita
Words: 2458/4126/50,000+
Pairings: Sherlock/John (Eventual) Lestrade/Mycroft (Implied)
Warnings: Slight torture, kidnapping, violence, death
Summary: John Watson runs away to join a circus where he is forced to live with the resident consulting psychic. After one of the circus members is murdered, it's up to John and Sherlock to solve the case.
First Chapter
CHAPTER TWO
THE CIRCUS
John made one last stop to the bathroom to see what he could do about the cut on his forehead. It did not appear as though he needed any stitches, which was a relief. In the end, he only cleaned it up as best he could, taped a bit of gauze to the wound and rushed out of the house as fast as his legs could carry him.
He half expected his father to follow him out the door, and when that did not happen, he expected him to then follow him in his car, but he lucked out in that scenario as well. His father was probably too enraged to have changed his mind, yet, and for that John was incredibly thankful.
He instead turned his attention to the more pressing matter at hand: where was he going to go? At first he thought about going to live with Harriet, but he had no idea where she had gone off to, or if he would even feel safe with her anymore. He doubted that he would.
There were a number of youth hostels in the city, but the more he wandered out of his neighborhood, the more he felt as though going to such a place was a bad idea. None of his relatives lived with a reasonable distance from his family home. His father had basically driven away anyone who had ever been important to John. John had never stooped so low as to hate his father as much as he did at that moment.
Frustrated, John dug his hand into his pack and felt around for the wad of emergency money. His mother had been hording and hiding money from his father for years, and when she passed away, he had taken the stash more to keep hiding it from his father as opposed to spending it for himself. He had quite a few hundred quid on him. He could spare a cab ride to a cheap motel. There was no sense in over-spending, seeing as he had no idea just how long he was going to be out in the world alone.
After some time, John made it out onto a road busy enough for him to hail a cab. Rather than give an address, he asked for a cheap motel within reasonable driving distance. His family lived on the further edges of the city, so he could not ask for a better situation. Cheap motels were often scattered at that edge between the city and the country.
John hadn’t yet allowed himself to accept what had happened. In his mind, he probably already knew this day would come. He even would have left no matter what took place that day when he came home. After his mother had left for good, there was nothing holding him to that house, anymore. His father could deal with everything that happened in that horrible place from there on out.
John swallowed hard and squinted out the window. He could see perfectly fine, but nevertheless, he felt as though his eyes were playing tricks on him. The tall buildings of the city were thinning out and replaced slowly with wider and wider expanses of green. That green was suddenly interrupted by bright strobe lights and the unmistakable sight of a red and yellow circus tent.
John leaned forward in his seat to speak to the cab driver. “Do you happen to know how long that circus has been in town?”
The cab driver managed to steal a glance away from the road long enough to register the circus in the distance. “Oh, you mean Circo de Pastel?”
John did a double-take at the circus. “A Cake Circus?” Who would name a circus such a ridiculous thing? He wondered if it was any good.
The cabbie seemed to have read his mind. “It has gotten some pretty excellent reviews. Turns out they have a genuine psychic, as well as a magician that can do wonders no man can fathom.”
John did not even take more than three seconds to contemplate his decision. The thought of wasting his life away in a dank motel room did not appeal to him. He was escaping the terrible confines of his own home. The very same home that had been nothing more than a prison to him for nearly half his life was now far behind him. To say he needed a change of pace and scenery was a gross understatement. “Take me there.”
“You sure? Don’t you need to get to that motel? You were very adamant on it, earlier.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to the circus.”
The cabbie looked in the rearview mirror as if that could help him make his decision. It honestly was not even his to make and he simply did as he was told.
In mere moments, John was standing just outside the circus gates. He did not know the first thing about what he was doing, but he figured it would not hurt to take a look around just to see what he was getting himself into.
The circus was beautifully constructed, and it was bustling with activity. Despite the fact that it was already late afternoon, there was a long line at the ticket counter. John pulled his oversized bag of belongings to the line. It felt awkward to be carrying so much on him when everyone else was dressed appropriate to visiting the circus.
The wait in line gave John some time to allow his mind to catch up with the rest of his body. He had been on autopilot for the larger half of the entire week; and even more so in the past few hours. He had yet to really mourn over his mother’s death, and standing in line at the circus was definitely not the right place to do that.
In fact, he was not even sure as to why he was here in the first place. The colors were bright, the atmosphere was cheerful-it was completely different than his norm. He had wanted to have a change of scenery, yes, but surely there were better options than the circus! No, there must have been a real underlying reason for his pull toward this place. He would just have to be patient until he found the source of the magnetism.
When it came his turn to get a ticket, the lady behind the counter smiled at him. She had smooth, dark skin and her wiry, bushy hair stuck out in all directions from under her ticket sales cap. Her name tag read: Sally. “How many?” she asked smoothly.
“Uh, just the one,” John said as he reached into his emergency stash.
“Eight pounds,” said Sally the ticket lady. “Here you are. Don’t lose it. If you want to get into the big top to see the three rings, you’ll need to show the bouncer the stub.” She handed over the ticket as John handed over the correct bills.
“Right.” John smiled back at her and held up the ticket to show he understood. “Thanks.”
The ticket master barely acknowledged his existence as he sidled past her out onto the main circus grounds. The grass had been padded flat by the thousands of feet to the point that it was almost smooth under John’s shoes. He easily weaved himself in and out of the crowd, taking the sights and sounds of the circus in all at once. The air smelled heavily of popcorn and cooking oil, and to John it was magnificent.
Some of the more prominent trolleys stood outside the larger tent, peddling their wares. There were generic Circo de Pastel tee shirts with a circus tent shaped like a cake on the front. John would have bought a shirt for himself, but he figured his money could be better spent elsewhere. He had had nothing to eat nearly the entire day, so he stopped to buy an elephant ear to snack on. The fried dough sat heavy on his stomach. He knew it was the furthest thing from healthy, but at that point, he did not mind. He was at the circus.
He passed the trolleys filled with necklaces and rings and other shining pieces of jewelry, past the bags and clothes and clown paraphernalia, past the noise makers and junk food. He had never seen so many different booths for funnel cakes, sausages, frankenfurters, cupcakes, cotton candy, various meats on a stick, rock candy, snow cones, ice lollies, empanadas, tamales, tortas, frijoles and gorditas. The circus had a Spanish name, so John was not surprised to see a wide variety of fried Spanish or Mexican-themed cuisine.
Some of the attractions the circus held were located outside the big tent as well. While the main show hosted many different feats of strength and performances, some of the circus existed solely as a side show.
The first stall John stumbled upon was for the bearded lady. She stood on a platform and spoke to a few of the patrons as they crowded about her. Beside her stood a massive poster declaring everything the viewer needed to know about this attraction.
Jennifer Wilson -THE PINK BEARDED LADY
Come see the woman with the incredible beard!
Some men can only wish they were capable of growing such a dedicated piece of work!
NO flash photography.
NO offers of food or drink.
Do NOT touch the beard unless given full permission by Jennifer.
Do NOT pull on the beard. It is real and it will hurt.
Do NOT heckle, harass, beat, stress or insult the lady.
Here, someone had written, “Unless you want your face beaten in” in red permanent marker. John suspected it may have been by Jennifer herself.
John then turned his attention to Miss Wilson. Despite the beard, she was an incredibly handsome woman. The owner of the circus must have forced her to keep herself extremely feminine other than the beard to further show the contrast of just how odd the phenomena could be. She wore a form-fitting pink pea coat that reached her knees, stockings and high heels. It was a bit chilly outside, especially for a late October afternoon. Her dark blonde hair fell around her shoulders perfectly. Her beard, however, grew in at a slightly lighter shade of blonde. If anything, John chuckled to himself, she looked like Jesus of Nazareth if he were a woman, and blonde…. and lived in the 21st century. Okay, or perhaps not like Jesus at all.
Jennifer was currently speaking to some children in the front and seemed pre-occupied. That was all well and good because it made John feel less awkward for staring. After a moment, however, she looked up to scan the crowd briefly and accidentally caught John’s eye. Unsure of what to do, John smiled a bit nervously. She smiled back and for a split second John thought he saw something in her eyes-a bit of mischievousness, almost playful and not at all malicious. She tilted her head for a second and John realized she was indicating the strange bandage he had on his own head. He touched it for a moment. He had completely forgotten where his father had hit him with that mug earlier today. He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head to get his thoughts back to the circus and not on his recent past.
John quickly turned away feeling uncomfortable. He moved onto the next exhibit. The patrons here were making catcalls and hollering loudly. It took a moment for John to register than most of the voices were male. When he looked up, he was delighted to see an incredibly beautiful woman. His jaw nearly dropped to the ground when he saw her. Her wavy dark brown hair was tied back into a taut ponytail, and she had on an immensely bright sequined leotard.
John watched with a mix between awe and horror as she doubled over backwards, touched her wrists to her ankles and rolled forward on the stage to the sound of hoots from the crowd. John looked to find her poster out of curiosity. It read:
Irene Adler - CONTORTIONIST
Marvel in her extreme flexibility!
Watch her bend in ways previously thought humanly impossible!
NO flash photography.
NO offers of food or drink.
Do NOT touch in an attempt to throw Irene off balance.
Do NOT heckle, harass, beat, stress or insult the lady.
John raised an eyebrow in astonishment. This Irene was truly magnificent at her art. He watched her contort her body into the most painful looking of poses for a while and decided it was probably best to move on, seeing as it was a bit late. That, and the catcalls from the other men were beginning to grate on John’s nerves.
He passed a strong man by the name of Sebastian Moran. He had muscles upon muscles and demonstrated this by lifting the heaviest of objects. One barbell looked so heavy, John was certain it was a fake. With a chuckle, John trudged onward.
He wandered about the grounds for a little longer. At the far end of the circus grounds, he noticed a decent sized trailer not unlike the old gypsy caravans. It was decorated in purples and greens and blues to give it a more fantasy-like appeal, probably to attract patrons more than anything. In scrawling, beautiful letters were the words:
Sherlock Holmes: The World’s Only Consulting Psychic
John licked his lips without thinking about it and took a step closer to the establishment. There was no activity about it for some distance, and it looked as though it were closed. John frowned. He had been enjoying what the circus had to offer so far, and he had hoped he could see what this consulting psychic business was all about. He remembered briefly that the cabbie had said the psychic was amazing. He had also mentioned a magician, but John had seen no sign of the latter.
In the distance, he could hear a loudspeaker boom. “Come one, come all! Welcome to the Circo de Pastel! Come feast your eyes on the greatest feat you will witness in your lives! Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen, as the show is about to begin!”
John pulled himself from the strange allure of the consulting psychic and began his trek to the big tent. The bag he had been carrying which held all of his possessions was beginning to get rather heavy and he felt as though having a good sit down would relieve him of the tension that was building in his left shoulder.
With a sigh, John began his journey back to the large multi-colored tent.
Next Chapter