A Hurried Sherlock Moment

“Your hair smells like the Berlin Regent.” Ben commented – a quick whisper that made all five of us jump.

“You can smell that?”

“It’s the only hotel in Germany that uses winter jasmine and vanilla. Expensive too.”

“Now that is impressive.”


“You came through Berlin?” he paused, caught up with the other side of the conversation. “My name is Benedict.”

“Easy, your highness,” I hissed. We ducked at the same time as a shadow passed beyond the wall, crouched side by side in the darkness. “Yeah what’s wrong with Berlin?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he murmured. I narrowed my eyes. “Just a strange choice if you really were trying to stay under the radar.”

“Well we thought we’d literally take a page out of Tolkein’s book. ‘The closer you are from danger, the farther you are from harm.’”

“Implying that you’re… hobbits?”

I glared. Jack sniggered. “Yes, Ben. Implying that we’re hobbits.”

He shook his head in disapproval, checked his watch. “The guard changes at midnight.”

“How appropriate,” Sasha murmured.

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