Cecilia Holmes, Daughter of Minerva (Sherlock/Percy Jackson crossover)

Chapter 51

I pulled on my navy blue hoodie, zipping it up halfway as we approached what Claude called the Big House. Thankfully, no one had stopped us again on the way there, even though we had gotten plenty of stares. As we made our way through the camp, Claude told me that I had to come meet the staff so I could start my initiation. He told me random pieces of information about the Camp as we went, and I paid special attention to the information about the staff members.
    “So Dionysus actually runs the camp?” I asked, curiously as we walked up the path. I saw a man in a wheelchair sitting across from a man in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian print button-up shirt, sipping a diet Coke. They were playing chess.
    “Yes, and whatever you do, be respectful,” Claude said, quietly, glancing over his shoulder at me.
    “Where would I ever find the nerve to be disrespectful to a god?” I replied, a sarcastic smile briefly flitting across my lips. Claude rolled his eyes and faced forward again.
    “Ah, Claude,” the man in the wheelchair said as we walked up to the porch. Claude walked up the creaky wooden stairs, but I stayed at the bottom, staring at the two men. Dionysus, or Mr. D as the campers called him, glanced at Claude and then at me. As his dark eyes studied me for half a second, I held my breath. But then he looked back at the game he was playing against Chiron— who was apparently a centaur in disguise?
    I studied the man in the wheelchair. He had longer, dark brown hair, a brown beard, and sharp dark brown eyes.
    I tried not to think about the physics involved with hiding his horse-half in the wheelchair. It hurt my head, just like the TARDIS had at the beginning. But I had gotten used to that eventually, and I would get used to this, too.
    “Who is this?” Chiron said. And then he gestured for me to come closer.
    Playing the nervous newbie was easy.
    I took a deep breath and then slowly walked up the stairs, my gaze flitting from the ground to him ever so often.
    “This is my friend Sherlock,” Claude said in a low voice. “She goes to my school in Oregon. A couple weeks ago she was attacked by empousai. Her father hasn’t seen her mother since soon after she was born, so I think she—“
    “Strange that a satyr didn’t find her first,” Chiron interrupted. He looked at me carefully, and I tried not to feel nervous.
    “She’s probably the daughter of a lesser-known god,” Claude tried, running his fingers up and down the straps of his backpack.
    “Do you know why you’re here, then?” Chiron asked me, ignoring Claude’s eager statement.
    “Yes, Claude explained it to me,” I shrugged my backpack further onto my shoulders and looked away from him.
    “So you know, then, that the gods are real, as is everything else in Greek mythology?”
    And Roman.
    “Yes, sir. I’ve seen too much to doubt it.”
    “Good,” he said, still eying me. But then suddenly he turned his head and yelled, “Harle, Will! Come out here for a moment!”
    Claude jumped at his shout and my heart leapt, but I kept composed.
    The sound of footsteps resounded from inside the house, and then the door was thrown open.
    Two men came jogging out.
    And I had never seen such a contrasting duo.
    The one who came out first had curly, light blond hair; the other had shaggy black hair. The first had a perfect surfer’s tan and wore white shorts, an orange t-shirt that said “Camp Half-Blood” on it, and flipflops; the second had pale, olive skin and wore black skinny jeans and a t-shirt with a skull on it. I stared at the darker one. He glared at Chiron with dark eyes that had big circles beneath them. And then he turned his gaze on me. I quickly averted my gaze, looking at the other boy, who seemed much nicer.
    “What’s up, Chiron?” the blond boy said enthusiastically. And then he noticed me. He smiled a perfect smile, his blue eyes shining.
    “Who’s this?” he asked, cheerfully, crossing his arms.    “This is Sherlock, a new camper who just arrived,” Chiron replied with a small smile. “Sherlock, this is—“
    “Will. Will Solace, son of Apollo,” he interrupted, stepping toward me and holding out his hand. I took it and shook, managing a small, closed-mouth smile.
    “Sherlock. Sherlock…” I thought up a last name without skipping a beat, “… Isle. Sherlock Isle. Nice to meet you.”
    “Will is the nurse here at the camp,” Chiron commented.
    “Yup, so if you ever break a bone or start to bleed or need any medical attention whatsoever, call on me, ‘kay?” he said, releasing my hand.
    “Sure. Thanks,” I said, looking over at the other boy. I walked over and held out my hand.
    “Hi. Sherlock Isle,” I said to him. He glared at my hand and then slowly raised his eyes to meet my gaze.
    I lowered my hand and took a step back.
    “You must be Harle…”
    “No, this is Will’s friend, Nico Di Angelo,” Chiron said, turning back to his game. “He is a camper here at Camp Half-Blood.”
     My eyes grew wide and I had to stifle a gasp.
    THE Nico Di Angelo?!
    I stared at the legendary son of Hades that stood before me. He met my gaze with a fierce stare of his own before turning his eyes on Will.
    “Why did you call us, Chiron?” Will asked.
    “I wanted to introduce you to Miss Isles,” Chiron replied, smoothly. “And I also wanted Harle to give the initiation. Where is she?”
    “She was right behind us,” Will said, looking back toward the door.
    “Harle!” Chiron shouted again.
    “Coooooooomiiiiiiiing!”
    A girl ran through the doorway, panting slightly.
    She had shoulder length, dark auburn hair, glasses, maroon skinny jeans and a lime-green tanktop.
    “Yeeeeees?” she said with a smile, leaning on the doorframe.
    “We have a new camper. I want you to take her to the Hermes cabin, first off, and then show her around the Camp. Do your best to answer any questions she has, all right?”
    “Yes, sir!” Harle exclaimed, saluting him. And then she turned to me.
    “Hi!” she greeted, “I’m Harle.”
    “Sherlock,” I said with a nod.
    “Cool name. Like the British detective, right?” she exclaimed.
    I managed a weak smile.
    “Yeah.”
    “All right, well, let’s get going! I’ll— hey, Claude!— show you to where you’ll be staying until you’re claimed,” Harle said, walking past me and Claude and skipping down the steps. I glanced back at Chiron and the other two staff members before walking down after her.
    Harle glanced back over her shoulder and smiled at us.
    “So… yeah, I’m Harle, daughter of Tyche,” Harle said, slowing down so we could catch up to her. “I’m part of the welcome committee here at the Camp. So, seriously, if you ever have any questions or you need to talk or anything at all, you can come to me, okay?”
    “Okay,” I said, dully, looking around at the vibrantly chaotic Camp.
    “I’m assuming you know by now that the gods are real?”
    “Yeah,” I said, shutting her down quickly. “I know everything. I’ve had my ear talked off by Claude.”
    I looked at him and he narrowed his eyes slightly, but I didn’t want to have to listen to long monologues about things I already knew about, so it was a good excuse.
    “Cool. It’s your first time at Camp Half-Blood, though?” she asked, glancing me over as she asked. I nodded.
    “How did you find out you were a demigod? Did a satyr ever find you?”
    What’s up with Greeks and satyrs?
    “I got attacked by an empousa. She knew I was a demigod before I did, obviously,” I said with a roll of my eyes, though secretly I was surprised at how easy it was to lie. Probably because I had been attacked by an empousa at Claude’s school before, so it wasn’t hard to relive.