It Started With Thieving | Sherlock Holmes

10 - The Hunt

A/N:
Oh my God, an up-date 💀 (fr I had no idea it had been so long since an update, I sincerely apologise!)

I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

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As Sherlock and Elizabeth calmly helped the well-dressed man back to the bench at the start of the path, they gently helped him to sit down on the grim, mossy wood, watching as he brought a comforting hand to his chest and tried to inhale in a more controlled manner. While Sherlock stepped back, Elizabeth crouched before 'Victor', eyes bright and soothing as she breathed alongside him. Valentin's other hand went to take off his sunglasses.

"Wait, Victor, the light - "

"Dark...enough..." The words left him in a struggle between his breaths as he looked at her.

Elizabeth nodded and took the glasses from him, worried he would clench them too tight, "Breathe with me, Victor, you're okay."

Seeing his eyes properly, Elizabeth found she was drawn to Victor further. They were dark, mysterious, fearful and secretive. His eyes said so much that it was hard to work out exactly what he was trying to say in that moment. But something wasn't right, that much she knew.

The detective, on the other hand, couldn't help but think of John as he looked at her, who likely would have done this exact thing had Elizabeth not been here - had *he* been here, in fact. His gaze softened, not just at the sight of the kind woman who still held his heart but also out of a yearning to see his good friend again. One day, he thought, one day, he and Elizabeth would get back to John, and everything would return to the way it was before.

"Okay, you're okay, breathe, Victor."

At hearing that name, Sherlock was drawn from his thoughts - he frowned thoughtfully as he analysed the man. No, that man wasn't a Victor, he had seen that man before - recently too - think, where had he seen him before? Why was his brain being this slow now?

"I - "

"Sh, it's okay, just breathe, don't speak." Elizabeth shook her head gently, and soothingly added, "Breathe with me, Victor."

Victor? Was he really a Victor? No, Sherlock thought, he knew his intuition was right, but if not Victor, then who? Vincent? Vaughan? Vernon? No, that last one was too British...Vlad? Vladimir...Vla...Val...Valentin!

"Your name," Sherlock interrupted the breathy ambiance.

Elizabeth sternly looked over her shoulder at the detective, "Tony..."

"Your name isn't Victor, it's Valentin, isn't it?"

As his breathing slowed, he frowned at the detective, "Wh - what?"

"You're Valentin Visar Vlădescu. The richest man in Romania."

Valentin just stared at him for a second. Was he really that recognisable? Even to foreigners?

Elizabeth shook her head, tired of the tension even though she understood Sherlock would likely be right, "Tony, now isn't the time to accuse people you don't know of lying."