#visit albania

[hungry-little-owl]

26 April: dinner at The Room, in Tirana, Albania

the poll on my travel blog post about Tirana has spoken: surprising source of comfort food! most of the food in Albania is Italian cuisine, which is good but I was happy to see a noodle-less dish too! Honestly, mashed potatoes, grilled chicken (with seasoning), and asparagus is one of my favorite combos for dinner.

the mash was creamy and delicious, perfect texture imho. chicken was perfectly grilled and expertly seasoned - it didn't taste like ohemgee spices, but it certainly had flavour. the asparagus was soft and tender, though i did wish for more than two sticks of it. the bread roll??? warm and fluffy. I am so glad that European gluten doesn't bother my tummy because I have been lOving eating bread outside of the states.

and tomatoes get their own little paragraph. I think Mediterranean tomatoes taste different than American tomatoes. idk what it is about it, but the tomatoes I've had in Spain, Italy, and now Albania I just couldn't get enough of. I'm pretty indifferent about American tomatoes, and British ones are hit or miss for me. if you aren't a huge fan of tomatoes but visit a country in the Mediterranean region and order a dish that comes with them, give them a try.

9/10, def recommend if you're in Tirana. whole dinner pairs well with an orange fanta btw.

[freckled-lulebore]

👐🏼

[johbeil]

City center

Skanderbeg square, Tirana, Albania. Olympus XA on Lomochrome Purple film.

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Neighborhood solidarity is letting each other know when the coast is clear so you can both smoke weed

[lionheartlr]

Exploring the Enigmatic Albania: A Comprehensive Travel Guide

Exploring the Enigmatic Albania: A Comprehensive Travel Guide Welcome to Albania, a hidden gem nestled in the heart of the Balkans, where history, culture, and stunning landscapes converge to create an unforgettable travel experience. From ancient ruins to pristine beaches, Albania offers something for every traveler. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll delve into the rich historical background,…

[travelew]

[stochastique-blog]

hmm...

Elbasan, Albania.

[meganwhalenturner]

This poor girl's death is all over the news because she was one of the first to die. Everyone knew it would happen and they were waiting to write this story. Nevaeh Crain was one of the first, but there will be more, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand and they won't be people with a story in the paper, they'll be a statistic, a maternal death rate that is horrifying, but that to many will just seem "normal." Sad, but no one's fault. Sad but what can you do? Sad, but that's just the way it is and they'll never understand that no, that's not the way it is in a civilized country. Uruguay has a lower maternal death rate. Oman has a lower maternal death rate. In the Seychelles, in Albania, they have a lower maternal death rate.

Please, don't let Nevaeh Crain's death be the new normal.

Vote democrat.

[multidimensionalguidance]

Where does your spouse come from? Part 2

This is the continuation of Part 1 where I've mentioned where the 7th house lord can move and how this can give us insights of the country where they might come from (if they are foreigners), and a lot of other details in regards to our romantic partnerships. I've already covered from Aries/1H to Virgo/6H, and will continue with the rest.

Remember to take a look at where your 7th house lord is moving. Where is the planet that rules that sign sitting, and what are other planetary aspects is it receiving as well. Is it in a friendly sign or not? Is the house beneficial or not?

Note: I use sidereal calculations, so for the most accurate results on this it would be preferred for calculations to be adjusted.

First of all, it is always good to start with intuitively choosing the countries you’ve always been curious or lured towards. Cultures you’d like to get to understand and explore! Click this link to look at the dates of independence or incorporation dates of those countries to see if it matches the lord of your 7th house.

Second, please pay EXTRA attention to this descriptions the most if your 7th house lord is in the 9th house or 12th house. Look for the planet or sign that resides there in order to get an even more accurate prediction.

Lastly, even if your 7th house lord falls in any other house, these descriptions will still aid you towards understanding your protentional romantic, business, or any other type of close relationships.

Libra/7H: Turkey, Poland, Amsterdam, Berlin, Panama, Antigua and Barbuda, and Austria all have Sun in Libra. These are some of the countries your spouse might be from or related to through family. They will be very social or at the very least aware of how social dynamics function. They care about their appearance and will feel uncomfortable not presenting themselves within their preferred aesthetics. They will enjoy art or be quite creative themselves, so do expect dates that revolve this sort of activities. Communicating with others in a non-conflictive way is a very big thing, and perhaps it is the way their environment encouraged them to be as well. They will be smooth talkers, and express themselves in a politically correct manner. You might meet them in a place that feels harmonious, in the sense of following a certain aesthetic. Other people might introduce them to you or they might be a small push required from others (or even you) to make them feel comfortable enough with approaching you full force. They could come from places that are pleasing visually, and where people enjoy fine arts. There's a sort of "poshness" to their surroundings that promotes elegance in general, so that will influence them as well. They will enjoy windy weathers and food that looks and taste good (emphasis on the first than the latter). They will have a very good appearance or at the very least maintain a "clean" look. Most of their features will be somewhat softer, and it will be noticeable in their gaze. They use their eyes to attract others, knowingly or not. They'll probably identify the wifey qualities within you quite fast, and will make it known the way they feel. If this house or planet is not heavily afflicted, then finding a business or marriage partner should not be too difficult to achieve at all.

Scorpio/8H: Lebanon, Thailand, Finland, Iceland, Albania, United Arab Emirates, Monaco, Kenya, and Barbados, could be one of the countries that your spouse might be from or enjoy a lot. They will have a secretive/reserved nature which makes them quite alluring. They will come from an environment that encouraged a lot of chaotic changes, and forced them to develop defensive mechanisms that relay on control tactics. Their weather could be as well quite changing in nature or experience many chaotic natural events. You will meet them in private places or within a small gathering. As simple as a small group of friends visiting a beach or river. It could also be after one or both of you just experienced really difficult situations. After some sort of transformation occurred where one or both had to mentally set themselves to heal/grow. You might engage in secret or very close conversations that will allow feelings to develop quickly and intensely. They might enjoy risky situations that drive adrenaline through the roof. Spicy food or heavily relied on meat/protein could be a big part of their diet. You and your partner are prone to being obsessive and desire to control each others feelings to a certain degree, just for the sake of creating a false sense of comfort. This connections will be karmic by nature and sometimes necessary for our growth, so be aware of the difficulties and learn when to let go for your own sake. They might have sharp features, a very intense gaze, and an aura that is felt by others. They are also more prone to having dark hair or eyes. There will also be material growth or a focus towards each others resources, but be mindful to not allow others to use you entirely for financial gains nor attempt to do the same yourself. All of your connections will naturally have darker and taboo themes sitting on the surface to be explored. You will enjoy or have some fixation for each others body, specifically the sexual zones. Chemistry is not the same as connection, so be mindful of that since not everyone is a fit for serious relationships simply because the sexual aspects are very positive.

Sagittarius/9H: UK, Haiti, Brunei, Bulgaria, Qatar, Cuba, Sudan, Slovenia, and Kazakhstan are some of the countries where they might be from or strongly feel connected to for some way. They are adventurous, restless, optimistic, funny, well cultured, and spiritual in some way. They might come from environments that are very traditionally tied to religion or spiritual institutions, temples, etc. They might be used to being perceived or surrounded by foreigners as well, which allows them to adapt easily to others and be familiar with different languages. You'll meet in an airport, temples, university or education areas, ceremonies (like a wedding), legal departments, at a bank, etc. They'll enjoy going to different places, be it doing sports, trying new cuisines, and overall just staying busy. You both will most likely travel together, or there might be some distance between the two of you at some point. This is a connection that will broaden your horizons and allow you both to evolve spiritually. Their appearance will be different from your native country, so they will definitely be a foreigner with looks that make them stand out. Expect them to be tall, possibly have green eyes and/or to be fit. They might love horses or learned how to ride horses when they were young. You might become more spiritual or devoted to a religion after meeting them or after marriage. Your partner/spouse will definitely be traditional, even if they have an open mind and avoid placing judgement on situations they are unfamiliar with. They will pay extra attention to your thighs and butt, so don't be surprise if they stare too hard or mention it directly. You are both going to push each other to achieve a higher awareness or consciousness. The laughs and jokes will also be plenty as well, and that will help a lot when dealing with any difficulties in the relationship, but just make sure to not sweep things under the rug.

Capricorn/10H: Buenos Aires, Singapore, Romania, New Zealand, Grenada, and Nauru might be some of the countries your partner/spouse might be from or have a connection with. They are responsible, career oriented, structured, service oriented, grounded, and the type to show their love by actions rather than words. They might come from environments that were rough or challenging to be around, in the sense that the weather or people could be harsh to deal with. People might think they're older than his actual age, and not necessarily due to appearance but the way they think, speak, move, and behave. They simply have a very mature personality and this is mainly because they had to grow up fast and their parents were probably very demanding or not as present as they should have. Expect them to be around people that have authority or coworkers. You might meet them in governmental institutions or spaces, abandoned places, a city hall, at work, at the chiropractors, and overall in any public space. They probably prefer to eat the same type of food with little variety, but they like high quality places that feel and look luxurious. Your connection will be karmic by nature and initially might feel too serious or difficult. Now, it does promise longevity and growth towards your career, profession, and status. Your partner/spouse will enjoy his work a lot and socializing with people as well, but despite the fame or notoriety they might have they'll enjoy being alone with you the most. They will be the type to externally seem very outgoing, yet actually prefer being introverted or away from the public, an this happens due to the excessive time that they invest in working with others. In terms of appearance, they might be medium in heigh, have a sharp gaze, strong legs, and brown/dark colored eyes. There's a good chance they'll be older than you, if not in age, then definitely in their way of thinking or seeing life. You might end up meeting their parents soon in the relationship as well. The both of you will have to put some necessary efforts to make the relationship work, as there will be challenges in the way. The relationship will be very public or known by others even if you both try to be lowkey about it, so be careful to not allow others to get in the way.

Aquarius/11H: Lithuania, Saint Lucia, Ghana, Dominican Republic, Wales, Estonia and Kuwait are some of the countries they might be from or associated to in some way. They'll be independent, creative, innovative, cunning, friendly yet introverted, and have many niche interest. Their environment might have random and unexpected weather changes, which fits their own nature as well. It's likely their surroundings taught them to be flexible, open minded, and comfortable with being themselves. They will be very experimental with their food, and might even have a bit of an odd yet interesting taste. Their preference in music will be *chef's kiss* so you'll be adding their playlist to your favorites and sharing music often. You might meet them through your friends, the internet, social media, networking circle, NGO's, charities, inside an airplane, at a tech facility, or at any big events. They'll be popular and probably well known by others, be it because of their impressive skills or simply for who they are. They are the type to be very close to their friends and alliances because thanks to them they are able to progress through life. You will learn the value of being part of a community and planning long term towards your future investments. You will both pursue your dreams and long term goals together. They might be the type to give you many gifts in all shapes and form. Surprising you and putting a smile on your face with their quirks will always be a goal for them. In terms of appearance they might look different, but not in a bad way, rather that there is something about them that makes them look like they do not belong to this world. One of the main themes of your relationships will be about independence and freedom. Your partner/spouse does not like to feel restricted or boxed in, so if you're the clingy type then the more negative aspects might show up with them pulling away or putting some distance. Communication is essential in all relationships, but with your partner it will be even more so. They will prefer you to be straight forward and blunt, even if it might seem rude, but do no worry because they are experts at listening, understanding, and finding a solution.

Pisces/12H: Hungary, Ireland, Iran, Greece, Denmark, and Pakistan are some of the countries that they might be related or connected to in some way. They'll be dreamy, artistic, inspirational, bubbly, and very physic. Their environment might have been uprooted in spiritual or religious beliefs, similarly to Sagittarius/9H, but the difference is that they are more likely to follow those traditions to such depths that it might lead them to "lose" themselves or develop escapist intentions behind it. They might have visited temples or churches growing up, so they are usually very accepting of others. In terms of the physical surroundings they might have grown around big sources of water (lakes, beaches, ponds, etc) or visited them often. If they are not allergic to any sea food, then they will eat it a lot. They enjoy their privacy and despite their ability to camouflage in different groups they will only confide the most in themselves or you. You might meet them a church, temple, a club, close to large bodies of water, foreign lands, hospital, asylum, or even places where they legally sell recreational dr*gs. There will be a sense of mystery or unknown in the relationship, where you or your partner feel as if you're unsure where the connection is leading which might be confusing. They might have a history of using substances or doing things that are not seen well by the law. You will feel like despite their past and background it is easy for you to look past it all and be very understanding with them. There's a need for being careful of not allowing the relationship to become a vicious cycle where you encourage each others bad habits, insecurities, etc. In terms of appearance, they will have eyes that almost look half asleep in some way and that makes them seem seductive in a way. They might be tall or medium height, fit or slender, have curly hair, and use glasses. You will both feel like the connection is fated or destined in some way. There might also be a distance between the two of you at some point, be it because you both live in different places, a loss in the relationship, meaning going separate ways to eventually get back together, or to stay separated. Either way, if there is no harsh affliction or malefices then despite everything you will both become very spiritual and psychic together. You will feel like communicating telepathically is very much real, and it will be common for you both to dream often of each other. This is the type of connection that you don't ever forget about and that teaches you a lot about the parts of yourself that you might not see. The connection will show you both the good, bad, and wonderful that exists within each other.

[anxhelstudies]

110924

it’s been a while but i went in albania for 2,5 weeks, went to 2 weddings, go out with my friends since one of them was going back to ireland and i am going to london in 2 days.

so the rankings for the uni i applied got released (idk if it’s the correct therm for this but idc) and surprise!! i didn’t get in… so anyway i’m going to london as a consolation prize! i’m really excited and grateful for this opportunity because it’s all thanks to my aunt who invited me (and my mother who is supporting me since she doesn’t want me to give her back the money she gave me in advance for milan). i hope i will take the most from this opportunity, i’m going to the london design festival and have some days to visit the tourist spots while sending cv and portfolio hoping to do some networking and have some job interview (crossing my fingers). all of this because i applied for the passport in time!! and it’s my first time having a strong passport, i could go to a lot of countries and not worrying for a visa meanwhile in high school i was known in my class and an other class to be the girl who always has problems in international school trips because of my nationality.

anyway i decided to do the #100daysofproductivity challenge starting today, hoping i can finish it. so today i did some laundry and took my first chinese lesson with a tutor! i was a little anxious since i always studied alone but i went well. the teacher is very nice and i really liked her and the price per hour is good so i think i will be able to have 1h lesson a week. since i told her i already self studied something this first lesson was more of a recap this way she could understand my level and adjust the next lessons accordingly. we decided together the book that we were going to use and after that we started with reading pinying, i was really nervous because i never read in in chinese with someone listening but in the end my reading/pronunciation skills were actually good for someone who self studied and i didn’t make the errors some of her students at hsk4 level makes so she was happy and told me to practice more the fourth tone and the pronunciation of p and b because i make some mistakes there but it’s not a big deal since this are the same problem for italian so i just have to practice more. other than that she made me read some words and ask some question about words and radicals to see my situation. At the end she asked me to take a look at the textbook see what i know and don’t know and the text her to let her know what i wanted for next lesson: continue with the review or start something new. Next lesson will probably be a review for the things that i had difficulties studying alone and the few things in the firsts chapters i didn’t do. overall i really liked studying with a tutor, since it’s one on one the focus is all on me and it’s really good to have someone to tell u what u need to practice more. i can totally see the benefits of this and for me its money spent wisely and will be a really good investment for my future.

anyway if u have some good spot to visit or try in london leave it in the comments (especially for asian skincare and makeup and stationary!)

[octuscle]

I like to be a fighter from Albania, Serbia or another country like these: good looking, strong and proud and producing at least 12 sons as little fighters too. Dream or reality? you choose, chronivac

Strange wish for a 45-year-old administrative employee at Swiss Post. This is not exactly the place for fighters…

When you finish work, your body feels exhausted. Not like after a physically strenuous day… More like after hard work. Or after a visit to the gym. Not that you've ever been to a gym… Or ever worked hard physically… It's a strange feeling. And it doesn't go away when you enjoy the end of the day with a beer in front of the TV as usual. Actually, you should have been watching a thriller right now. But you're watching the Serbian soccer league. One hand on the beer bottle. One always on your cock and your balls…

Something is different the next morning… You have a lot more beard than usual. Looks good. Why do you always go to the office clean-shaven? You trim the beard a little. Feels very normal. Where's your deodorant? Never mind, I'll have to go without it today… You grab your briefcase, pack your breakfast sandwich and set off for work on your bike. You sit down at your desk. You start working on files. You have trouble sitting still. Shit, you need to move! During your lunch break, you go to the Balkan grill. And you don't realize that you're talking in Serbian to the other men who are taking their break standing up. After your lunch break, you make your rounds through the building. Your job at the in-house post office is not particularly demanding. But you can't imagine working at a desk. You need to get moving. That's why you can't wait to go to the gym after work. Get your muscles burning first. And then train your skills as a street fighter in the ring.

It's a long streetcar ride to the council housing estate on the outskirts of the city. It's one of the first warm evenings. A few of your neighbors are sitting with a beer at the playground in front of one of the run-down apartment blocks. You join them. You don't feel like going back to the small apartment you share with your siblings.

You share your room with two of your brothers. They both work on the assembly line and are on the late shift this week. You try not to wake anyone when you get up at 4:30 am. The garbage collection job is hard work, but it pays well. You can save a lot of money so that you can soon afford your own little house in Belgrade. Zurich is a good city to earn money. But not to live here.

You are a man's household. You can see that. Your bathroom is pretty filthy. Well, you don't really hit the toilet bowl yourself when you piss. Apart from that, just a bit of washing up. What's the point of more? You'll start sweating faster than you'd like.

Most of the guys who work with you are from the Balkans. Many from Croatia and Bosnia. Their parents often fled from your parents during the civil war. But you don't give a damn. The Balkans are the Balkans. In a foreign country with the snooty Swiss, that welds you together. You are a close-knit community. A community of real men. Not wimps like the locals. You are brothers. You have more brothers than the six men you share the apartment with. And you all meet up at the gym in the evenings. The only place where you spend a few of your hard-earned Swiss francs. The rest is saved for a better future.

There is no better place than the gym. Hard training, hard fights, hard sex. Yes, sometimes you also have to bang a woman. So as not to get out of practice. And Swiss whores are easy to come by. You're all real guys who look and smell like men. The whores don't find anything like that among their fellow countrymen. But it's even better if one of your compatriots or an inferior Christian from the Balkans loses to you in a boxing match. The loser gets fucked. And you fuck a lot!

[girlactionfigure]

🔘LEGAL SYSTEM DISAGREEMENTS, YET MORE “DEAL” NEWS - Real time from Israel  

ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( VIDEO - US Central Command: the aircraft carrier USS Lincoln is in the area [of the Middle East] )

⭕75 HEZBOLLAH ROCKETS fired at Israeli Civilian towns yesterday in the north, as well as 20-30 or so SUICIDE DRONES.

⭕HEZBOLLAH DRONE STRIKE hit a factory in Nahariya WITHOUT ALARM. No injuries.

▪️APPEAL AGAINST DISMISSAL OF LEGAL “ADVISORS”.. The “Movement for the Quality of Government” NGO appealed to the High Court against the dismissal of ministerial dept legal advisors: "The continuation of the coup d'état, during the war. The govt decision will constitute a serious injury to the independence of the legal advisory system for govt offices, and will result in significant damage to the fundamental principles of the State of Israel."

The legal advisors opinions are considered binding, and appear to often be used in apparent disagreement with ministry policies.

▪️POLICE COMMISSIONER vs. ATTORNEY GENERAL.. Commissioner Danny Levy referred to the letter by Attorney General Beharve-Miarat "if he does not freeze the reassignment of the police senior legal advisor (from his advisor position to a department manager), he will be acting against the law", and replied that "the Israel Police addressed her letter last week and there is nothing to add in the matter. I am busy from morning to night fighting crime and leading the organization." 

After she informed him that his decision was frozen, Levy wrote to Beharev-Miara "I do not recognize a legal obligation to consult with you before making an appointment. Your request means a de facto expropriation of my authority."

.. (Ch. 13) “Legal authorities”, the commissioner’s conduct may lead to his removal.  National Security Minister Ben Gvir: in your dreams.

▪️ECONOMY.. Ministry of Finance: Ahead of budget discussions, the chief economist updated (REDUCED) the growth forecast for the years 2024 and 2025, to levels of 0.4% and 4.3% respectively.

♦️LEBANON - Hezbollah commander of the Eyta al-Sha'ab area surrendered to the Golani fighters.

.. The Lebanese report extensive destruction in the village of Jbaa in Nabatieh district following a series of about 12 attacks on the place last night. Several buildings collapsed.

♦️SYRIA - Syrian sources: Israel blew up a minefield in the area west of the village of al Qahtaniyah in the Qunaitra district in southern Syria. (This would allow rapid maneuvering.)

♦️GAZA - Air Force attacked terrorists in the humanitarian area in Khan Yunis.

♦️GAZA IED’s - Ch. 14, we were asked not to say that there was an explosion inside a building (where soldiers were killed). We will not hide it. 12 fighters were killed by IEDs in Jabaliya. It's time for tough questions (of why going building to building instead of air striking or tank fire.)

🔹HAMAS.. Report: Muhammad Sinwar replaced his brother as the leader of Hamas.

🔹US CENTRAL COMMAND.. General Michael Korilla will arrive tomorrow for a visit to Israel.

🔹US Ambassador to the UN: The US believes that Francesca Albania, the UN's special rapporteur for the “occupied” territories, is not suitable for her position. The UN should not tolerate anti-Semitism from an official appointed to promote human rights.

🔸DEAL NEWS.. proposal of the day: new Qatari proposal: a month of truce in exchange for 11 hostages, mostly females, without ending the war.  As always, Hamas has not agreed while these are publicly floated to pressure Israel.

.. Hezbollah official: "We will not hold talks under fire.. And we have not received an official offer.” (After the visit by the US envoy.)

✡️A word of Torah: Truth does not become more true by virtue of the fact that the entire world agrees with it, nor less so even if the whole world disagrees with it. - The Rambam

[travelew]

[janeofcakes]

One Night in Palermo: Chapter 1

Hi, Everyone! I haven't done this in ages and I hope you'll all jump on board again for another story. It's 18 months after Sherlock jumped from Bart's and he's busily taking down Moriarty's web. He's also pining and worried for John, who thinks he's dead. Sherlock's trying to make his way to the Moran, the web's center, when another assassin comes on the scene. Find out what happens!

----------

One year to the day Sherlock leapt off Bart’s, his best friend watching in horror, found him creeping into a dank warehouse in the middle of Belgrade, Serbia. The dead detective had been all over the country in the last year, as well as those sharing its borders. Hungary and Romania, Bulgaria, North Macedonia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Montenegro; all extensively traveled in the name of destroying Moriarty’s web of terrorists and murderers. He had just come through Kosovo from an assignment in Albania and tomorrow would take him to yet another location.

James Morairty may have died on the roof of Bart’s one year ago, but his criminal organization remained intact and Sherlock could not rest until Greg Lestrade, John Watson, and the beloved Martha Hudson were safe. Then maybe he could return to his old life of London and 221B and cases and John. Sherlock missed John most of all and had not been dead long before realizing the true extent of his feelings for his flatmate. Every moment not chasing down Moriarty’s criminals was spent wondering about John and what he was doing, or how he was doing. Worse yet, he dreamt of his flatmate as well, and they were becoming increasingly explicit in nature.

Sherlock gave a slight shake of his head to clear it. This was certainly not the time to go down that route of thinking. Mycroft’s intelligence indicated ten men in this building, making Sherlock’s full attention to the matter at hand imperative. The year’s assignments marked the longest period of time the detective had ever worked with his brother and there was at least another year to go before it would end. Remarkably, it had not been utterly intolerable as Sherlock had expected. Mycroft understood how Sherlock’s mind worked and gave him only the relevant information for each assignment. They met over virtual calls on a secured platform after each assignment was finished to discuss the next. Sherlock had needed serious medical attention on only two occasions and was immediately taken to a secret facility possessing everything required to address his injuries. The same short, blonde doctor cared for him each time, no doubt hand-selected by Mycroft to ensure Sherlock’s cooperation. The elder Holmes even made an appearance in both situations to make sure his baby brother was all right. He did not make himself tiresome either, much to Sherlock’s surprise, despite spending quite a lot of time by the detective’s side the second time around.

Sherlock had been caught during his last visit to Serbia. His captors quickly determined the usefulness of keeping him alive, but had no compunction with torturing him for the six weeks before his rescue. Mycroft even deigned to perform the extraction himself, he and his team infiltrating the base and killing every man in the bunker before carrying Sherlock out. It was at least a week before the detective could hold his eyes open for more than a few blurry moments at a time. When his senses and powers of deduction had returned, Sherlock was certain Mycroft had not left his side once. Oddly, the two brothers had grown closer as they worked together, but neither spoke of nor acknowledged it. 

Having found no one in the warehouse thus far, Sherlock proceeded down a long hallway that led to a large meeting room. Intelligence supplied by Mycroft’s spies had shown it was where the ten men spent most of their time. A door at the left side of the room opened into an office used by a man named Markovič, the indisputable leader of this terrorist cell. He had worked closely with Moriarty on more than one occasion and murdered countless people around the world.

Two other doors entered the meeting room; one that opened to a hallway of small rooms wherein the men slept and the one Sherlock was steadily approaching. The ideal situation for Sherlock was finding all ten men in the meeting room. Slightly less ideal, was Markovič in his office and the other men in the meeting room. Some of them having a kip in their individual rooms was the least ideal, but this time of night typically saw them all together planning the events of the following day. Regardless, Sherlock was prepared for any eventuality, or so he thought.

Sherlock slowed his step as he approached the room’s half-open door, rendering his footfalls completely silent. While each of the ten men was a very skilled killer, all were also dim-witted. Even Markovič, though intelligent, was no more than slightly above average. Sherlock knew his appearance would be surprising, but once the first few shots were fired, he would have to act quickly to avoid retaliation. A scant few feet from the door, Sherlock angled his body for the best view of its occupants and what he saw boggled his mind.

Eight men lay sprawled on the floor, face down on the table, or slumped back in chairs. All of them were covered with blood still oozing from pin-point bullet holes in chests, throats, or heads. None of these men had a chance to do more than consider reaching for their own weapons before they dropped. Sherlock analyzed the scene and deduced the events as they had happened while he moved through the room to Markovič’s office.

The door was also ajar. Sherlock pushed it open slowly, already knowing what he would find. Markovič was sat at his desk, leaning back unnaturally in the chair. His eyes were wide open and unseeing as they stared blankly at the ceiling. A hole was perfectly placed in his forehead, creating an isosceles triangle with his eyes. Blood stained his face where it ran down his nose and cheeks, over his throat to soak his shirt. Significant spatter and gray matter decorated the wall behind him in a sickly red glow.

Without delay, Sherlock went to the third door in the meeting room to check bedrooms for the final missing man. Finding him was not difficult. The first door in the hall was the only one open, so Sherlock let himself in cautiously. He found the man on the floor in a pool of blood, bedsheets twisted around one leg, and a pistol held loosely in one hand. He had obviously been only halfway out of bed when the door was kicked open and fired one shot quickly, the evidence of which marred the door frame next to Sherlock’s left shoulder. The intruder had not done more than twitch his head slightly to the side before expertly placing a bullet in the man’s forehead and watching him drop.

*****

Hours later, Sherlock sat at a desk in a safe house across the border in Hungary. He had changed into jeans and a plain t-shirt in dark green. His eyes were fixed on the screen of a laptop as he waited for his brother to accept the call. When the connection was made, it was Anthea’s face that appeared instead of Mycroft’s.

“Sherlock,” she greeted him. She looked tired. Perhaps the last year had weighed heavily on her shoulders as well. “He wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”

“Nor was I,” Sherlock replied dryly. “The assignment did not go as anticipated.”

“But you’re alright? It’s done?” Anthea asked with a touch of concern in her voice. The two of them had become far better acquainted over the course of Sherlock’s assignments and now had a certain rapport.

“Unconditionally,” Sherlock answered and watched as the subtle creases at the corners of her eyes smoothed away, only for them to return when he asked, “how is John?”

Anthea opened her mouth to reply, but Mycroft entered the room before she said a word. He moved to the screen swiftly and sat, studying Sherlock’s face. He was wearing his usual three-piece suit minus the jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up. A haggard expression dominated his features, but a sense of overall relief washed over them at seeing Sherlock in one piece. Mycroft let the indifference that hid whatever modicum of emotion he had slide into place and sat ramrod straight, his typical persona fully recovered.

“You were able to complete the mission,” Mycroft said with only the hint of a question in his tone.

“In a matter of speaking, yes,” Sherlock replied vaguely.

Mycroft cocked an elegant brow and leaned in.

“What do you mean?” He asked with keen interest.

“I found the bodies of all ten men upon entering the warehouse,” Sherlock said simply.

“An opposing faction?” Mycroft speculated, sounding unconvinced.

“No,” Sherlock said flatly, “it was precise and clean. None of the torture and delay seen between these enemies. A single man walked in quietly, just as I did, and murdered them all with one shot each.

“He killed all eight men as he moved through the room, three before they could rise from the table. Markovič was in his office and posed no challenge to dispatch. The last was in a bedroom.”

Mycroft had narrowed his eyes while Sherlock spoke, considering each word carefully. When the detective finished, his brother raised his gaze to regard him in silent contemplation.

“The work of an assassin where there should only be one,” Mycroft muttered.

“Indeed,” Sherlock agreed, “and it had occurred within the hour.”

Mycroft caught Sherlock’s eye and considered him carefully. 

“Sherlock,” his tone took on a condescending characteristic that always made the younger roll his eyes, “while the situation is unusual, it is not out of the realm of possibility.”

“Oh, please,” Sherlock began, but Mycroft cut him off quickly.

“You have a mission that cannot be delayed by a… mystery, no matter how intriguing,” Mycroft said snidely. “Need I remind you of its particular importance to you, brother mine?”

Sherlock closed his mouth with a snap and pressed his lips into a thin line. Closer though they may be, Sherlock hated his brother for consistently adopting this air of superiority at a perceived weakness.

“Fine,” Sherlock spat, “but you will find out who it was. If I’m known to this assassin, I want to know his every movement. I will not tolerate interference.”

“Of course, Sherlock,” Mycroft assured him smugly. “I will use every resource at my disposal.”

****

As confident as Mycroft had been, his channels found out nothing about the assassin in the coming weeks. No one was able to determine where the man came from or where he got his information. One thing became abundantly clear, however. He also seemed to be dismantling Moriarty’s criminal organization one piece at a time. 

Sherlock completed two assignments over three weeks before encountering the assassin again. The circumstances were much the same as the first time. The target called Romania home and spent most of his time terrorizing every community within a fifty mile radius. He had assisted Moriarty several times over the last decade and had often welcomed the man into his home. If James Moriarty ever had anything even vaguely approaching a friend in his adult life, it would be this man.

Sherlock watched silently from the shadows as his target entered a small room and closed the door, leaving his guard outside in the dimly lit hall. They were inside a massage parlor not far from the man’s home. He spent four nights a week in this place, making rather dubious visits to a certain masseuse. Fortunately for Sherlock, the man’s guard made similar visits to the owner of the shop. 

A quiet whistle echoed through the hall twenty minutes after Sherlock’s target entered the masseuse’s room. He watched as the guard looked right, then left, and then disappeared down the hall. Sherlock waited another five minutes to be sure the guard would not return before moving silently toward the door his target had entered. He stood next to it for a moment, his back to the wall, already knowing it was unlocked. He had spent the last seven days watching his target and tracking his movements. Sherlock knew every habit and routine in the man’s life, right down to leaving the door unlocked while he got a massage and a blow job so he could exit quickly if one of his enemies interrupted. 

All Sherlock needed to do was open the door and pull the trigger. He had become quite a good markman over the last year and his gun was equipped with a silencer. He wouldn’t miss and no one would hear a thing. The only thing that made him hesitate was the masseuse. He had not yet decided what to do about her. He could kill her along with the target to prevent anyone being alerted by her screams, which were certain to follow her lover’s untimely demise. He could find some quick way to render her unconscious while she and the target were distracted. He could simply shoot his target and run, risking a successful escape. Sherlock was likely to be tortured if caught, a situation he could not afford. He scowled, the words ‘a bit not good’ echoing through his mind. The only option was knocking out the masseuse and hoping no one noticed him before he did it.

Sherlock looked up and down the hall, just as the guard had, and then moved to face the door. He twisted the knob silently with his left hand and pushed it open. The scene before him was nothing like he expected. Instead of finding the two of them fucking on the massage table, the woman was lying on the floor, unconscious and fully clothed. The target was clearly dead on the table, a bullet hole in his temple. Spatter decorated the wall next to the table and Sherlock could hear the quiet drip of blood as it fell from the headrest to the floor. Curious, he entered the room and squatted cautiously next to the woman. He might have risked touching her to find a pulse, but could see it clearly enough on her neck. The assassin had left her alive.

Sherlock’s gaze darted around the room until it came to rest on a small window near the top of the back wall, the only outside wall in the room. It opened on a hinge, a glass pane that lifted up and it was ajar. Several telltale scuffs left by opening and closing it marred the bottom of the pane. The assassin’s entrance and exit point.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stood. The guard would not return for another ten minutes, but the detective could not afford to be seen by anyone. He walked swiftly out the door and closed it behind him, looking up and down the hall again. Seeing no one, but hearing faint footsteps, he crept into the shadows to wait. Sherlock heard a faraway door open and the footsteps fade away slowly. After a few minutes of silence, he left the building and made his way to the next safe house.

A few hours later and a good two hundred miles away from the massage parlor, Sherlock stood in front of a laptop set in the small bedroom of a cozy flat. He had just relayed an account of the evening’s events to his elder brother and moved on to deductions made about the assassin. Mycroft’s less-than-enthusiastic response was quickly grating on Sherlock’s nerves.

“He has a conscience,” Sherlock argued vehemently. “He could have simply killed the woman, but chose not to.”

His brother’s unimpressed face looked back at him from the laptop screen, thoroughly unconvinced. Sherlock wished, just for a moment, that they were in the same room so he could grab Mycroft’s lapels and shake him.

“Very informative, brother mine, but I fail to see how it will help to find this mysterious assassin,” Mycroft intoned dismissively, glancing at his perfectly manicured nails.

“Finding him, no, but it goes a long way in determining what kind of man he is,” Sherlock sneered. “He is not a heartless killer and that tells us quite a bit.”

“Oh, very well,” Mycroft conceded impatiently. “He may not immediately put a bullet in your head should you meet, but will introduce himself first.”

Sherlock sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.

“I will take care of him,” Mycroft continued sternly and it rankled Sherlock. The tone was the same used to scold him as a child. “You concentrate on your assignments and put an end to this dreadful business so you can return to your precious doctor.”

“How is John?” Sherlock found himself saying. It wasn’t what he meant to say, but Mycroft’s words squeezed his chest so completely that saying anything else would have stopped his heart entirely. He hadn’t even been thinking about John and was blindsided by the rush of sentiment, though he tried to keep that hidden. Mycroft, for his part, looked very disconcerted at the slip. His frustration had gotten the better of him, something that happened far more often than he would like to admit since he and Sherlock began “this dreadful business”.

“Sherlock,” he said with a long suffering sigh.

“Don’t patronize me, Mycroft,” Sherlock snapped. “Just tell me what I want to know.”

“He is…unaltered,” Mycroft replied carefully.

“Unaltered?” Sherlock repeated through clenched teeth.

“I said unwell the last time you asked,” Mycroft straightened his spine and looked down his nose at his brother. “You have not returned to Baker Street. Do you imagine he is any different?”

Sherlock glared at his brother, blood boiling, but said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew his brother wanted to infuriate him. It was a distraction. Mycroft did not want to answer questions about John. It was nothing unusual, but affected Sherlock differently this time. Sherlock suddenly felt exhausted and homesick. Every bit of energy left his body. He was sick for John and if his brother didn’t want to talk about John, Sherlock had no desire to pry. He was not prepared to hear that the doctor had teetered ever closer to a crumbling precipice that might give way at any time. 

“Fuck off, Mycroft,” Sherlock snarled. He shut the laptop forcefully just as his brother closed his eyes in disdain at the vulgar choice of words.

Sherlock paced furiously. He was restless and frustrated and frightened out of his mind. Dozens of storylines played out in his mind as he took each step. The most disturbing thought ended with John’s broken body on the pavement at Bart’s, the same place they had both been just over a year ago, and it made Sherlock’s heart stutter in his chest. He gasped at the pain and stumbled into the loo to be sick. He splashed water on his face once he could stand again without retching and tried to calm himself, but his chest only felt tighter. He buried his head in his hands and prayed to whatever deity would listen that John Watson be alright.

When Sherlock raised his head again, his movements were stilted and his face remote. He cleaned his teeth and changed into pajamas mechanically, getting into bed and turning out the lights. Staring into the darkness, he parted his lips and breathed slowly. If he didn’t let his thoughts out of his mind, didn’t give them life, his brain and heart would surely burst from his body.

“Wait for me, John,” he whispered into the darkness. “Please.” 

****

The next time Sherlock ran into the assassin, the circumstances were quite different. It was three assignments from the last and in Montenegro. The target had not been difficult to finish, but her brother had spotted Sherlock as he made his escape and set off after him. They ran through the compound, ducking this way and that. Every corner the detective turned should have put more distance between the two, but the man behind only grew closer. Sherlock was getting tired and he knew it. On impulse, he ducked into a stairwell and barely tripped as he flew down the steps. He quickly pushed open the heavy wooden door he found there and hurried into an open courtyard full of towering shrubs and fountains. The moon shone brightly, dazzling stars surrounding it, lighting a path of escape. Unfortunately, the man following Sherlock was too close not to make a move for him.

The man dove for the detective and caught him around the waist with his arms. They went down hard, but Sherlock rolled swiftly and struck out at his attacker. They exchanged a few blows before strong hands wrapped around the detective’s throat. Without hesitation, he slid his own arms in-between his attacker’s and wrenched them outward. The other man’s elbows bent, giving Sherlock the leverage to pull his hands away and ram their foreheads together.

At first, only the other man was dazed, so Sherlock shoved him to the side and hopped to his feet. However, the after-effects caught up with him after one or two steps. Suddenly, his head swam and his sense of balance failed completely. Tumbling to his knees, Sherlock tried desperately not to fall any further. He gasped for breath and felt incredibly hot, but resisted the urge to tear the mask from his face. He preferred assignments that did not require a mask, ones where he could maintain a safe distance from targets and their associates. On this particular occasion, his passage through the compound could find him face to face with anyone and he could not be recognized.

Sherlock took a few deep breaths until his vision began to clear. Getting to his feet, he glanced around to check that his attacker had not similarly recovered. He saw nothing as rough hands grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind his back. A cold knife blade touched his throat before he could make any move to free himself. He was trapped. His mind raced, analyzing his options and discarding them; all the while, the blade pressed into his throat, breaking the skin ever so slightly. He nearly jolted at the sound of hoarse laughter in his ear.

“You thought you would get away?” The man holding Sherlock steady chuckled loudly. He pulled the blade more tightly and the detective winced. “You killed my sister, you son of a bitch.”

A gasp filled Sherlock’s lungs, but not for fear of his life as his attacker assumed. It was what he saw in the dark window in one of the tall buildings that lined the courtyard. A sight Sherlock never would have seen, if not for a glint of metal in the moonlight. As soon as he saw that flash of light, his eyes made out the figure of a man with a gun. Standing in the tall window was the assassin, covered in black from head to toe. His face and hair were covered with the usual balaclava. Any other details were lost to the darkness of his clothes and surroundings. His gun was aimed and ready, if the location of the reflection Sherlock had seen was anything to go by.

Sherlock stood very still, not even listening to the rants and threats from the man holding a knife to his throat. One way or another, Sherlock was going to die tonight. If the idiot behind him didn’t do it soon, he would be robbed of the pleasure by the assassin, who would certainly shoot them both. Sherlock could get away from only one of them, not both. He kept his eyes on the assassin as time ticked by and wondered why he hadn’t pulled the trigger twice already. The man couldn’t be weighing his options. It was simple: Aim and fire.

Just as Sherlock thought the word “fire”, a bright flash of light appeared from the assassin’s weapon and Sherlock felt a whoosh of air on his cheek. He expected pain or instant oblivion and got neither. The air around him was suddenly quiet and his mind registered his attacker’s hands going lax. The knife tumbled to the brick floor as the man leaned heavily against the detective’s back. Going down slowly, Sherlock maneuvered the man onto his back and looked at his face. There, between his unseeing eyes, was a perfectly placed bullet hole.

Sherlock’s head shot up to the window to see the assassin, but the man was gone. The pane held nothing but darkness. Without a second thought, the detective gathered himself and stood. It wouldn’t be long before his target’s body was discovered and the compound filled with people who would be happy to kill him. He crept through the courtyard and silently made his way out, encountering no one as he went.

Hours later, ensconced in one of Mycroft’s safe houses, Sherlock booted up the waiting laptop and entered his credentials. His mind was awash with deductions and questions and theories. If nothing else, the evening confirmed the standing deduction that the assassin had a strong moral compass. Quite a bit of additional data had been revealed as well, but Sherlock had not yet sorted through it. He needed to spend some time in his mind palace, arranging the pieces.

The laptop screen caught his eye when his brother’s face came into view. Sherlock had hoped to speak with Anthea first, but had no such luck. He leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of the keyboard, a posture he often adopted when speaking to his brother.

“The assassin was there,” Sherlock stated without preamble. “I beat him to the mark, but he was there.”

“And you know this because?” Mycroft asked with an arched brow.

“I had a knife to my throat and he shot the man holding it,” Sherlock replied without hesitation.

Mycroft’s eyes widened and he leaned in closer to his own laptop.

“He saw you?” He probed with an edge to his voice.

“Not as such. I was wearing a mask. My whole head was covered,” Sherlock answered evenly. “There was nothing to give me away. I was merely a man in distress.”

He could see his brother relax a fraction and then noticed that his eyes were locked on the small bandage Sherlock had fitted to his own neck. The detective furrowed his brow and shook his head dismissively.

“It’s fine,” he told Mycroft in a dull tone. “Superficial. I’ll be able to go without the bandage in the morning.”

“Good,” Mycroft approved, looking more at ease. “That is to say, I am glad you are safe. I must admit, however, I am somewhat troubled by the assassin’s actions. Surely killing you both would have been more to his advantage.”

“Precisely,” Sherlock replied with satisfaction. “It would’ve been easier as well; hitting my attacker with pinpoint accuracy to ensure his demise before he cut my throat requires much more skill than shooting us both. It proves my point.”

“That the assassin has a conscience,” Mycroft supplied in a long-suffering tone. He sighed. “Sherlock, you are a romantic.”

“I most certainly am not!” Sherlock objected, his good mood quashed in the blink of an eye. “I have merely analyzed the data and reached the logical conclusion, as I have in countless other situations.”

He glared at his brother, who returned the look with a smug smile on his face. Sherlock didn’t feel the need to continue the conversation because his pig-headed brother would not relent. He never had before and would not start now. Growing weary of him, Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Tell me about the next assignment,” he demanded, wanting nothing more than to move the call along so he could retreat to his mind palace.

“Yes, of course. Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Mycroft smirked and began debriefing Sherlock on the next target, The detective both listened and imagined how best to have revenge upon his return to London.

****

The following assignment was easily completed in as much as it was finished before Sherlock even arrived. Four days after Montenegro, the detective stealthily entered a caravan dealership that was closed for the day. His target and a small band of men in his employ had taken refuge there, believing no one would find them. After entering the dealership, Sherlock followed music lilting through the air until he reached an extra-long caravan, knowing what he would find before reaching it. While the music played loudly, the absence of all other noise led him to one inevitable conclusion: The assassin had been faster this time.

Five of the six men Sherlock expected lay dead in the caravan’s central room. It occupied more or less the entire vehicle, housing a kitchenette along one side, a narrow couch and table on the other. Two seats and the steering column filled the front of the room, windscreen before them. A small loo cut into the back of the room with closets opposite. In between the two was a narrow hallway that led to a bedroom. Judging by the positions of the men and the angles of the bullets that killed them, the assassin had come from the hallway. He must have climbed in a bedroom window and used the element of surprise.

Sherlock moved cautiously into the bedroom, expecting to find the body of the sixth man, but the room was empty. It was also a mess. A lengthy struggle had clearly taken place in the cramped room and Sherlock could read it all in the broken and overturned furniture. The upper hand had shifted a few times throughout the fight. A stray shot was fired once, twice, and then Sherlock’s eyes came to rest on a piece of bloody glass lying on the floor near a cabinet on the far side of the room. He went to it in three long strides. It was part of a broken mirror that had been affixed to the wall above a waist-height cabinet. One of the two men had grabbed hold of it and stabbed the other, but which was which? Sherlock’s eyes tracked their movements through drips and smears of blood. The injured man eventually broke free and tumbled out the room’s only open window. The other man must have followed because the caravan door would have been left open had he used it.

Gun still at the ready, Sherlock hurried out the door and around to the back of the caravan. He walked silently along the trail of blood and shoe prints. More and more of the sticky, red substance stained the concrete as he went. There wasn’t enough to indicate that the injured man was bleeding out, but was still a troubling amount. Sherlock quickened his pace, anxious to learn which man was injured. He found himself hoping it was not the assassin. It made little sense, but he felt some odd camaraderie with the man. They did seem to have the same goal and were inextricably linked by it.

Sherlock wove his way through the parking lot, around one caravan and another, until he turned a corner and stopped dead. Twenty feet ahead of him, next to a chain link fence, was the body of a man. He was on his back and was obviously dead. Sherlock’s throat went dry and he quickened his pace. He and the assassin had narrowly missed one another for almost three months. They didn’t know the other’s identity and hadn’t even been in the same room together, but had come to expect one another. At least, Sherlock had. He supposed the same might not be true of the assassin, but he liked to think it was, especially after Montenegro. The man had blatantly made the decision not only to save, but also spare Sherlock’s life and the resulting sentiment had softened his heart toward the man. The detective would have considered these feelings a weakness in the past. Now, he saw it in a completely different light. The assassin gave him something familiar to look for, to count on. He couldn’t have John or home, but could at least have something, though it paled in comparison. 

Sherlock was jogging by the time he reached the dead man. He couldn’t see his head properly until he stood right next to him. Once he did, Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. The man before him was not wearing a mask of any kind, nor was there one near the body. Instead, he matched the description of one of the six men Sherlock was sent to kill. The assassin had escaped. 

Relief quickly turned to trepidation, however, as he got a better look at the dead man. He had no stab wounds on his body and looked to have been killed by blunt-force trauma. Sherlock’s eyes darted around the scene, picking out a heavy metal bar and more blood. He followed a trail of it with his eyes for a short distance. It led to, and passed through, an old opening in the chain link fence. Something had weakened the links and broken through long ago. The assassin must have used it to sneak inside or he would not have known to use it as an escape. Sherlock looked as far beyond the fence as he could see, but saw no body and no large pools of blood. It seemed the assassin had escaped, indeed. But how far had he gotten and how badly was he injured?

When he recounted the night’s events later for Mycroft, Sherlock left out the possible extent of the assassin’s injuries and hid his concern for the man. He knew precious little about the man. It made no sense for Sherlock to feel at all connected to him and yet, here he was. He couldn’t stop himself from viewing the connection as a separate but united force against what was left of Moriarty. As such, not knowing the assassin’s fate unsettled Sherlock in a way he couldn’t explain and he hoped their paths would cross again soon.

****

The next assignment was long and tedious. Sherlock spent nearly three weeks just garnering enough trust through various acts of theft and bullying as assigned by the target’s second in command to even be told the target’s location. He then spent another six days planning out how to neutralize successfully. His frustration grew day by day at having to waste an entire month on this one target, lengthening his time away from John. John, who he knew was struggling. His last few conversations with Anthea were vague at best, but informative enough to know that John’s grief had renewed. 

The knowledge slowed Sherlock’s progress with the assignment and he knew it. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He would rather know at least something about John and be distracted than know nothing at all. He dreamt of his friend every night again; comforting him and assuring John he would be home again. He awoke each morning with renewed vigor at having spent the time with John, even if only in his mind. Part of him hoped dreams did the same for John, but they more likely only discouraged him. Sherlock had the advantage of knowing they would meet again, whereas he was dead in John’s world. Sherlock tried to ignore the regret and guilt that ate at him for it.

Motivated by the desire to end his exile and return home to John, Sherlock lost his patience and brought the assignment to an abrupt end. While in the target’s bunker for a debriefing, Sherlock broke into his office and waited. Nearly two hours later, the man and his second opened the door. Sherlock greeted them politely with one bullet each and left as fast as he could. 

His work done, after the agonizingly long month, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to move on to the next assignment. He grimaced as he logged onto the secure server he and Mycroft used to communicate, knowing his brother would berate him for his slowness. Maybe Sherlock would get lucky and Anthea would debrief him. He hoped as he pushed enter and waited, then sighed when Mycroft’s smug face came into view.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock murmured in greeting, saying nothing else. Mycroft more than made up for it.

“Good evening, Sherlock. I am glad to see you have finally finished your assignment. I was beginning to think that your target had persuaded you to stay on,” Mycroft’s snide words pushed Sherlock over the edge. The last thread tethering his frustration over the assignment snapped and he nearly swept the laptop off the table.

“Fuck off, Mycroft!” Sherlock shouted. “You know this is not how I wanted it to go. Just tell me about the next assignment and go back to your cake. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your greatest pleasure.”

“Sherlock, has it really come to this?” Mycroft began with an epic eye roll.

“You started it!” Sherlock interrupted. “Just tell me what I want to know.”

“In due time, brother mine,” Mycroft dismissed Sherlock’s anger out of course, “I have come into some information about your mythical assassin.”

“Oh, yes, perfect. Just what I want to know,” Sherlock snarked back, crossing his arms. “Tell me, Mycroft, how many assignments has he completed while I’ve been stuck on just one?”

“On the contrary,” Mycroft said blandly. “It seems both of you have succeeded in doing nothing. I have no indication he has made any movements during the last forty-two days.”

It was then that Sherlock remembered the trail of blood he had followed so long ago and the strange sense of loneliness he had felt. He had mentioned neither to Mycroft after that assignment.

“He was injured,” Sherlock stated almost without thinking, “in that caravan dealership in Skopje. I followed a trail of blood. He must need time to recover.”

“You failed to mention that in the debriefing,” Mycroft answered, his tone rife with skepticism.

“It was not relevant,” Sherlock replied haughtily.

“Wasn’t it?” Mycroft speculated. “Hm. I wonder.”

“Is there a point to this, Mycroft?” Sherlock snapped, growing tired of the conversation. His brother had a certain knack for analyzing his motives at the most inconvenient times.

“Could it have been a more serious injury, brother mine?” Mycroft continued calmly, unfazed by his baby brother’s outburst. “We have no evidence of him at all in the time between today and that night. Could he have been neutralized?”

“Neutral- he’s not our enemy, Mycroft,” Sherlock countered. “He saved my life.”

“Because doing so suited his purpose,” Mycroft supplied, condescension slipping into his tone. “You are very obviously on a path similar to his own. Why would he want that assistance to end?”

Mycroft was right. It was only logical for the assassin to keep Sherlock alive so the man didn’t have to hit every target himself. The detective had allowed sentiment to color his views of the assassin and if Mycroft didn’t know before, he certainly did now. Damn him.

“No,” Sherlock gave a slight shake of his head after a moment of thought, “there wasn’t enough blood for the injury to have been life-threatening. He will appear again. Just give him time.”

Mycroft pressed his lips into a thin line and took a deep breath through his nose. He had more to say, but obviously debated on whether to do it now or save it. Sherlock knew Mycroft had chosen not to wait the moment his lips parted.

“You will have to deal with him one day,” Mycroft said carefully. “The time will come when you are no longer useful to him.”

Sherlock fought not to roll his eyes. As if he hadn’t considered that particular inevitability already.

“I will handle that when the time comes, not before,” Sherlock said flatly.

****

As if on cue, Sherlock found his next target in a private train compartment with a bullet in his head. They were on a train in Hungary. The man’s two most trusted associates were at his side, also shot dead. The assassin was back. 

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth curled as he stood in the compartment’s doorway. He gave a subtle salute to the scene, closed the door, and casually walked back to his own compartment. As he went, he was filled with a sense of satisfaction and hope. With his own efforts coupled with those of the assassin, his timetable would change for the better and he could return home to John earlier than expected. Mycroft may have been right about an eventual confrontation between Sherlock and the assassin, but until then they would each enjoy the other’s usefulness without question.

****

Another handful of assignments came and went, Sherlock and the assassin working in tandem, but never encountering one another. Shortly after leaving another scene in which the assassin beat him to the mark, Sherlock calculated their joint progress once again and found that their current rate would see him back in London a full four months early. He was delighted.

A particularly successful month for both of them resulted in another revision of the time required. They had shaved off a few more weeks, much to Sherlock’s satisfaction. That was how, at eighteen months post-Fall, Sherlock found himself in Palermo, Sicily with only two targets remaining before he could return home to London and his life.

------

I know it was a long one, but I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading and for all your support! I've missed you all so much! Tune in next week for chapter 2 and remember, keep your stick on the ice. We're all in this together.

Love, Jane

[royalsofhistory]

Empress Elisabeth of Austria and her Corfiot palace through the eyes of the Greek royals.

Greece was destined to offer the Empress Elisabeth the hospitality of its soil. She chose Greece as the country where she would hide herself and her sorrow. At Corfu she bought a site of ground from an old Corfiote Statesman called Braïla, and on it she built the Palace which she called "Achilleion", after her hero Achilles, whose statue was in the middle of the top garden terrace, and represented him at the hour of his death, drawing the arrow out of his heel. When in Corfu, it was understood, she was to be strictly incognito, and her wishes were always respected. One day, suddenly, when we least expected it, she arrived at Athens, having travelled by the ordinary steamer, and called at the Palace accompanied by a lady -in-waiting. She asked the porter whether she could see the King and Queen. On the porter's inquiring who she was, she replied she was "the Empress of Austria." Whereupon we were brought down to verify that statement . It seemed impossible╴but it was the Empress of Austria! Needless to say she obtained her interview, and after half an hour's conversation she took her departure, insisting that her visit should not be returned by my parents. As she was anxious to study Greek culture, she decided to learn modern Greek, and applied herself to the task with great energy and perseverance. She engaged a tutor for Greek conversation. Her first was Dr. Christomanos, an author and poet, who wrote a charming life of the Empress, which was translated into several languages. Her last was Count A. Mercati, who afterwards became Master of King Constantine's household. Accompanied by her tutor, the Empress used to go off on a five or six hours' walk, all over the island; and even for the picturesque ceremony of combing and brushing her hair the tutor had to be present, talking Greek to her all the time. She learnt to speak Greek quite faultlessly. In the arrangement of her house the Empress took great pride, setting up the statues of all her new "Gods"; Sophocles, Euripides, Plato and Aristotle. She also had a statue of Heine, the poet, erected in a shrine. When the Kaiser bought the Achilleion, he at once banished Heine, and raised Achilles from his recumbent position into a standing War Lord, with gilded helmet and shield, so that the first sight of Achilleion should be his glittering helmet. It is a pity that the Empress tried to improve the natural beauty of the spot. Her lack of taste, I may even ungraciously say her eccentricities, were almost an eyesore. There was a grotto of artificial rock and mirrors, destined as a home for monkeys, who luckily never came to inhabit it. Though the island abounded in oranges, she sent to Italy for her fruit. The view from the terrace over all the plain of Corfu, with its olive groves groups cypresses on one side and the sea and the mountains of Albania on the other one of the most exquisite I have ever seen.

The memoirs of His Royal Highness, Prince Nicholas of Greece and Denmark, My fifty years, 1926.

I was a child when the Empress came to Athens and saw her only once or twice, but I remember her more vividly than many people I knew far better. I imagine it was the same with everyone who came in contact with her. Her brilliant, beautiful and restless personality left an indelible impression. She was so enchanted with Greece that she decided to build a villa in Corfu. The site she chose could not have been more beautiful, about twelve miles outside the town, set on a high hill overlooking the sea on one side and a chain of mountains on the other. But she was too impatient even to look at the plans and gave the architect carte blanche. So instead of the simple cottage she had intended he erected an orate and hideous palace lavishly adorned with frescoes, statues and bronzes of every description. This atrocity cost the Austrian Govemment twelve million crowns, I believe. The Empress's life was dominated by the fear of losing her beauty. As she grew older it became an obsession. Hours were spent every moring brushing the glotious brown hair that she wore gathered into two great plaits coiled around her head. This hair-brushing was a matter of solemn ritual. Any hairs that fell out during the process were carefully collected and presented to the Empress on a silver salver. If their number proved to be too many the entire day was blackened to her. Once a captain of a Russian gunboat reported that he had seen a yacht coming into the Piraus harbour with a woman seated on the deck whose mass of hair reached down to the ground while two attendants stood behind her brushing it. " That could only be the Empress of Austria." said my father, when he heard the story. Later in the day a carriage drove up to the Palace and a mysterious visitor was announced, a lady who refused to give her name. It was, as we expected, the Empress Elizabeth. She insisted on preserving a strict incognito while she was in Greece, although it seemed rather unnecessary, since everyone knew who she was. She detested nothing so much as being photographed, or even looked at for that matter, and always carried a large fan with her on her walks, so that she could unfurl it and hide her face from the passers-by. The Empress was a fine woman in many respects, far finer, I think, than most of her biogtaphers have represented her. Intelligent, intuitive, sensitive, she had all the qualities to make a great empress. But she was tragically lacking in a sense of proportion. Even in the small issues of everyday life she had no idea of modera-tion. She could not take anything up without making it a mania. While she was in Corfu she set herself to learn Greek, although she had gone there to rest. Now Greek is a complicated language and its study is hardly to be recommended as a restful pursuit. The Empress certainly did not regard it as such either for herself or any one else, for she wore out her two teachers, Count Mercati and Mr. Christomanos. Every day she walked ten or twelve miles with one or the other, talking Greek all the way and, even during the hair-brushing ceremony, one of them was always present reading to her. Her figure became another obsession with her. Although she was exaggeratedly slender when she came to Greece (she weighed, I believe, only seven stones) no Hollywood film star could have followed out a more Spartan regime. Her constant dieting made her irritable and depressed. Even when she lunched with my mother and father she would often eat nothing but a salad and some fruit, and she would start off immediately afterwards on one of her exhausting walks, skimming over the ground like a restless, beautiful wraith.

The memoirs of His Royal Highness, Prince Christopher of Greece and Denmark, 1938.

[burningdreambanana]

Tom Riddle was actually always pretty stupid and incompetent

Book 1 : I understand why he couldn't get the stone from the mirror but why did it take him so long to get passed three obstacles so easy three eleven years old were able to do it? Also apparently he has the ability to travel as a spirit form and take control of a humane body so why did he wait in a forest for a decade instead of paying a visit to one of his death eathers in liberty and try to get his body back?

Book 2 : Opening the chamber in the 1940s was pretty stupid when you remember that Dumbledore knows he's a Parseltongue and thus a likely descendant of Slytherin making a primary suspect. The only reason he got away with it is because Dumbledore yet again kept crucial information to himself instead of informing the authorities who could have used Veritaserum to get the truth out of him. Also him and the Basilik only managed to kill one person despite all their attempts which is pretty weak. His plan to kill Harry was based entirely on a twelve-year-old being able to rapidly find where the Chamber was (something not even Dumbledore had been able to do in decades) and going there alone (what if Harry had asked McGonagall to come instead of Lockart?). Also he forgot about Phoenix healing powers which is very stupid for someone who is supposed to be so knowledgeable

Book 4 : His convulated plan only worked because Barty Crouch and Harry are actually competent and some dumb luck. What if Harry had failed despite Barty's (relatively small) help? What if he had not to really try since he and Dumbledore know the whole thing is most likely a trap? What if Cedric had been a little bit more selfish and actually grabbed the Cup alone when Harry told him to? Also him torturing his own followers is pretty stupid. And he had Harry at his mercy, why did he felt the need to untie Harry and duel him? How is he not embarrassed to show his followers he wants to prove his more powerful than a fourteen years old? Where's the dignity?

Book 5 : His plan was even more stupid and convulated, and once again relied on incredible luck. He expected a fifteen year old to escape school, break into the Department of Mysteries without being caught where his Death Eaters would also have been able to safely infiltrate and he also expected his Deaths Eaters to be able to take back the prophecy to him without being caught. So my question is, if it's so easy to get in and out of the Ministry, why not just do it himself? Instead of relying on such a shaky plan that took him all year and relied on Harry not being able to contact Sirius (if he had used the mirror, or only been able to do the floo call some time later all could have changed). Also he supposedly did all that because he was scared of even the small possibility of being seen at the Ministry and yet after waiting all year, he ruins it all by showing up anyway

Book 6 : Not sure why he wastes so much energy trying to punish Lucius. Just ask Severus to kill Dumbledore at the beginning of the year and stop wasting time. I get that the memory with Slughorn functions like an exposition scene to the Horcruxes but you have to wonder why Tom thought Slughorn would know if it's safe to do seven horcruxes? It's not like he ever seemed to be particularly knowledgeable in dark magic and he doesn't get an answer anyway. Also why didn't he kill him a long time ago? For someone who cared so much about immortality, the way Riddle acted about his Horcruxes is ridiculously stupid and careless : Ok, I get that he feels only special objects are worthy of his precious soul but why oh why did he also decided to hid them in places significant to him? Why not throw the locket into to bottom of some enchanted well in Mexico? Or keep the diadem hidden in some tree in Albania? Or keep the ring on his finger ? Like the second he thought about it for a minute he realized there was a chance Dumbledore knew about the cave and his link to the Gaunts. It's so short-sighted. He also apparently decided to never check on them even though it only takes a few hours as we saw at the end of Book 7, otherwise he would have find out that Regulus had stole the locket and been more wary.

Book 7 : Humiliates his most faithful and skilled Death Eather (Bellatrix) for no reason. After failing to kill Harry yet again at the Battle of the Seven Potters you'd think someone actually smart would sit down and reconsider the whole thing and dive deep into how love protection magic works and wand lore. But no he just decides he needs a more powerful wand (very primitive) and wastes months looking for it everywhere even though Dumbledore's grave seems like a pretty good way to start. Uses Avada Kadavra on Harry yet again in the forest. I'm not one of these people who think he should have used a gun or even had a Death Eater do it necessarily but there are other spells that can kill. Why not simply set Harry on fire or have him choke to death. And what's funnier is that he still relied on Avada Kadavra in their final duel, what did he thought, fifth time the charm? And why did he rely on Narcissa to check on him? I thought he was supposed to not really trust anyone but himself? Heck he could have had her check if he was so scared of Harry and then go himself to make sure it's true.

Finally, it's pretty weird how Voldemort was aware of his connexion with Harry, even used it but never seemed to wonder why it existed. Maybe if he would have, he could have guessed that Harry was a Horcrux.

To end this rant I want to say that while I still love Harry Potter (these books are much funnier than I realized as a kid) Voldemort is just a very sad villain : he spent ten years working in retail (lol), ten years practising dark magic somewhere (ok pretty cool), tried and failed to become a teacher (lol), spent more than a decade trying and failing to take over Wizarding Britain despite the Ministry being super incompetent and corrupt and having many prominent families on his side (lol), more than a decade as a spirit form in Albania, two years doing god knows what and then actually took over Britain for nine months before dying at the age of 72.