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"Could be. I don't have a lot of practice with the vampire senses, so it's hard for me to estimate how strongly the smell of Giles is going to pervade a hall he was briefly dragged along."

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"Fair enough. I'd recognize Giles's voice, if he happened to be talking... loud enough to hear through a door, my senses boosts are pretty trivial except in terms of what happened to my reaction time."

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"If either of them happened to be talking I could place their accents, which would be a big hint."

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"Yeah, especially since the lady didn't need to ask clarifying questions." Stroll stroll down the oddly carpeted hall.

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Stroll stroll. Stroll stroll stroll.

Pause.

Closer inspection of the door that smells ever so faintly of Giles.
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Bella listens, when he stops.

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"Well, if the fight isn't decided by now I'll eat my hat. Don't you worry, Rupert, if you've done well with her in spite of everything she'll be quite all right. Better in the long run."
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"No comment."

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Sherlock listens to this exchange, glances at Bella, and raises his eyebrows. What excellent timing they seem to have.

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It doesn't sound like Bella caught all of the asshole's remark, but she recognized Giles's voice.

When the door opens, the person opening it is Very Startled And Confused!
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Sherlock grins at him. It just seems like the thing to do.

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"Is this a valid answer to the test?" Bella asks, taking a step forward into the asshole's personal space. He steps back into the hotel room. "See, I didn't read the instructions. That you didn't give me. So I may have done the exercise wrong. I probably went wrong back when I forgot to bring a number two pencil, didn't I."

"I - this is not what you were supposed to -"

"No, I was supposed to kill him, probably, because all the vampires I have already killed are meaningless when you want to know if you can sic me on whoever or whatever suits you like I'm some kind of assassin-cum-slave labor. Well, I failed your test alive. You want to try to fix this imbalance? Giles, it is an enormous relief right now that you are tied to a chair; should I be scared of this creep?"
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"Probably not," says Giles. "He has stakes and a gun, but I don't believe it's loaded."

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"Stakes! How terrifying," says Sherlock.

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"I'm quaking in my boots. So, asshole, what's your name?"

"Now see here, young lady -"

Now the asshole is on his face on the floor with his hands pinned behind his back and a knee in his sciatic nerve. "I have a name. I'm going to assume you know it. Or you could go with a nice, respectful 'Slayer'."

"Slayer," says the asshole against the carpet, "attacking a human being is -"

"- what you did to me this afternoon," says Bella sweetly. "Sherlock, can I get you to untie my Watcher and call my dad, please?"
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"Of course," he says cheerfully.

He unties Bella's Watcher. He calls Bella's dad.
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Bella's Watcher eyes the strangely helpful vampire suspiciously, but doesn't try anything.

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"Charlie Swan," Charlie answers the phone.

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"We have found the man who kidnapped your daughter," says Sherlock. "She has him under control."

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"Where are you?"

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"At the Holiday Inn." He provides the room number.

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"On my way."

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"He says he's on his way," Sherlock reports to Bella.

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"Thank you, Sherlock. Giles, what is this tweedy creep's name?"

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"Arthur Mallory."

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