Hey guys, quick author's note! I've never actually watched Sherlock, I only absorbed their personalities from what I could guess and the little fan-made content I've seen. Please don't judge, but I hope I did justice to the characters! '^^

Anyway, enjoy the short story!

---

Cecil took a step back from his desk, smiling in satisfaction at the makeshift radio equipment he had just put together. 

He practically spent half his life in the radio tower, he knew how to put together a simple microphone and hack into the school's announcement system! So now he was their (unofficial) radio announcer. Which was good, he thought, as he didn't want to be unnerved by not doing any announcing. 

He was a reporter, he couldn't not report!

Carlos peeked his head in from the other room, raising an eyebrow and smiling at the equipment. "Do you have permission to do that, Cecil?" he asked, walking into the room and leaning over the announcer's shoulder. 

Cecil shrugged. "Maybe, mayhap not. Either way, it's going to be amazing!" he sang, twirling in a slow circle around Carlos. Lovely Carlos, with his beautiful, perfect hair, and warm, beautiful eyes. 

Sighing, Carlos wrinkled his nose at Cecil and walked back out of the room. "If you get in trouble, don't mention me," he called. 

"I would never get you in trouble," Cecil replied simply back, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Carlos laughed and ducked back into the bedroom, now holding his bag of clothes. "Did you bring anything except for radio equipment?" he asked, rolling his eyes. 

Cecil thought about it. He didn't remember packing any clothes, but he certainly remembered packing his radio equipment. 

Mostly because that day the entire town had been plagued by torrents of blood rain until the streets were flooded with the thick, scarlet-black liquid. It had been quite inconvenient, and everyone had been ordered to go home. 

Yup, blood rain. That'll do the trick for the ol' memory. 

"Probably?" Cecil tried, grinning nervously. He sat down on the bed, flopping back onto the fluffy mattress and turning over to prop his head on his hands. 

Carlos rubbed his eyes. "You need to take better care of your stuff, Cecil," he reminded the blonde, sitting next to him and running his hands through Cecil's hair with a small sigh. "You can't just walk around the school in pajamas all the time, you know." 

Cecil nodded, nuzzling a little closer to his boyfriend. "Okay, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I also wanted to bring Koshekh, but I couldn't fit him into my suitcase." He frowned. "I'm going to miss him."

"I know," Carlos agreed, remembering the hisses and yowls that had come from Cecil's vain attempts to fit the cat into a leather suitcase. He patted Cecil on the back and huffed out a laugh, seeing that his glasses were slipping down his face. Cecil blushed dark red as Carlos fixed them for him, and smiled embarrassedly at the other. 

Cecil yawned, stretching back and rolling over so that he was snuggled right next to Carlos. "I'm tired," he mumbled. "Putting up radio stuff does that to me." He closed his eyes. It was so warm here, next to Carlos...

Sadly, that warmth was disrupted when Carlos promptly stood up. Cecil fell off the bed with a yelp, ending up upside-down with a disgruntled expression. He flipped himself upright and pouted, crossing his arms. "What did you do that for, Carlos?"

Carlos raised his eyebrows at Cecil. "Didn't you want to explore and meet new people?" he asked, holding out his hand to help Cecil up. 

Cecil paused for a second, then made a little gasp of surprise. "Oh yeah! Time to show these new people just how wonderful the citizens from our lovely city can be." He grasped Carlos's hand, pulling himself up and smiling excitedly. 

Carlos laughed. "Alright, then. I wonder who we'll meet," he admitted, stretching his arms out and heading for the door. "Let's not let any more dragons out of their cages, though."

Cecil remembered with fondness the large, scaly beast that had looked at him with those big, puppy-dog eyes that he could never say no to. "But it was so sad," he whined. 

Rolling his eyes, Carlos nudged Cecil. "That's what we don't want," he reminded Cecil. "Okay?"

Cecil sighed in exasperation. "Alright, fine," he muttered. "I wonder if this school will be as exciting as Night Vale. I already miss Old Woman Josie and the Erikas." He hummed tunelessly, tugging at his sleeve and examining himself in the mirror. 

After running a hand through his hair and smiling quickly at himself, he turned to Carlos and nodded. "I'm ready to go!" he declared, tossing his hair behind his shoulder and grabbing Carlos's hands, tugging the scientist towards the door. 

Giggling again, Carlos pried Cecil's hands off of his own and nudged him. Cecil pouted, but Carlos only shook his head and grinned at Cecil. "Come on, let's explore for a bit," he repeated, making Cecil light up. 

"Just what I wanted to hear!" Cecil replied happily, and the two walked out of the door and promptly bumped into a tall, slim boy frowning at someone else. 

Carlos yelped, jumping back and pulling Cecil back with him. "Sorry!" Carlos apologized, turning to Cecil and nodding at him. 

Cecil paused, then remembered what he was supposed to say to 'normal' people (in Night Vale after 3:00 PM apologies were performed by flying to someone's window-- witchcraft or use of magical creatures was allowed-- and throwing a plump goose into their room). "Sorry!" he echoed quickly, smiling. 

The boy narrowed his eyes at them and huffed a laugh, adjusting his sleeves. He was quite tall, and very thin, with raven-black hair that fell over his eyes in bouncy curls and slightly colorless green-blue eyes. He looked the two up and down, sending shivers down Cecil's spine, and raised an eyebrow. "From out of town?" he asked abruptly. He had a thick British accent and brushed a curl out of his face as he talked, tucking it behind his ear. 

"Yes!" Cecil answered, tilting his head and smiling in what he thought was quite a friendly way. 

In reality, it actually made him look like a maniac chipmunk, but it's the thought that counts, right? Right!

Carlos opened and closed his mouth, finally settling for a silent nod. "I-- doubt there's anyone in town since this is a school," he commented, looking around. "Right?"

The boy laughed again. It was cold and tuneless, and Cecil decided that he didn't like it. It needed to be warmer, and more purposeful. More like Carlos's laugh, he thought dreamily, remembering all the times he had made Carlos, his perfect Carlos laugh. 

"I suppose not," the tall boy said. "Well, hurry along to what you're doing. In the meanwhile, I am going to be proving my wits over this challenger who claims to be smarter than me."

Cecil gasped softly. "Really? That sounds fun! Mind if I commentate?" he asked slyly, and Carlos let out a long, exasperated sigh. 

The boy paused. "No, if you would find it enjoyable I would let you." He sent his opponent a leveling stare. "Would you mind?"

Cecil looked over and saw a much shorter boy grinning at them, a lollipop in one hand and a brown hat grasped somewhat carelessly in the other. He had a jaunty, mischievous air about him, as if he was better-- smarter?-- than everyone else, and knew it, too. His hair was dark brown like an elm tree and stuck up messily in places, his skin pale and freckles dotting his neck and the backs of his hands. "'Course not," he replied simply, bowing at Cecil and Carlos, then slipping his hat back on. "But why don't you introduce yourself first, Sherlock?"

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock crossed his arms. "Well, you've already done that for me. Well, I'm Sherlock, and my partner, John, is over there." He nodded towards a short boy with blonde hair and a slightly apprehensive expression. "And that one next to him is..." he trailed off, frowning. "I don't believe you've introduced yourself yet."

A boy with nearly black hair falling in soft waves all around his face and shimmering magenta eyes jumped, opening and closing his mouth several times. "I-- I-- I'm Poe," he finally managed to stutter out, his voice a quiet whisper. 

"And I'm Ranpo," the mischievous brunette added, tipping his hat again to the group. "Master detective." 

"No, I'm the master detective," Sherlock cut in. 

"No, I am!"

"No, me!"

"No--"

What if both of you get the cookie? That's right, you can share it, alright? Here, you can have a pat on the head as well if you behave. 

"Alright," Carlos cut in, stepping between the two with a long sigh. "we get it. You two are smart. Great, good for you." When he was certain that they wouldn't start arguing again, he stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. Cecil watched him with admiration, a smile slowly tugging at his lips. 

Cecil grinned. "Let's take this somewhere else!" he declared, grabbing both Sherlock and Ranpo by the arm and tugging them down the hallway. Ranpo shook him off easily and continued following him with a hop in his step and the occasional twirl, but Sherlock only rolled his eyes and let the radio announcer drag him along. 

Carlos opened and closed his mouth, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, then," he said simply, sending a glance back at Poe and John. "Are you two going to come too?"

"Oh! Uh-- uh--" Poe stammered, jumping slightly at being talked to. "I-- well, I--" He blushed darkly in embarrassment, and his words faded off into a mumble as he curled into himself. He obviously wasn't a social person, Carlos thought with some exasperation. 

Well, that's an understatement!

John shrugged. "I suppose so," he replied in a matching British accent to Sherlock's. "Someone needs to keep an eye on that psychopath, after all." 

"Sociopath!" Sherlock shouted from down the hall, still being dragged by Cecil. 

Carlos let out a long breath, rubbing his eyes and feeling as if he needed to sit down for a few minutes. However, he knew he couldn't do that, so he nodded at the two still standing in the hallway and followed the detectives. 

"A case?" N asked blankly, blinking a few times. Fae was frozen in the middle of drinking a cup of coffee, and some of faer other hands were typing on the computer. 

Cecil smiled. "That's right," he repeated. "These two can't seem to figure out just who is the master detective, so we were wondering if you could give us a case! Have there been any murders around here lately?"

N thought about it. "Not that I know of," fae replied, shrugging. "But heck if I know, right?"

"You know everything," Carlos pointed out. "At least, that's what you told us." He smiled at the six-armed person in front of him and N grinned back. He knew he was taking it much better than any of the others, as both he and Cecil lived in Night Vale-- they were used to seeing people with extra limbs. 

Sherlock and John, however, were both very surprised. "What, haven't you seen N before?" Cecil asked, amused. "Fae're at the desk, you can't miss faem. How did you get in if you didn't see N?" He passed the redheaded narrator a piece of gum and fae took it, nodding gratefully at him. 

John didn't speak for a while before finally answering in a weak voice. "N... wasn't here..." he mumbled, staring at N. "We just went straight... to our rooms," he finished. 

You mean gay to your rooms. There, I fix everything, don't I? I also cause a lot of problems, but we don't talk about that. 

N laughed. "Sorry about startling you, beauties," fae purred, spinning in faer chair and leaning on two of faer arms. "I didn't mean to, but just understand, you two are just darling when you're surprised." Fae giggled again, tilting faer head and grinning at them. 

"Uh... maybe?" John replied, still staring avidly at N. "What... are you?"

N rolled faer eyes lazily. "I've been asked that question much too many times. To answer it for the millionth time, no clue, really. I--" fae stopped, swallowing. "But that's not important, now is it?" fae cooed. 

Cecil smiled brightly. "I suppose not!" he chirped. "Where I come from, it's not at all about the why, it's mostly about the get out before the wheat by-products kill you! We don't ask questions because if you take that time to ask questions, you'll probably die." He drummed his fingers on the table, smiling. 

John opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. "I'm not going to ask," he mumbled. 

"You probably shouldn't," Carlos offered, amused. "I tried asking and it got me absolutely nowhere. I do not recommend it."

Poe tugged at his sleeve before asking in a soft voice, "So do we have a case or not?" When everyone looked at him, he squeaked and tried to hide behind Ranpo (that didn't work very well, as he is much taller than the detective. Sorry, dear). 

Sherlock looked quite excited. "That would be excellent if we did," he stated plainly, smiling tightly at the group. "So... what kind of case do we have?" He cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly with his hands. 

N rolled faer eyes. "Sorry, but I don't think there's a case." Fae paused, faer eyes lighting up. "...yet."

Cecil gasped. "You don't think--"

"Darling, I don't think," fae purred. "I know. And I know that we can very well make our own case. There are plenty of opportunities to choose from. Such as why someone decided to put a third-floor petting zoo into the designs, it's been nothing but a disaster!" Fae cleared faer throat. "Anyway. I might just have a case for you guys..."

---

Carlos stared, somewhat confused, into the massive, blackly dark forest stretching beyond the school grounds. 

Branches dripped with rotting-smelling moss and pollen-heavy flowers, slowly decomposing leaves trampled on the ground. Tall, oaken trees reached their branches into the sky, casting blackened shadows on the ground and shrouding what lay beyond the first few trees in cloaking darkness. A sound like a chipmunk dying came from their left, and then a gruesome squelch. 

Carlos flinched. "Uh." He stopped, clearing his throat. A scientist asks questions. A scientist is not scared by large dark forests where the light does not shine. 

He paused again at that thought, grimacing at the shadowy trees. "So, this is a case... how?" he glanced up at N, who was, in actuality, quite tall when not sitting cross-legged in an office chair. 

N grinned down at him, baring fanged teeth. "Well, you see, several students have vanished in this forest," N began, looping a languid circle around the group of gathered students. "I have here a file for you, and I want you to find this person."

Fae tapped a clipboard held tightly to faer chest, on which were several photos and at least three documents. "I want you to memorize the document. Whoever finds her first, wins." Fae tilted faer head, dark red hair falling around faer multicolored eyes. "Got it?" N handed the clipboard to Ranpo, who studied it for a few moments before tossing it carelessly to Sherlock. The other detective did the same and handed it back to N, who tucked it in a pocket concealed in the inside of faer scarlet cloak. 

"Good," N purred. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Cecil Palmer here will be the commentator, of course. You will be required to stick together in one group, for safety, and if you encounter an Echo, you should scream and run." Fae clapped faer hands together with a playful smirk. 

Ranpo blinked. "What's an Echo?" he asked curiously. 

N sighed. "It... mimics other people, and voices, and, well... most everything. It's easy to be fooled-- so don't split up."

John furrowed his brow, raising his hand to interrupt N. "But-- if it's an Echo," he said, "how will we know if it's not the real person?"

Everyone exchanged glances at that, even Cecil. Finally, N shook faer head in exasperation, waving faer hand airily. "Have a code word or something, then," fae answered. "Well, I'll be back at school! See you all later." Fae blew them a kiss and padded off, faer cloak smoothly fluttering in the wind. 

Carlos let out a long breath. "Well," he muttered, biting his lip. "Time to go into the forest."

"This is absolutely insane, you do realize," Poe offered. "Can't I just stay back at my dorm and read a book? Or seven?" He swallowed nervously, shifting around and squeezing his fists tight. 

Ranpo shook his head. "No way, Poe! This is an adventure!" He grinned, grabbing one of Poe's hands and tugging him into the forest. Sherlock, sighing, nodded at the others to follow him and began to walk after the first detective. 

Ah, yes! Adventure! That never ends badly. 

Cecil, humming a soft song, quickly took the lead and tapped his headphones twice, checking the sound. Carlos took a deep breath, readying himself for what came next. 

Nobody else was prepared for the sudden whirl of energy that blew through the forest like a fluttering breeze, soft and startling as a shiver running up someone's spine. Cecil turned to face the others, grinning again, his third eye beginning to open. 

Carlos thought he would never tire of seeing Cecil like this; there were always new things to notice. His other eyes were purple, sure, but this one was like layered amethysts, pearlescent purple and deep indigos fading over one another like a painting. It didn't look like a realistic drawing, even when it was open, but it moved and (apparently) acted like a real eye when Cecil was broadcasting. 

Sherlock could only stare, while John and Poe backed up slightly. Ranpo watched with a kind of nervous curiosity, his eyes wide and his expression amazed. 

Cecil, unaware of their shock, began to speak. 

The group had gotten off to a rough start, but things were already looking up as they entered the deep, dark, and strangely noisy forest. I mean, who is this loud? I know it's supposed to be scary and all that, but honestly, it seems more annoying, than frightening. 

Well, as it seems that there is another narrator here now, I suppose I'll leave them to it.

I'll see you all, readers, at the end of this story. Ciao!

"Alright then," Carlos said briskly, grabbing Ranpo and Sherlock's hands and trying to pull them along after his boyfriend. "We have a person to find, don't we? And this isn't exactly the strangest thing you've seen all day." 

Welcome to this strange trip to find a girl none of us know, named Maranda Carpenter, and perhaps none of us ever will. Let us hope and dream that she is not rotting behind a stump somewhere, and that we all have strong stomachs if she is. 

John sighed and muttered a curse, pulling a small flashlight out of his pocket and shaking his head as he did so. "I'm an army soldier, I know my way around dead bodies," he muttered. 

So do I, thought Carlos, sighing. I've been living in Night Vale for the past few years, and you tend to see some strange, not to mention gruesome, things there. He brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes and looked around, shivering at the sudden chill that hung on the forest like a limp ragdoll. 

"Besides, Maranda isn't dead," Ranpo piped up, startling Carlos out of his daydream. "She's on the west side of the forest, near a circle of trees, having a very bad time with some fairies." He padded over to where Poe was, smiling brightly at the taller boy. 

The detective said that Maranda wasn't dead, and if that is true, what else that he says is true? The creation of the universe? Strange things, no matter what. 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "And just how do you know that?"

Ranpo laughed. "For one, she's able to hunt and cook and protect herself. She's lived her entire life in a forest, and only now came to try and join this school, but she got lost in this forest." He waved his hands to encompass the place around them. "She obviously knows her way around living alone. And about the fairies thing, fairies always like to gather in a place with the most sunlight. At this time of day, which is when they come out the most, the spot with the most sunlight would be over in the west area. She likes fairies, and would follow them, but doesn't have very good eyes and rude manners so they would probably try to get her to step in a fairy ring. And step in it she did, as she can't see very well. So now she's trapped. I'd say they're using her as a test subject for fairy sleeping powder right about now," he considered. 

Carlos blinked at him. "Uh... wow," he managed. 

What a mouthful, folks! I don't know how he managed to say all of that in one breath, but boy, he did it and did it well. What an excellent addition to this ragtag team of ours, huh?

Poe nodded. "Ranpo's always been a wonderful detective," he murmured in a slightly dreamy tone. "I even get to assist in several cases. I'm-- not that good, though." Carlos smiled, wondering what it would be like to be a detective's assistant. Would he get to help solve murder cases? 

"Aw, you're a great sidekick," Ranpo teased, walking over to Poe and nudging him. "So, should we go?" He sent a wry look in Sherlock's direction, and the taller boy only glowered at him. 

Without a word, Sherlock stomped into the forest with John hurrying after him. Ranpo followed him with a grin, tugging Poe along behind him, and Cecil and Carlos were in the back. Carlos ran a hand through his hair with an exasperated, mumbled curse. 

Isn't this exciting? I rarely got to step outside my studio to commentate, listeners, so this is a fairly new thing for me. I wonder what kind of creatures we'll encounter, hm? What fun!

They tromped through the forest for around half an hour, looking around quickly for any sign of the girl. None, however, came. The forest was as quiet and deserted as an icy wasteland until a small giggle sounded behind the group, and a cold like death settled in the air. 

Ranpo whirled around, his eyes widening, but it was only a small, slim girl that stepped forward. She had auburn hair, tangled with sticks, and her pale, gaunt face was smeared with mud and stained with a darker liquid. Her eyes were hollow-seeming and far away, a strange, washed-out shade of blue-grey that stared past them. Her lips were turned upwards in a delicate smile, her cheeks lost of all color and her clothes hanging on her stick-thin body like rags on a doll. 

She smiled faintly at them and waved. "Hello," she said in a shivering tone. "Who are you?"

Sherlock turned to Ranpo with a see? Told you so expression and walked over to her. "Greetings, I am Sherlock Holmes. I and this group were sent out to search for you. Hello, Maranda." He smiled back at her, though it was just as emotionless as her own smile. 

Carlos glanced at Cecil, and sure enough, the radio announcer was shivering too. The cold got stronger and stronger, like some kind of deep-set fog, as Maranda stepped closer again. "You were sent... to rescue me?" she asked, her voice soft and wondering. 

"Yes, I believe so," Sherlock replied. 

Ranpo frowned, tilting his head at her. "No, this isn't right," he muttered. "She should be neck-deep in fairies. What's going on here?"

And then the sadness washed over them. 

It was mind-numbing and freezing, like the color had been leeched out of the world. Carlos couldn't remember the world ever being happy anymore, he was immersed in an icy depression that seized his mind and froze his body. 

Maranda blinked slowly at them, and her smile grew. "Thank you for rescuing me," she purred, her voice languid and cold. "I should do something for you in return..." she faded off, reaching up a hand to stroke Sherlock's cheek. "Although, you're not the best-looking here," she murmured. 

Carlos looked around at the others. Cecil stepped closer to him, his face frozen in a scared frown. He grabbed for Carlos's hand, wrapping his around Carlos's and tugging the scientist closer. "W-w-what does she m-mean?" Cecil asked, his teeth chattering. 

"I d-don't know," whispered Carlos in return, trying to think. Think, think think... but he couldn't. It was so cold... couldn't he think... later?

Yes... later...

And then a flash of metal was seen, and a scream was heard, and Carlos's whole world turned red. 

---

What had happened?

Carlos's mind became a whirl of motion and movement as John doubled over, a thick-handled knife buried in his stomach. He barely registered the cold anymore, shock tearing his world wide open. 

Surprisingly, John only screamed once, and then it was quiet, dread-filled shock spreading like wildfire through the small group. Maranda-- no, wait. 

'Maranda' started laughing, her eyes becoming narrow and sharp, her skin becoming porcelein-pale and decorated with strange, looping-lace markings all around her cheekbones. Her clothes shimmered and turned into a light, pale-blue cloak, matching the color of her now-long hair. 

'Maranda' wasn't Maranda. 

She was... something else. 

"What are you?!" Carlos shouted, taking a step forward. Cecil put a hand in front of him, his eyes narrowed at the girl. Ranpo, pulling something out of his pocket, smiled slowly, his expression becoming calculating. He turned, beginning to whisper something to Poe. 

"I'm an Echo," she responded, and at her voice, another chill came through the air, sharper and... somehow sadder this time. "And I'm sad. And I want to be happy. And guess what?" She raised her arms, her nails now claws. "You're warm and toasty, and mm-mm, you taste good." Her voice was languid and slow, though it dripped with venom. 

Sherlock snarled, once, low and deep in his throat. She giggled again, pressing a finger to his lips and jumping back as he tried to slash at her with a pocket knife. "Bad boy," she cooed. "One of my kind has already been killed this past month, you don't want to make that two do you now?"

Ranpo let out a slow breath. "Let us go," he snapped, his voice more serious than Carlos had heard it. "Leave." 

"You're the ones who'd better run," she teased in a sing-song voice, her nails tapping rhythmically on the tree trunks. "I think your friend is dying." She laughed again, leaning forward. "Oops!"

It was true, Carlos realized, a spear of worry running through him. He didn't know John that well, but he knew he didn't want to watch him die. 

The Echo paused, then grinned. "I have a fun game!" she purred. "Why don't I kill each and every one of you, rip out your guts and make a sweater for myself out of your livers? I already have this lovely cloak out of Maranda-darling." She twirled the cloak around herself, smiling eerily. 

Cecil raised an eyebrow. "I've had worse happen to me," he called to her, a bored look on his face. "See, if that's really all you have, I'm not exactly... scared." He frowned. 

"Well, I am," John choked out, glaring at him. "I'm kind of dying." He spread his arms and doubled over, leaning against a tree and coughing violently. 

Sherlock grimaced, hurrying over to where John was. Poe was already there, tying a strip of cloth that he had torn off of his sleeve around John's injury. They had pulled the knife out, and Poe was pouring some kind of alcohol over the wound as Sherlock directed him. "Will you be alright?" the detective asked hurriedly. 

John shrugged. "I'm unable to formulate a diagnosis, Sherlock," he muttered. "I can't exactly think at all right now, sorry. Bloody..." his curse faded off as he coughed again, and Poe yelped. 

"I've got a diagnosis for you," the Echo said delightedly. "Death!" She laughed, spinning in a slow circle. 

Carlos was still frozen, and then he remembered the small knife that he always carried no matter what. He fumbled around in his pocket, pulling out the small, thick-bladed knife and staring at it. Was he really going to stab someone? 

He glanced around, breathing in and out. John was crumpled against the tree, his eyes squeezed shut as Poe and Sherlock tried to stem the bleeding. And Cecil was still standing in front of Carlos, his breathing ragged. 

Yes. Yes, he was going to stab someone. 

With that not-at-all comforting thought in mind, he stepped forward and raised his knife, pushing Cecil out of the way gently. 

The Echo stared eerily at him, a smile crossing her face. "Hello, dear," she cooed as he took another step. "Who're you?" 

She lunged forward, grabbing his hands and squeezing them tightly. His arms shook as she advanced forward, pressing him against a tree and turning his knife backward so it was pressed against his own neck. 

"Did you really think," she hissed, her breath hot on his neck, "that you could kill me? Really?"

"I..." he started, but his mouth felt like cotton, his heart thundering in his chest. His eyes flickered behind her shoulder, and a small smile tugged at his mouth. "Sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this," he started, shaking his head. "But you really are an idiot."

The Echo stopped at that, pulling away slightly to send him a confused look. "What do you--"

And then the blade of a knife plunged straight through her neck, slicing through her spine and severing her vocal cords. She let go of Carlos instantly and staggered back, pulling the knife out of her throat and staring in horrified wonder at the bloody dagger. 

Ranpo was standing several paces behind her, his eyes narrowed and his breathing heavy. As she fell to her knees Cecil ran forward, pulling Carlos away from the tree and squeezing the scientist in a hug. "Are you alright?" the announcer asked, and Carlos could only nod. 

"Barely," he panted, and Cecil squeezed him again. Carlos let out a long breath, closing his eyes in relief. "Am I still alive?"

Cecil chuckled. "Are we ever alive?" he whispered, but his face was all relief and worry. 

Ranpo walked over to where John was, bending down. "How're you doing?" he asked, tilting his head. 

The blonde boy just shook his head, letting out a ragged sigh. "I want to get back to the school," he mumbled. Sherlock swallowed and let out a long breath, pulling John to his feet and helping him stagger-walk. Poe stood up as well, dusting off his pants and sending a worried look at John and Sherlock. 

"Can we please go back to the school?" Poe asked in a trembling voice. "I don't want to do this again."

Ranpo shrugged. "Yeah, I think we should do that," he replied. "I need some candy, otherwise I'll pass out from stress." He yawned, stretching. "This was a mess."

"No shit," Carlos muttered. He turned to Cecil, sending him a glare. "Please do not commentate on any more deductive matches between these two ever again."

Cecil smiled at Carlos, leaning over to press a kiss on Carlos's cheek. "If you say so," he sighed. 

Carlos grinned tiredly back at his boyfriend, nudging him. "Thank you."