Casino Infiltration
White cigarette smoke rose lazily into the sky. A short-haired woman followed its trail with her gaze, staring quietly at the dark night sky. Then she pulled a single card from her bosom and examined it intently.
Was the riddle's solution correct? Who knew. It was time to go find out.
Click-clack. The sound of heels approached from ahead, and Gadget looked up. A pleased smile crept across her face at the girl's dramatically transformed appearance.
"You look much better dressed like that."
"...Do I have to do this?"
The girl twisted her body, her face slightly flushed—embarrassed by her unfamiliar look, no doubt. It was understandable. How could anyone associate this beautiful, fresh-faced vision with the usual Sherlock? The girl's looks had always been striking, of course, but her peculiar outfit had always held her back.
A hunting cap and Inverness cape? That was the getup of some chain-smoking middle-aged geezer.
By contrast, how stunning she was now. A luxurious wine-red dress, long straight hair cascading freely, elegant low heels, and sparkling accessories. She was the picture-perfect noble young lady, the kind that drew gasps of admiration from anyone who saw her.
"Just bear with it a little, even if it's embarrassing. It's for the investigation."
Gadget chuckled mischievously as she spoke, though her words rang true. The reason Sherlock was all dolled up like this was to enter the casino where the phantom thief was expected to appear.
"And you're dressed the same as always, Detective."
"I'm a cop. You're a civilian, Sherlock."
Gadget had official investigative authority from the state, while Sherlock operated purely as a private citizen. Their backgrounds naturally led to differences in every respect. Sure, Sherlock could exercise limited rights if formally requested to assist, but that was theoretical—far from easy in practice. Besides, Gadget herself was on thin ice thanks to the Executioners, leaving no room for such luxuries.
All these tangled reasons had led to the current situation.
"Time to head out."
"Yes."
When the two arrived at the casino, it was business as usual—the glittering heart of gold. They'd deliberately kept security subtle to avoid alerting the thief.
Come to think of it, the only time they'd truly cornered the bastard was by luring him into complacency. They should have caught him in the sewers back then, but that damn monster alligator had shown up.
Gadget reminisced wistfully about the old days, feeling the familiar nicotine craving creep in again.
In front of the casino, the two faced each other.
"Good luck, then."
"You too. See you later."
Today, they had different roles. While Sherlock posed as a guest to hunt for the phantom thief suspect inside, Gadget would coordinate the undercover cops outside and guard the jewel.
After exchanging well-wishes, they parted. The girl ascended the stairs to the entrance with awkward steps.
These heels... so uncomfortable.
She'd hardly ever worn high heels before, and they felt nothing but cumbersome. The dress, cinched tight in all the wrong places, offered zero practicality either.
Finally reaching the entrance, the guard gave her outfit a quick once-over and bowed his head.
"Welcome, miss."
Only the general manager and a handful of auction staff knew the phantom thief might target the casino tonight. To everyone else—including this guard—it was just another night. Unavoidable, really. They weren't even certain Raven had chosen this place. It was the most likely spot, so Sherlock and Gadget were here, but cops were staking out the other candidates too.
If that notice was accurate...
The thief would hit this casino tonight. At least, Sherlock was convinced of it.
"Miss?"
"Oh, right here."
Snapping out of her daze at the guard's call, Sherlock fished out the VIP pass she'd tucked carefully in her bosom and showed it to him. She'd gotten it from the manager for investigative purposes—or more accurately, pried it out of him.
"My apologies! Have a wonderful evening!"
The man's attitude flipped the instant he saw the VIP pass; he bowed so low his head nearly touched the ground. Sherlock watched curiously before stepping through the open door.
Wow...
Even Sherlock, whose emotions rarely stirred, paused in awe. The casino's interior was utterly fantastical. But she kept her composure, walking naturally without betraying a hint. To onlookers, she blended seamlessly into the scene—likely thanks to her aristocratic aura and refined beauty.
Was Raven somewhere in here? Or perhaps still lurking outside, biding his time?
Sherlock scanned her surroundings carefully as she moved forward, ready to flag anyone suspicious. None yet.
No need to rush into the auction hall. Everyone entering was being thoroughly vetted, and the rest of the casino was under tight police watch. If the thief was targeting this place, the odds were high he was already inside.
Where? Who?
Sherlock cataloged every tiny detail in her mind. Anything remotely off triggered suspicions of a thief's trick.
That's when it happened.
"Good evening, miss."
A middle-aged man appeared abruptly, greeting her with oily charm. The moment Sherlock saw his face, a reflexive thought flashed:
Raven?
Given their persistent feud, he might have spotted her first and approached. He looked like nothing more than a leering creep at a glance, but she glared warily and replied.
"Who are you?"
"Are you here alone, by any chance?"
"And if I am?"
"Heh heh. If you don't mind, may I offer to escort you? If it's your first time, I'd be happy to show you around."
No need to hear more. Whether he was Raven or not, tagging along offered zero benefits. Better to tail him discreetly from afar.
"No thanks."
She brushed him off coldly and turned to leave, but the man was stickier than expected.
"Come on, think it over. It's dangerous for a young lady to wander these places alone late at night."
Isn't it guys like you that make it dangerous?
Sherlock shot him an incredulous look and opened her mouth to retort—but someone wedged between them first.
"Hey, creep. Why don't you buzz off?"
"...What? Creep?"
"What else would you call it? Beat it, or I'll call security."
"Tch. Some hag's butting in!"
The woman yelled after the departing man as he clicked his tongue.
"I'm not a hag! I'm way younger than you!!"
What an odd woman. That was Sherlock's first impression upon properly facing her.
Not Raven.
No matter how good his disguises, changing gender was a stretch. And there was no reason to draw attention with such a commotion.
The woman, finally calming her outburst, turned with a sheepish expression. Up close, she was a clean-cut woman in her twenties. Her light brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, giving her a mature air—but hardly "hag" material. Maybe her height?
Sensing Sherlock's unabashed stare, the woman cleared her throat awkwardly.
"Ahem. This place is full of creeps like that. ...Not that I've dealt with many myself."
"Thank you."
It was something Sherlock could have handled alone, but help was help.
"Here by yourself? You look pretty young."
"Yes."
"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was in the military too long—words just come out blunt."
"It's fine."
The woman grinned and extended her hand.
"I like your vibe. Name's Joan Watson."
"Call me Sherlock."
"Charlotte?"
"Sherlock."
"Unique name."
Despite their opposite personalities, the two clicked surprisingly well. Truth be told, it was Joan's sociable nature driving the chatter—more accurately, she'd taken a shine to Sherlock.
"First time at a casino?"
"Yes."
"Perfect timing! I'm basically the queen of casinos. Feels like my second home."
Is that a good thing?
Sherlock wondered silently but kept it to herself.
"Funny, I saw another quirky character like you a few days ago."
"I see."
Sherlock gave a perfunctory reply, but Joan barreled on enthusiastically, undeterred.
Can't get stuck here too long.
Just as she thought to excuse herself—
"A guy named Arsene Lupin."
"...Lupin?"
"Yeah. New to gambling, but man, he was good. Hey! That's him coming in now!"
Sherlock whipped her head toward the entrance on reflex. Her eyes locked precisely with a man just entering.
For a long moment, the two held each other's gaze.