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Sherlock jerked the door open, as he glared at the mindless witch. “WHAT IN THE WORLD IS YOUR PROBLEM?!”

Before he could break that dummy’s nose, Sherlock felt Arsene tackle him from behind. Unfortunately for the traitor, Sherlock was able to fall backwards onto him. As he winced in pain, Arsene squeaked like a mouse. “Everything’s fine, ma’am. Go back to sleep.”

“It’s morning.” The peasant added.

“No, it’s an illusion, go back to bed.” Arsene said in a strained voice, “Now get off of me, Sherlock.”

“Make me, mouse.” Sherlock hissed.

With the giveaway smirk of chaos, Arsene responded with far too much satisfaction in his voice. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Oh heck. Before Sherlock could stab the rat, Arsene hurled him into the wall. The thief’s hands now had shiny black scales, with the powerful dragon claws having torn through his already in bad shape gloves.

Sherlock was about to lecture his older brother, when he sniffed the air. Absentmindedly, Sherlock let his attitude change as he asked. “…Is something burning?”