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Title The Return of Sherlock Holmes - Part 8, Inspector Lestrade
Characters Holmes/Watson, Lestrade
Fandom Sherlock Holmes
Rating 18
SeriesThe Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes
Summary Based around The Empty House but set in a paranormal/steampunk AU. Sherlock returns to England, followed by an old enemy.
Warnings Vampires, explicit sex
Author's Notes Based on a combination of book and Granada TV canon. With thanks to Gil and Fred for the beta and Lucas and Ginny for unreserved encouragement (is it still 'encouragement when it comes with threats and pointy sticks?).
I was in my office trying to manage a quick wash and brush up in the basin my sergeant had provided when the runner arrived. Shaving over a basin at my desk wasn't my idea of fun but it was better than letting the Superintendent catch me with stubble and a wrinkled suit. He liked his men to work long hours, even staying all night like I had done last night, but he thought we needed to keep up a proper image as well, which meant looking smart no matter what. I rolled my eyes at the thought. It was all very well for him to lay down these rules, but I'd never seen him sat at his desk, trying not to get foam on his blotter or slice his face open. The knock on the door made me curse as I damn near cut my own throat, but my snarled 'come in' didn't seem to dent the boy's irrepressible grin in the slightest.
It was one of the Irregulars, the street rats who'd worked for Mr Holmes and now split their time between running his brother's errands and watching over the Doc, not that I thought the Doc had noticed and I wasn't going to be the one to tell him neither. Mr Holmes' over-protectiveness had always rankled with the Doc when the man was still alive; I wasn't going to break it to him that he'd managed to find a way to keep it up from beyond the grave.
As they say, speak of the devil and he'll appear. The message the boy had carried was from the Doc, summoning me to his home immediately. I started to scrabble in my pocket for a coin but the boy just grinned.
“'S all right, guv'nor. The Doctor give me a coin and said to come right back; they was going to need a lot of us today.” He grinned again and ran off, easily avoiding the constable who had showed him up, leaving the lad red-faced as he chased after him.
That sounded bad. I used my shirt to wipe the rest of the foam off my face and quickly put a clean one on, buttoning it up as I hurried through the building. Damn, I knew I should have sent a constable to stand watch outside of the Doc's house. This monster we were hunting who could kill people even though they were safely locked inside their own home was just the type to hold a grudge against the men trying to catch him. I'd thought that yesterday, but I'd let the Doc go home alone anyway. Mr Holmes might have been over-protective, but I'd gone too far the other way. If something had happened the monster would soon learn there was be nowhere in this City he could hide. The Yard would catch him and see him hang or I'd know the reason why not.
I hailed a Hansom and collared young Hopkins to come with me. Identifying myself to the driver I told him there would be a florin in it for him if he made it in less than ten minutes. I could have used one of the steam bone-shakers the Yard had bought, but I was too damn old to let myself get shaken into bits by one of those contraptions. A nice traditional horse-drawn cab would suit me fine. Not that the ride was exactly smooth because of the rush, but it wasn't the tooth-rattling experience a bone-shaker was either, and in my experience horses very rarely explode, which is more than you could say for the bone-shakers or the new fangled horseless omnibuses that were starting to pop up in London.
As we jumped out of the cab the door was flung open and Doctor Watson called my name before glancing warily at Sergeant Hopkins. The fact he was answering his own door instead of letting that battleaxe of a housekeeper do it, spoke again of the urgency that had been present in his message.
“Doctor Watson! I came as soon as I got your message. What the devil is wrong?”
He looked at the sergeant again. “It's not something we can discuss on the doorstep, Lestrade. Come in.” He hesitated. “I'm sorry but this needs to be in confidence for now. Once you have the full facts you have my permission to bring in anyone you need to.”
I nodded and gestured to the sergeant. “Hopkins, stand here and … oh I don't know, guard the door or count the bricks or something. Don't let anyone past you.” Then I followed Watson inside and into his consulting room without a backwards glance. Hopkins is a good lad and won't take offence at being left outside and if the Doc says he needs to talk to me alone then that's good enough for me. I trust his judgement more than any man, save one, and more when it comes to matters that need a level head and good, old fashioned common sense instead of high-flown flights of fancy.
“Right then, tell me what's so important you needed to send one of Holmes' street rats for me?” I asked, trying not to let on that I was being eaten up by my curiosity. It's an occupational hazard, unfortunately. If you don't have it when you join up, you will by the time they put you out to pasture.
“Before I show you why you had to come here, there's a story you need to hear, and someone you need to meet,” he told me, a slight smile dispelling his serious expression for a moment.
I was going to ask another of the hundred questions in my head when a voice behind me had me spinning to face its owner in amazement.
“I see we have disturbed you during your morning ablutions, Lestrade. You have whiskers left remaining on your left cheek and there's a dab of shaving foam near your ear.” A handkerchief was flourished at me. “Allow me to offer you this to clean yourself up.”
A familiar smile spread across those sharp features at my silent shock and I scrambled to find my words.
“Holmes! Dear God, it really is Mr Sherlock Holmes, isn't it?” I glanced at the Doc for confirmation and then laughed delightedly, striding across the room to seize his hand and shake it heartily. “Bless me, I never thought to see you again. I can't tell you how delighted I am to see you alive and well.”
Holmes seemed momentarily taken aback by my enthusiasm but he returned my handshake and I could see he was honestly touched by my joy at his resurrection.
“My dear Inspector, I am delighted to see you again and I owe you the most heartfelt apology for my deception.”
I turned to look at the Doc, wanting to ask if he'd known all along, but Mr Holmes, as usual, knew what I was about to ask.
“Ah, Lestrade, don't blame Watson. I assure you until last night he was as much in the dark as you, but he has graciously forgiven me for my mendacity and I do hope that when I have explained myself to you, you will be able to do the same. Alas, I do not have time to tell you everything right now as we have pressing matters to discuss.”
“Mr. Holmes, you owe me nothing. I know you wouldn't have undertaken such a scheme, knowing how your disappearance would grieve your friends, if you didn't have good cause. I'm just glad you're back with us and I'm going to make one of my own deductions now,” I boldly teased him. “Your return has something to do with the monster who is murdering men behind locked doors, the very man Doctor Watson was trying to help me find just yesterday.”
“Brilliant, Lestrade. We'll make a detective of you yet!” I'd long since stopped being offended by Mr Holmes' little digs when I'd realised he only made them against people he truly liked. There weren't that many people you could put in that group and I was honoured to be one of them. “And you could not have chosen a better word to describe the villain, for it is Moriarty himself that you are pursuing and it has been many years since he was human.”
I shuddered, remembering the last case I'd aided Mr. Holmes on where he'd talked of an inhuman villain. At the time I hadn't believed him, but I'd had my eyes opened and the proof laid right before them. “Not another werewolf?”
“Oh, Lestrade. Whenever I think you have absorbed enough of my methods to make your own deductions, you confound me by leaping to conclusions that run contrary to every fragment of evidence. How, pray tell me, could a werewolf kill someone behind a locked door? No, Lestrade, we're hunting something much more deadly, much more cunning than a werewolf. Moriarty is a vampire.”
The line was delivered with his typical dramatic flourish and I had to look for the Doc's reaction to see if it was another of Mr Holmes' little jokes. It wasn't. “You're deadly serious?”
“I am indeed and now we come to the reason you were summoned this morning. An autopsy will prove what I am saying, but I felt that only your discretion would keep the good Doctor and I from languishing in a cell until such a claim could be proved.”
“A cell? You mean there's a vampire in here? You've caught Moriarty?” I looked from one to another, seeing their drawn and serious expressions. “I cannot help you if you won't tell me what the hell is going on!”
Doctor Watson nodded. “I'm sorry. I needed you to hear Holmes' explanation first before I could show you. It's not Moriarty, but one of his minions. Holmes tells me vampires can spread their affliction through an exchange of blood. Some time after she left last night he must have captured Mrs Barker, because when she arrived this morning she tried to kill Holmes. We struggled and he had to kill her. I can attest that she was in no way human, Lestrade – her pallor, her eyes, the fangs, not to mention inhuman strength and stamina, and when I was forced to strike her with a frying pan I watched as her skull began to repair itself before my eyes.” He was looking at the floor as he spoke, clearly horrified by the violence. Knowing the Doc it was the thought of having to strike a woman that had so disturbed him. He's got a real soft spot for the ladies, no matter what station in life they have, and they love him in return. It's like bees around a honey-pot when they encounter him. It's a wonder he hasn't been married ten times over.
“You'd better show me and then I'll call young Hopkins in. Don't worry, I believe you if you say you had no choice. I'll need you to stay with me until the doctor can confirm she wasn't human though. My superintendent gives me a long leash, but I don't think he'd approve of letting the only suspects in a murder disappear into the crowds of London, even if they are the famous Mr Sherlock Holmes and his stalwart assistant, Doctor Watson.” I winked and then gestured to the door. “Lead the way, Doctor Watson, and if you'd be so kind as to find a couple of your street rats for me, Mr Holmes, I'll send some messages to the Yard so we can get the scientists in here to do their magic. The more evidence to back up your story the better, although I don't doubt you could make a murder look like anything you wanted if you set your mind to it.”
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Characters Holmes/Watson, Lestrade
Fandom Sherlock Holmes
Rating 18
SeriesThe Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes
Summary Based around The Empty House but set in a paranormal/steampunk AU. Sherlock returns to England, followed by an old enemy.
Warnings Vampires, explicit sex
Author's Notes Based on a combination of book and Granada TV canon. With thanks to Gil and Fred for the beta and Lucas and Ginny for unreserved encouragement (is it still 'encouragement when it comes with threats and pointy sticks?).
I was in my office trying to manage a quick wash and brush up in the basin my sergeant had provided when the runner arrived. Shaving over a basin at my desk wasn't my idea of fun but it was better than letting the Superintendent catch me with stubble and a wrinkled suit. He liked his men to work long hours, even staying all night like I had done last night, but he thought we needed to keep up a proper image as well, which meant looking smart no matter what. I rolled my eyes at the thought. It was all very well for him to lay down these rules, but I'd never seen him sat at his desk, trying not to get foam on his blotter or slice his face open. The knock on the door made me curse as I damn near cut my own throat, but my snarled 'come in' didn't seem to dent the boy's irrepressible grin in the slightest.
It was one of the Irregulars, the street rats who'd worked for Mr Holmes and now split their time between running his brother's errands and watching over the Doc, not that I thought the Doc had noticed and I wasn't going to be the one to tell him neither. Mr Holmes' over-protectiveness had always rankled with the Doc when the man was still alive; I wasn't going to break it to him that he'd managed to find a way to keep it up from beyond the grave.
As they say, speak of the devil and he'll appear. The message the boy had carried was from the Doc, summoning me to his home immediately. I started to scrabble in my pocket for a coin but the boy just grinned.
“'S all right, guv'nor. The Doctor give me a coin and said to come right back; they was going to need a lot of us today.” He grinned again and ran off, easily avoiding the constable who had showed him up, leaving the lad red-faced as he chased after him.
That sounded bad. I used my shirt to wipe the rest of the foam off my face and quickly put a clean one on, buttoning it up as I hurried through the building. Damn, I knew I should have sent a constable to stand watch outside of the Doc's house. This monster we were hunting who could kill people even though they were safely locked inside their own home was just the type to hold a grudge against the men trying to catch him. I'd thought that yesterday, but I'd let the Doc go home alone anyway. Mr Holmes might have been over-protective, but I'd gone too far the other way. If something had happened the monster would soon learn there was be nowhere in this City he could hide. The Yard would catch him and see him hang or I'd know the reason why not.
I hailed a Hansom and collared young Hopkins to come with me. Identifying myself to the driver I told him there would be a florin in it for him if he made it in less than ten minutes. I could have used one of the steam bone-shakers the Yard had bought, but I was too damn old to let myself get shaken into bits by one of those contraptions. A nice traditional horse-drawn cab would suit me fine. Not that the ride was exactly smooth because of the rush, but it wasn't the tooth-rattling experience a bone-shaker was either, and in my experience horses very rarely explode, which is more than you could say for the bone-shakers or the new fangled horseless omnibuses that were starting to pop up in London.
As we jumped out of the cab the door was flung open and Doctor Watson called my name before glancing warily at Sergeant Hopkins. The fact he was answering his own door instead of letting that battleaxe of a housekeeper do it, spoke again of the urgency that had been present in his message.
“Doctor Watson! I came as soon as I got your message. What the devil is wrong?”
He looked at the sergeant again. “It's not something we can discuss on the doorstep, Lestrade. Come in.” He hesitated. “I'm sorry but this needs to be in confidence for now. Once you have the full facts you have my permission to bring in anyone you need to.”
I nodded and gestured to the sergeant. “Hopkins, stand here and … oh I don't know, guard the door or count the bricks or something. Don't let anyone past you.” Then I followed Watson inside and into his consulting room without a backwards glance. Hopkins is a good lad and won't take offence at being left outside and if the Doc says he needs to talk to me alone then that's good enough for me. I trust his judgement more than any man, save one, and more when it comes to matters that need a level head and good, old fashioned common sense instead of high-flown flights of fancy.
“Right then, tell me what's so important you needed to send one of Holmes' street rats for me?” I asked, trying not to let on that I was being eaten up by my curiosity. It's an occupational hazard, unfortunately. If you don't have it when you join up, you will by the time they put you out to pasture.
“Before I show you why you had to come here, there's a story you need to hear, and someone you need to meet,” he told me, a slight smile dispelling his serious expression for a moment.
I was going to ask another of the hundred questions in my head when a voice behind me had me spinning to face its owner in amazement.
“I see we have disturbed you during your morning ablutions, Lestrade. You have whiskers left remaining on your left cheek and there's a dab of shaving foam near your ear.” A handkerchief was flourished at me. “Allow me to offer you this to clean yourself up.”
A familiar smile spread across those sharp features at my silent shock and I scrambled to find my words.
“Holmes! Dear God, it really is Mr Sherlock Holmes, isn't it?” I glanced at the Doc for confirmation and then laughed delightedly, striding across the room to seize his hand and shake it heartily. “Bless me, I never thought to see you again. I can't tell you how delighted I am to see you alive and well.”
Holmes seemed momentarily taken aback by my enthusiasm but he returned my handshake and I could see he was honestly touched by my joy at his resurrection.
“My dear Inspector, I am delighted to see you again and I owe you the most heartfelt apology for my deception.”
I turned to look at the Doc, wanting to ask if he'd known all along, but Mr Holmes, as usual, knew what I was about to ask.
“Ah, Lestrade, don't blame Watson. I assure you until last night he was as much in the dark as you, but he has graciously forgiven me for my mendacity and I do hope that when I have explained myself to you, you will be able to do the same. Alas, I do not have time to tell you everything right now as we have pressing matters to discuss.”
“Mr. Holmes, you owe me nothing. I know you wouldn't have undertaken such a scheme, knowing how your disappearance would grieve your friends, if you didn't have good cause. I'm just glad you're back with us and I'm going to make one of my own deductions now,” I boldly teased him. “Your return has something to do with the monster who is murdering men behind locked doors, the very man Doctor Watson was trying to help me find just yesterday.”
“Brilliant, Lestrade. We'll make a detective of you yet!” I'd long since stopped being offended by Mr Holmes' little digs when I'd realised he only made them against people he truly liked. There weren't that many people you could put in that group and I was honoured to be one of them. “And you could not have chosen a better word to describe the villain, for it is Moriarty himself that you are pursuing and it has been many years since he was human.”
I shuddered, remembering the last case I'd aided Mr. Holmes on where he'd talked of an inhuman villain. At the time I hadn't believed him, but I'd had my eyes opened and the proof laid right before them. “Not another werewolf?”
“Oh, Lestrade. Whenever I think you have absorbed enough of my methods to make your own deductions, you confound me by leaping to conclusions that run contrary to every fragment of evidence. How, pray tell me, could a werewolf kill someone behind a locked door? No, Lestrade, we're hunting something much more deadly, much more cunning than a werewolf. Moriarty is a vampire.”
The line was delivered with his typical dramatic flourish and I had to look for the Doc's reaction to see if it was another of Mr Holmes' little jokes. It wasn't. “You're deadly serious?”
“I am indeed and now we come to the reason you were summoned this morning. An autopsy will prove what I am saying, but I felt that only your discretion would keep the good Doctor and I from languishing in a cell until such a claim could be proved.”
“A cell? You mean there's a vampire in here? You've caught Moriarty?” I looked from one to another, seeing their drawn and serious expressions. “I cannot help you if you won't tell me what the hell is going on!”
Doctor Watson nodded. “I'm sorry. I needed you to hear Holmes' explanation first before I could show you. It's not Moriarty, but one of his minions. Holmes tells me vampires can spread their affliction through an exchange of blood. Some time after she left last night he must have captured Mrs Barker, because when she arrived this morning she tried to kill Holmes. We struggled and he had to kill her. I can attest that she was in no way human, Lestrade – her pallor, her eyes, the fangs, not to mention inhuman strength and stamina, and when I was forced to strike her with a frying pan I watched as her skull began to repair itself before my eyes.” He was looking at the floor as he spoke, clearly horrified by the violence. Knowing the Doc it was the thought of having to strike a woman that had so disturbed him. He's got a real soft spot for the ladies, no matter what station in life they have, and they love him in return. It's like bees around a honey-pot when they encounter him. It's a wonder he hasn't been married ten times over.
“You'd better show me and then I'll call young Hopkins in. Don't worry, I believe you if you say you had no choice. I'll need you to stay with me until the doctor can confirm she wasn't human though. My superintendent gives me a long leash, but I don't think he'd approve of letting the only suspects in a murder disappear into the crowds of London, even if they are the famous Mr Sherlock Holmes and his stalwart assistant, Doctor Watson.” I winked and then gestured to the door. “Lead the way, Doctor Watson, and if you'd be so kind as to find a couple of your street rats for me, Mr Holmes, I'll send some messages to the Yard so we can get the scientists in here to do their magic. The more evidence to back up your story the better, although I don't doubt you could make a murder look like anything you wanted if you set your mind to it.”
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