A/N: Alright, I tried to make the pacing as fast as possible to go along with the swiftness of the actual scene, but I didn't do too great -_- For those familiar with Jekyll, I replaced Benjamin with Baskerville, Jackman with Sherlock, and Eddie with Molly. Please be gentle with your flames! :D
"Majesty."
Sherlock instinctively dropped the phone on the dusty ground of the zoo. Moments ago, he had been talking to John, then the rumbling baritone had invaded.
The detective stood next to the lion's pen, staring at his phone as though it was a fierce snake that might try to lash out at him. He crept forwards, scooping it up.
"How can you be phoning me?" Sherlock demanded.
"I'm not phoning you, I'm in your head." Smaug rumbled. Sherlock took the phone from his ear, and gazed at the lions, who prowled through the worn grass of their pen and roared.
"Keep the phone at your ear!" Smaug chided. "Or people will think we're schitzo."
"What, schitzo, do you think?" Sherlock growled, anger rising in him. "I've just taken a call from my own head!"
The detective turned in a circle absently, not noticing the three men who were watching him carefully from a little ways off, on the other side of a chain-link gate.
"Why aren't you asleep?" Sherlock asked, sitting on the bench.
"There's something in our bloodstream keeping me awake," Smaug sounded mystified. "Something new. A drug. Ooh, tickles!"
"You can feel your blood?" Sherlock asked incredulously.
"You can't do that?" Smaug sounded like he might be frowning.
"Who drugged us?" Sherlock demanded.
"That's not why I called." Smaug growled.
"You had a reason?" Sherlock said, tightening his grip on the phone.
"I'm your dark side." Smaug rumbled. "It's not like we chat."
An image suddenly flashed in front of Sherlock's eyes—three tall men in black.
"What was that?" The detective demanded.
"Pulled it from your memory." Smaug said. "Who are those guys?"
"Which guys?" Sherlock asked.
"Those guys." The image flashed again—a huge, broad-shouldered man in a dark suit.
"How do you do that?!" Sherlock demanded.
"You can't do that?!" Smaug said incredulously. Sherlock envisioned the men again.
"They're following me," The black-haired detective realized.
"Not you." Smaug rumbled.
Sherlock saw the men, and then…a rather short, brown-haired woman. The same one he had visited the zoo with.
"Molly!" He gasped.
"Yes," Smaug hissed. Sherlock heard Molly's voice, crying out.
"You said he was dead! You told me that was what happened!" She cried. "Sherlock! SHERLOCK!"
"Stop doing that!" Sherlock fairly shouted "Stop it with the voice!"
"Sherlock!"
"I have stopped." Smaug growled.
"Sherlock! Help me, Sherlock!" Molly cried again. The detective slowly turned, looking into the lion's pen. There, in the middle of the worn grass, was his pathologist. Her eyes were full of terror, and she was unable to keep the whimpers of fear from escaping her as the huge male lion regarded her.
Sherlock looked about wildly for help, but the zoo had suddenly become deserted.
"Molly?" He managed.
"Sherlock, help me!" She squeaked.
"Molly, stay there! Don't move!" Sherlock ordered, putting his phone away. Molly had lowered herself instinctively, though she was trembling all over as the lion roared not four yards from her. Sherlock ran to the chain-link gate, and gripped it as he shouted at the black-clad men.
"My Molly's in there! She's in there with the lions, we've got to get her out!" He yelled. The men ignored him.
"My Molly's in there! Please, you've got to help!" Sherlock cried desperately. The big broad-shouldered man turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Wh—wh—what do you want?!" Sherlock shouted, rattling the gate. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"Me." Smaug rumbled, as Sherlock turned to try and save Molly himself. "They want me."
Sherlock whirled, and slammed against the fence again.
"Alright, take me, take him, take Smaug, whatever you want, just get my Molly out of there!" He shouted.
"At least they took the mousy one," Smaug commented. "That shows consideration."
"Molly!" Sherlock cried desperately, whirling and racing to the edge of the lion's pen. The pathologist was trembling so hard she could hardly stand, as Sherlock bounded up onto the fence. The pen border was about fifteen feet high, with small squares of wire that were not designed to be climbed on. Sherlock tore off his Belstaff, tossing it aside and trying to climb in just his black shirt and trousers.
"Molly! It's alright, Molly!" He cried, pure, primal fear and desperation coursing through his veins as he clamored up the fence. The lion circled, growling and roaring as it decided whether or not to kill Molly.
"Sherlock, hurry!" Molly shouted, shifting in small circles to keep the lion as far from herself as possible. Sherlock hauled himself to the top, feet scrabbling against the metal as the lion roared and prepared to lunge. Adrenaline coursed through the detective's veins like fire as Molly backed away from the king of beasts.
The lion was mere meters away from the pathologist, when a black blur hit the ground in front of her. She jumped back with a yelp, as a primal roar sounded, and Sherlock—at least, it used to be Sherlock—bared his teeth, mouth open impossibly wide to vent his fury at the beast.
Outside, the broad-shouldered man raced towards a black van, flinging open the back door and clamoring in, as the feral roars continued to echo from the lion's den.
"Has he changed?" Demanded one of two other people in the van. The broad-shouldered man shook his head.
"I don't know, Mr. Baskerville!" He reported.
"I take total responsibility for any mistakes today, which means I fire everybody!" Henry Baskerville shouted. "You said this would work Christopher, has he changed?!"
Before Christopher could answer, there was a massive thud, like something heavy landing on the roof of the van.
"What in blazes was that?" Demanded Baskerville. Christopher looked out the back, and swore quietly. A tan, furry tail hung down from the roof.
The three climbed out, the sight eliciting several oaths as they beheld the body of the male lion splayed on the roof of the van.
"Okay," Baskerville said, "I'm going out on a limb here. He's changed."
The man frowned as song floated from the lion's pen.
"What's he doing?" Christopher wondered, as the lyrics reached their ears.
"In the jungle, the mighty jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight,
In the jungle, the quiet jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight…"
"He just threw a lion over a wall," Baskerville reminded him. "Anything he wants. Give it up for a gutsy song choice."
"There's a note!" The third assistant noticed. "There's a note on the lion!"
Baskerville noted the piece of paper wedged between the beast's toes.
"Well?" He demanded. The assistant glanced at him fearfully.
"Get the note from the lion!" Baskerville ordered. The assistant reached up and swiftly snatched the paper from the beast, who he feared might not be completely dead.
"It's for you!" He said.
"Me?" Demanded Baskerville.
"'Dear Henry, meet me in the lion's den.'" He read.
"You can't be serious," Christopher snorted.
"He just sent a note with a dead lion. How much more serious do you get?" Henry grumbled.
"'P.S. Alone.'" The assistant read.
"Well," Christopher said, "I've got several clear lines of sight. I'll get my best shots on him."
"Don't kill him." Baskerville ordered. "Or me. In that order."
Five minutes later, Baskerville nervously opened the metal door and crouched nervously. Smaug was standing with his back to the man on top of the lion's den, while the beasts prowled the ground. Molly had her back pressed to the fence, as far away from the lions—and Smaug—as possible.
Smaug sensed Baskerville's presence, and swung round. His normally combed-back hair was falling in his face, giving him a terrifying look as his amber eyes sparkled through it. Baskerville noted with a chill the blood that soaked Smaug's jaw and neck.
"Ever killed anyone, Henry?" He rumbled, a slight smile on his face.
"Not personally," Henry admitted. "I have people."
"You're missing out," Smaug grinned. "It's like courtship, only there's a winner. Thought you might be here somewhere; do come in."
Henry glanced nervously at the lions, then smiled at Smaug.
"Know what?" He called. "I'm doing fine just here."
"You a bit nervous, Henry?" Smaug inquired, spinning in a circle on his heel.
"Nope, no, not nervous," Henry lied. "Just a little, uh, lion-aware."
"It's not nice to turn down someone's hospitality, Henry," Smaug chided. "I've got my pride."
He snapped his fingers, and the roaring and growling of the lions ceased. The beasts settled comfortably.
"You can control them?" Henry asked in amazement.
"They're just lions! Can't you?" Smaug replied.
Henry stepped tentatively out of the doorway, and slowly stood, watching the lions the whole time, but aside from the odd flick of the tail, none of them moved. He glanced nervously over to where Molly was still standing, silent, with her back pressed to the fence.
"Girl seems a little freaked," He noted.
"Yes, what can you do? Somebody tried to feed her to a lion." Smaug smiled, staring pointedly at Baskerville.
"Yeah, sorry about that," Henry tried to sound sheepish. "It was just an experiment."
The smile faded from Smaug's face, and his pupils dilated to tiny slits.
"A what."
"We wanted to precipitate the change." Henry explained. Smaug's expression remained hard as steel. "According to our understanding, placing a loved one in danger, especially the primal kind of danger—the threat of a savage beast—would create exactly the right chemical conditions to bring us—well, you."
"Why should I care of the girl's in danger?" Smaug asked. "Have you seen how mousy she is?"
"Well, you did just save her life," Henry reminded him.
"No!" Smaug snapped. Then a savage grin spread across his face. "I killed a lion. There's a difference."
Henry shuffled nervously, keep one eye on the lions at all times.
"We know more about your condition than anyone else on earth. Will you help us find out more?" He inquired. Smaug quirked an eyebrow.
"What if I say no?"
"People don't say no to us, Smaug." Baskerville smiled. "Not even you. I mean, sure, you can kill a lion with your bare hands, but when it really comes down to it, we can buy the whole zoo."
Smaug regarded Baskerville coldly, not answering.
"Give me an answer, Smaug." Henry ordered.
Outside, Christopher looked up as another thud shook the vehicle. As the assistant flung open the doors, he spoke into the microphone.
"We've got a man down, Mr. Baskerville is on the roof—"
Before he could finish, something impossibly strong hauled the assistant upwards.
"That's not me on the roof!" Baskerville shouted, as Smaug leaped from the top of the van to grin at Christopher. He slammed the doors in his face, locking the man in.
"Start her up, we're getting out of here!" Christopher shouted at the driver. Before the driver could do anything, the driver's side door was yanked open, and the man wrenched from the vehicle by his shirt front.
"Sorry, Christopher!" Smaug exclaimed, swinging himself into the driver's seat. "Looks like your luck's run out!"
Christopher charged with a yell, but Smaug's fist cracked across his jaw, knocking him out cold.
"My King wants a word with you." Smaug rumbled, before slamming the car door and gunning the engines.