Chapter II: Labs
The Almighty Disclaimer
Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson
Oh Henson and Doyle,
And Pika-la Cynique the generous,
To you belongs all the characters
And none so for me!
A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth…" by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.
TW: Suicide attempt.
Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist. If you or someone you love is having suicidal thoughts, please contact help.
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It did not matter what the place was called. There were dozens like it in just Great Britain alone. If the citizens of the Queen really knew what was being studied in those laboratories…
Well, that was what Mycroft was for. He made sure the commonwealth never knew.
"And that's the end of our tour," the young corporal said as he tried to direct Mycroft back towards the elevator.
"No, it isn't," Mycroft said.
"Of course it is. This is the last level," the corporal said.
"Take me to the basement," Mycroft said.
"That's just the bins, sir," the corporal said.
Mycroft tapped his umbrella against the floor twice before speaking. "Corporal, if you lie to me one more time, you will never be able to do so again. I was sent here for a full examination. This is not Baskerville. My orders are to be taken as the Word of God. Am I understood?"
The soldier gulped. "Yes, sir."
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"As you can see, sir, we have a very small magic division. I thought you wouldn't want to see something so insignificant," the corporal said.
Mycroft inwardly agreed with the corporal. Some gremlins, fairies, brownies, etc. Nothing of real interest.
"The only larger creature we have is a goblin. Don't know why it's classified as goblin though. Looks to be more of a Fae," the soldier said as he opened the slit of a door to show Mr. Holmes the resident goblin.
Mycroft peered into the brightly lit room. There was a low bed with what looked like a blonde man huddled in the corner.
"Are you sure it is a goblin?" Mycroft asked.
"Course, sir. You can talk to one of the researchers if you like."
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"The goblin? Just waiting for it to die. We have done all the research we can on it. Nothing left of it besides a beating heart, really," said the scientist, "Here's the file anyway."
Mycroft looked at the name, raised an eyebrow, but continued on his read. Removed from power because of a runner. Gave a piece of Fae fruit. Sarah Williams. Apparently he was romantically attached to her but it was not returned. Brother to the High Queen of the Seelie Court. Etc. Etc. Do not directly kill but do not try to let him live.
"He's been in here for two years?" Mycroft asked.
"Yes," the scientist said, "He should have died a few months in, or at least stopped talking. We eventually got to telepathic testing which we really haven't been able to do that often. He stopped talking about a month ago."
"May I see him?" Mycroft asked.
"Sure. The iron cuffs keep him docile, even when he was fully cognate"
Mycroft was brought into Jareth's cell. Holmes knelt down in front of archenemy.
"Hello, Goblin King. Well, you're not the Goblin King anymore, are you? I never imagined that someone who had such power over me as a child could be brought down like this. Why are you still hanging on? You should have died months ago. Why are you still here?"
Jareth showed no response.
"You don't even recognize me, do you? Such a pity. You had such a great mind. Better than Sherlock's, though I think given time we both could rival you. Good-bye," Mycroft stood up and began walking towards the door.
"Pixie dust and pirates," Jareth mumbled.
Mycroft turned around. "What did you say?"
Jareth tried to raise his head but was too weak. He looked up at Mycroft with life in his eyes. "Pixie dust and pirates."
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"This is by far the stupidest thing I have ever done," Mycroft grumbled as he half-led, half-carried Jareth into his home.
They made it mostly intact to one of the many guest rooms. Jareth collapsed on the bed and Mycroft sat wearily in a chair.
"You are a lucky goblin," Mycroft said, "Be glad I have enough power to have gotten you out of there."
Jareth was silent.
"Are you dead?"
"No," Jareth said silently.
Mycroft leaned forward in his seat. "Are you hungry?"
"No."
"Thirsty?"
"No."
"Tired?"
"No."
"What do you want then?
"My name," Jareth said.
"You don't remember?"
Jareth pointed to his head. "It's all wrong. Nothing works anymore."
Mycroft sighed and leaned back in his chair. "According to your files, your name is Jareth, no last name given. What do you remember?"
Jareth turned and faced the wall. "Pixie dust. Pirates. Things. Sounds. Images. Nothing is right."
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For the next three days, Jareth said nothing. He ate nothing. He drank only hot water with honey. Mycroft was having difficulties contacting Jareth's family without alerting the High Court.
"I have a sister. She would sing to me when I was young," Jareth said on the fourth day while Mycroft made breakfast.
"Good. You remember something. What else do you remember?" Mycroft said.
"I don't like burned porridge, so keep an eye on the pot. I want some," Jareth said.
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Slowly, Jareth began remembering more and more of his life over the next few days. He knew he had a nephew and niece. The High King hated him. The Goblin Kingdom used to be Jareth's. He even began to remember Sarah.
"Pale green eyes," Jareth said to Mycroft, "Defiant. Observant. Innocent. She has the most amazing eyes I have ever seen."
"What else do you remember?" Mycroft asked warily as he poured Jareth a glass of whiskey. He was uncertain as to how Jareth would feel towards the woman he lost his kingdom over.
Jareth shrugged. "It is all… mixed up still in my head. She looked for wonders like a child does but with an adult's understanding. I am having problems remember her voice… but I know it is wonderful. I want to remember how we met. Do you think she is looking for me? The girl I loved?"
"I know your family worries about you," Mycroft said, trying to casually steer the conversation away from Sarah Williams.
"I can't wait to see them all," Jareth said with a smile, "I think I'll go look at the stars tonight."
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Mycroft was awoken that night by the sound of things breaking. He grabbed an umbrella on his way down to the main floor. Jareth sat in the middle of the now trashed sun room.
"What happened?" Mycroft asked.
"She rejected me," Jareth said with unearthly calm.
"Who did?"
"The girl. She rejected me. I offered her EVERYTHING and she rejected me. You knew didn't you?"
"I was aware that you worked very hard to have her accept you and that it did not work out."
"I will show her the cruelty she has shown me. Defiant brat."
Mycroft said calmly, "But what is her name?"
Jareth stilled his breathing for a moment before saying, "Give me time. Soon, I will show her what happens to those who defy me."
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After Jareth's outburst, the goblin had little improvement in his memory over the next two weeks. He was trying to figure out ways to destroy the girl, but his mind was having difficulty making coherent thoughts.
One evening, Jareth was eating a small slice of peach pie when his hands started shaking.
"What's the matter?" Mycroft asked.
"That's why, isn't it? Why she rejected me? I gave her… Fae fruit. I drugged her. I tried to force her to stay with me. That's why… that's why she rejected me. I hurt her. I tried to take away her free will. Why? I would never truly have her that way."
"I don't know, Jareth. You never stated why you did it in your trial," Mycroft said.
Jareth shoved the food away and rested his head on the table. "I can never be forgiven by her. I should never be forgiven by her."
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Mycroft held a bed sheet that had been made into a noose in his hands. After Jareth's revelation the week before, his mind had begun deteriorating again. He was having difficulties remember Mycroft's name along with other lapses.
"Why did you make this?" Mycroft asked.
"I can't even remember my family's names," Jareth said, "I abandoned them for my own wants. I sacrificed the safety of my kingdom for my unhealthy desires. Why shouldn't I die?"
"Because your family fought for you to live. In less than eleven years' time, you will be considered redeemed for your sins as a king. The girl has never wanted vengeance against you. There is music to be played. Books to be read. Desserts to eat."
Jareth laughed at the last one.
"No person can make another person live. It is our own responsibility to live and no one else's. There was some reason why you were fighting to live in the labs. There has to still be a reason."
Jareth spoke softly. "I had other siblings besides my sister. They died. It's just the two of us now. I didn't want her to be alone."
"You remember your sister?"
"Not much, but enough to know what she loves me." Jareth ruffled his hair. "What do you live for, Mycroft?"
Mr. Holmes was quiet for several moments. "I have certain skills that I have honed over the years. Those skills protect others who can do greater things. I may not leave anything like a sonnet, a building, or a song, but I can make it so others can."
Jareth nodded. "That is certainly a reason to live."
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Three days later, Mycroft heard the piano playing in the music room. He found that odd since Jareth was having problems remembering scales, let alone entire songs. When he entered the room, Mycroft found the Goblin King and Jareth sitting together at the piano bench while several goblins were sitting around them.
When the song finish, Jareth said, "Mycroft Holmes, this is my niece, the Goblin King, Christiana Rossetti."
Christiana turned and smiled at Mycroft. "My uncle finally remembered the right words to call upon me."
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Jareth had rapid improvements and was frequently visited by his niece and nephew over the next month. It was two months after Jareth was released from the labs when an unexpected visitor came to Mycroft's home. Sherlock was sitting in the sun room, facing towards the door.
"What are you doing here?" Mycroft said.
"Holiday," Sherlock said, "And when I say holiday, I mean that I was tired of listening to lecturers who knew less than I did then when, say, I was wished away to the goblins."
Jareth leaned forward in his chair and showed himself. "Yes, isn't it nice for your brother to visit? We were just discussing piracy."
It is my worst nightmare come true. The two of them are going to make my life Hell if they work together. I have to get Jareth a flat some place where Sherlock cannot find him. Maybe in London. Surely in a place so large they would not run into each other there.
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A/N: Sorry for the amount of chapters I am posting. I was sick for several days and had massive writer's block on this chapter.
