A Visit From The Past
Part Four
Mass Effect x BBC Sherlock Crossover Fanfiction
Written by AseniaKarana (subaruchan192) and mythlover20
The fight with the Reapers is going badly, and Shepard needs help. Luckily Mordin has been bored, and has invented something very, very, unusual, and previously thought impossible: A TIME MACHINE! So Shepard uses it to recruit the one man who could make sense of the wasteland of the Prothean Data Cashes when the Shadow Broker failed. Plus his friend, and maybe a few others she did not intend to bring along.
Part Four of subaruchan192's and my BBC Sherlock and Mass Effect crossover fanfiction. Wherein Shepard does her very best to explain the situation to the trio while simultaneously trying to get plastard; Sherlock and Mycroft are their usual superior arses; and John gets stuck trying to mediate, as usual.
Shame Mary isn't here to calm him down. Or Molly for Sherlock that matter, cause Oh. My. God. That bloody snog! It's about time, Sherlock! (No, I don't care that it was just a fantasy, it still counts!) I don't know about you, but I am terrified for Episode 3. Moffat and Gatiss, please don't hurt Molly!
Four hours later…
*The Kodiak lands softly in the shuttle bay, the docking clamps holding it secure as the Normandy jumps through the Mass Relay. The shuttle's hatch opens and Shepard, Garrus, and Thane step out, bloody and weary. Immediately the three head towards the armoury, relieving themselves of their weapons. Garrus and Thane automatically start cleaning their weapons, but Shepard just places hers before Thane, and whispers in his ear. He nods, and smiles at her. She gently rubs his arm, then heads to the elevator, steps in and presses the button for her cabin. The instant the doors close she starts releasing the clamps on her armour, ignoring the patches of raw skin where the medi-gel had healed minor wounds. By the time she reaches the Loft her arms and legs are bare. She deposits the soiled armour in a corner of her bathroom, removes the rest, and steps under the shower. The instant she's clean, dry and dressed she heads back down to the medical bay. The door slides open, and Garrus appears. She smiles at him as they pass each other.*
Shepard: *Stops just inside the door, and looks purposefully at Chakwas.*
Chakwas: *Shrugs.*
Shepard: *Activates her omnitool.* Mordin?
Mordin: Yes, Shepard?
Shepard: Where are you?
Mordin: In lab. Test results negative! Experiment a failure!
Shepard: *Sighs. Rolls her eyes at Chakwas when the doctor scans her with her omnitool.* Where are our guests?
Mordin: One with me. Others under guard in Port Observation.
Shepard: *Frowns at Chakwas again when the doctor goes to a cabinet and retrieves an injection.* Meet me there in two minutes. Bring your friend with you.
Mordin: Not my friend, but will comply.
*Shepard sighs, and allows Chakwas to give her the injection.* Did I do the right thing bringing them here?
Chakwas: *Disposes of the needle and empty serum bottle.* I can't answer that, Commander.
Shepard: *Sighs again.* Of course you can't. Garrus and Thane?
Chakwas: Are as well as can be expected. Thane should be resting, now. Keep him there, or he'll end up back in Huerta again.
Shepard: *Nods.* Will do.
*Shepard leaves the medical bay, and heads towards Port Observation. She ducks her head into Life Support as she passes. Thane sits in the middle of the room, meditating. Shepard smiles, and continues on to Port Observation. The door for the Lounge opens. Immediately to the right sit the two strange humans, a very large bottle of very rare scotch sitting half empty between them. Shepard coughs. The two jump, and turn to look at her.*
Shepard: That was my scotch!
Mycroft: You have stolen us from our homes. Your scotch is the least of your concerns.
Shepard: But that scotch was rare and expensive! *Sighs and rubs her brow.* Nevermind. Just ask next time.
Mycroft: *Smiles.* Of course.
*Shepard moves behind the bar and turns to face Mycroft and John, surreptitiously moving the scotch from their reach. The doors open a moment later, and Mordin and Sherlock arrive.*
Sherlock: *Walks in in a daze, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.*
John: *Raises an eybrow.* Interesting stuff?
Sherlock: *Blinks. Answers a bit too quickly.* What? Oh, hmm... yes, yes.
Shepard: Good. Now that everyone's here, I'll start explaining again. *Gestures towards the bar stools.* Have a seat.
*Sherlock sits next to John. Mordin stands with Shepard behind the bar.*
Shepard: *Pours a tumbler of scotch. Brings the glass to her lips and throws her head back, drinking the liquid in one gulp. She pours another glass.* Right. What has Mordin told you so far?
John: Your... friend...
Shepard: *Interrupts.* Mordin.
John: Right... Mordin... He showed us the Reapers.
Shepard: *Blinks.* You did what, Mordin?
Mordin: *Shrugs.* Thought it would be appropriate.
Shepard: *Groans. Swallows her second glass of scotch, then pours another.* Right. Would have preferred to break it to them gently, but what's done is done.
Mycroft: The alien said that you would explain.
Shepard: His name is Mordin.
Mycroft: Of course it is – in English. How are we able understand him?
EDI: I am translating for you.
Sherlock: Then why am I not hearing the… Mordin's… native tongue as well as your translation?
EDI: I am also employing noise-cancelling technology.
John: *Murmurs.* That makes no sense.
Sherlock: Right. Who are you?
Shepard: She is the ship's Virtual Intelligence, and she is not your concern.
Mycroft: *Frowns.* Not our concern? Now that's suspicious.
*Shepard glares at Mycroft, staring him into silence, before taking another drink. She immediately goes to pour another glass. Mordin pulls the bottle from her hand and places back under the counter. Shepard glares at Mordin. Mordin stares back. Shepard shrugs.*
John: *Throws Sherlock a glance, silently commenting on the interactions between the two.*
Sherlock: *Rolls his eyes.*
Shepard: If I may have your attention. This is a difficult matter and you will need to concentrate.
Sherlock: * Rests his elbows on the bar and tents his fingers, resting them under his chin. Sarcastically.* Oh, do please continue.
Shepard: *Rolls her eyes.* Right. So, as I tried to explain earlier, the Reapers arrive in this galaxy every 50, 000 years or so, and they destroy every civilisation they deem technologically advanced enough.
John: Why?
Sherlock: What do you mean by "advanced enough?"
Shepard: *Looks at Sherlock with tired eyes.* Honestly? We have no bloody idea. All we know is that any species that has developed a technologically-advanced civilisation is targeted, and they've been doing it for millions of years. New species, new cultures, every time. Completely destroyed. Not a single survivor left behind.
John: *Pales, and swallows heavily.* No one?
Sherlock: Humans existed 50, 000 years ago.
Shepard: Yeah, but we didn't have a civilisation back then. We were merely animals, barely sapient at all. There was nothing to destroy. Now though…
John: Now?
Shepard: You have seen what they're able to do. This is just a small attack, but Dekuuna will fall within three hours.
Mordin: You abandoned Dekuuna, Shepard?
Shepard: *Looks wearily at him.* We did what we could to evacuate as many as possible, Mordin, but even the Normandy is just one ship.
Mordin: How many dead?
Shepard: …*sighs*Dekuuna is rather small, so just over a billion.
Mordin: That's half the population.
Shepard: I know.
John: *Takes a deep breath, but is much calmer now* What about Earth?
Shepard: Under attack. Lots of people dead, but we're still somewhat able to resist.
*Silence reigns for some time.*
John: Why would anyone want this?
Shepard: I talked to their Harbinger once. He said: "We are your salvation through destruction..."
John: That's… frightening.
Shepard: They mean it. They destroyed almost the entire Batarian species when they arrived from the Orcus Cloud. That was barely a few months ago.
Mycroft/Sherlock: Interesting…
John: Interesting? Interesting? *Shakes his head in disbelief.* You are insane.
Sherlock: You're just getting that now?
Shepard: *Sighs, and coughs again.*
Mycroft: *Rolls his eyes, wearing his typical belaboured expression.* Your… alien friend…
Mordin: *Begins to sound a bit disgusted.* It's Mordin.
Sherlock: *Smiles, and takes a sip of his scotch.*
Mycroft: *Clears his throat.* Fine. Mordin said that you had discovered the Reaper threat three years ago.
Shepard: *Nods slightly.* That is correct.
Mycroft: Why hadn't you prepared yourselves for the invasion?
Shepard: *Sighs deeply.* I tried, but no one believed me.
John: *Frowns.* No one believed you? How can anyone doubt… *Looks out of the window - they had already left the system.* Well… you know.
Shepard: There was no proof of their existence in the beginning. The council races especially thought they were at the top of evolutionary ladder. To accept that a species more advanced than us all would suddenly arise from the dark, destroy us all and then vanish to wherever they came from… that is always hard to believe.
Sherlock: So what started it all, then?
Shepard: *Sighs, long and loud.* It started with a rogue Spectre.
John: What is a Spectre?
Shepard: Special Tactics and Reconnaissance… They're… agents of the Galactic council.
John: Spies?
Shepard: Sort of. They are authorised to do anything, to break whatever rules necessary, to guarantee galactic peace and stability. Under council authority, of course.
Mycroft: You are one of these… Spectres, I take it.
Shepard: *Opens her mouth to answer.*
Mordin: Shepard was first human Spectre.
Shepard: Yeah... thanks Mordin. You know that I don't like it when you do that. *Rolls her eyes and sighs deeply.* I just did what was necessary.
Sherlock: You're above law? Allowed to do anything you want? So long as the ends justify the means, I suppose.
Shepard: Um... within reason, yes.
Sherlock: *Smiles secretively.* Oh, I like that.
John: *Looks at Sherlock, unsure of his tone.* You'd like to keep galactic peace?
Sherlock: Oh, no. That's just a bad side effect.
Mycroft/John: ...
Mordin: *Glares at Sherlock.* Spectres are important. Best of the best, big task. Never underestimate need for galactic peace.
Sherlock: *Snorts.*
Mycroft: *Stares reprimanding at his brother, but addresses Shepard.* I thought Spectres were above the law. How could one become rogue?
Shepard: It's the Council's decision. They decide if a spectre's actions contradict their purpose and threaten the peace. Normally, something really bad must happen before the Council will do anything. As far as I know, Saren was the first, and the last.
Mordin: Spectres normally never became rogue. Too big an honour, too great the opportunity.
Shepard: *Her face darkens.* Yes. Even Saren did not want to become a rogue.
Mordin: No, no, but he did. Did not know what he was dealing with.
Shepard: How could he have known? His intentions were good, even though he had always been harsh, and enjoyed using violence.
Sherlock: He did not want to become a rogue? *Leans forwards, curious.* How is that possible?
Shepard: He had found a Reaper called Sovereign, but, never having heard of Reapers before, he thought it was just an ancient battle ship. By the time he realised Sovereign was more than that it was already too late, and the greatest power the Reapers possessed had hit him with all its might.
John: There's something more dangerous than those beams?
Shepard: *Takes a deep breath.* Oh, yes... because you're hit by it just by being in in their presence too long. Even their technology does it. It hits you silently; you never realise it. They creep in, playing with your mind, with your brain. They indoctrinate you; they control you. You still think that you're yourself, but you lost yourself long time ago. In the end, you don't even think that anymore.
Sherlock: *Frowns.* They can manipulate someone's brain activity?
Shepard: *Nods.* Sovereign commanded Saren to find the Conduit. That was why he attacked the human colony on Eden Prime, and that was when I got involved.
Mycroft: What was the Conduit?
Mordin: A miniature mass relay...
Shepard: A mass relay is the device that facilitates interstellar travel, by the way.
Mordin: One was disguised aboard Citadel: seat of galactic government.
Shepard: Saren used a second conduit on an abandoned planet to gain back door access to the Citadel. He tried to introduce a virus into the station's mainframe, one that would undo the last cycle's sabotage which prevented the Reapers from entering the galaxy directly through the Citadel. We stopped him, but...
John: But what?
Shepard: But no one wanted to believe that Saren's ship was a Reaper. The government covered it up, and claimed the Citadel Invasion was all Saren.
Sherlock: Yes...that is what governments do best. *Glares at Mycroft.*
Mycroft: *Rolls his eyes.*
John: Saren's ship, it was a Reaper?
Mordin: Yes. Soverign: vanguard of invading fleet.
Sherlock: So where did he get a Reaper?
Shepard: *Shrugs.* I don't know.
Mycroft: *Raises an eyebrow.* You don't know?!
Shepard: *Shakes her head.* No. Saren disappeared for a while, years ago. I believe Anderson said something about Saren discovering tech from before the last cycle, and his investigating whatever it was. It seems plausible, because when Saren came back he was indoctrinated, and he had Soverign in tow.
Sherlock: You keep referring to "the last cycle?" What do you mean by it?
Shepard: Oh, yes, right. I forgot that you do not know the big mystery and legend of the Prothean's disappearance 50.000 years ago.
John: Protheans? *Closes his eyes, and groans.* Merdin? Would you pass me that bottle, please? I think I'm going to need another drink.
Sherlock: No need for that John. They were obviously a race that existed the last time the Reapers invaded.
Mordin: Correct, and it's Mordin.
Shepard: *Frowns, smiling in derision.* That's new: no one has managed to make Mordin angry before.
Sherlock: Not my concern.
Shepard: You do realise he is the one who controls your way home?
Sherlock: Whom.
Shepard: What?
Sherlock: Mordin is the one whom controls our path home. You are speaking English, are you not, or is your translation program in need of a patch?
Shepard: *Blinks, a little shocked by his behaviour.* What…?
Mycroft: *Sighs heavily, and interrupts.* Discretion, Sherlock.
Sherlock: *Opens his mouth to speak.*
John: Not now, Sherlock.
Sherlock: *Glares at John, but complies.*
Shepard and Mordin: *Study again the relationship dynamic between the three.*
Shepard: Right. Where was I?
Mycroft: Saren, Soverign, Protheans, and this so called "cycle."
Shepard: *Coughs.* Right.
Mycroft: So, why are they doing this?
Shepard: I've told you: we don't know. They say they give the life time to develop, but then they destroy every superior race. *Sighs.*
John: Do they want to give minor species a chance?
Mordin: Possible, but not yet determined. Reapers don't speak much.
Shepard: Truth be told, I was the only one who ever talked to one of them.
Sherlock: So you said. Do get to the point.
Shepard: To the point? I am trying to explain…
Sherlock: And so far you have blustered and blabbered, and not told us anything of use. Get to the point!
Shepard: *Sighs deeply, and throws a questioning glance at Mordin.*
Mordin: *Tilts his head and blinks.*
John: *Sighs.* Sherlock…
Shepard: Okay, fine, the other way around, then. What do you want to know?
Sherlock: How to get home. I had experiments running.
Shepard: I am afraid that is not possible.
Mycroft: No? Your own statements infer that it is indeed possible, as does our very presence here in the first place.
Shepard: *Shakes her head.* That is not what I meant. It is possible, but only after this war is over. We needed to convert dark energy into electric energy, and I don't believe we can gather such a large amount again, not with our limited resources.
Mordin: No, very unlikely.
John: So we're stuck?
Shepard: *Nods.*
John: *Falls back in his chair, and rubs his eyebrows.* Bloody hell…
Shepard: I am sorry, but we had no choice. There are no other options.
Mycroft: You're losing, then.
Shepard: *Sighs deeply again, doesn't realise Mycroft's was a rhetorical question. Nods.* Yes, we are. You've seen how superior they are.
John: *Sighs despondently and continues rubbing his forehead, a headache building behind his eyes.* Yes, unfortunately.
Mycroft: Obviously. Do continue, Ms…
Shepard: Commander.
Mycroft: Yes, *sneers,* "Commander." Do try and keep it brief.
Mordin: *Shifts his weight, and folds his arms. Glares at the three men across the bar.*
Shepard: *Sighs, exasperated.* Fine. So, Saren and Sovereign managed to return to the Citadel. Saren's virus counteracted the Prothean virus, which returned the Citadel to its active Relay status. I, along with my squad, fought Saren on the ground, while the combined force of the galactic fleets eventually took out Sovereign. Most of our ships were destroyed in the process, though we managed to save our leaders. One Reaper Scout, and the combined death toll from the attack numbered in the hundreds of thousands. With me so far?
Sherlock: *Murmurs, but otherwise doesn't indicate that he is paying attention.*
Mycroft: *Glares at Shepard with a practiced, elusive expression, one which sends shivers down Shepard's spine.*
John: *Leans on the bar, resting his head in his hand. Swallows thickly and sighs.*
Shepard: *Pays close attention to John, and instantly understands what he is going through. It is a complication she was not expecting. Takes a deep breath and continues.* Anyway, afterwards we were all rewarded with the usual meaningless pomp and ceremony, and then thrown into some backwater assignment while the government covered everything up. Get us out of the way, and all that. While we were combing the edges of Council space for Geth remnants, the SSV Normandy SR1 was destroyed.
John: *Looks up and frowns.* I thought this was the Normandy.
Shepard: This is the Normandy SR2. The SR1 was torn in half by a beam similar to the Reapers', got caught in the gravity of a nearby planet, and along with a large percentage of my crew, is currently lying in the frozen wastes of Alchera.
Sherlock: Yet you got out.
Shepard: *Opens her mouth to speak, then thinks better of it.* Ye-es. I did.
Sherlock and Mycroft: *Raise an eyebrow at her hesitant answer, but don't comment for now.*
Shepard: I was… in bad shape. The Alliance declared me dead, but I ended up in a… coma, for nearly two years.
Sherlock: Then who saved you?
John: What do you mean 'who saved her?' She was obviously in an escape pod, or something. *Turns to Shepard for a second.* Do you even have escape pods?
Shepard: *Nods.*
Sherlock: No, she wasn't. She must have been retrieved from orbit, presumably suffering from severe oxygen deprivation.
Shepard: *Raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms.* How do you figure?
Sherlock: *Raises an eyebrow in return, and grits his teeth.* You said your Alliance declared you dead. Assuming this previous Normandy was an Alliance vessel – and everything you have said till now implies it was - if you were on an escape shuttle you would have been tracked and your body examined. If you were dead you would have been processed and buried. Yet, here you are. So either your Alliance is even more incompetent than the Secret Service, which is doubtful because we would not have survived in a galactic society if it were, or someone else saved you. So who was it?
Shepard: *Sighs, shifting her weight uncomfortably.* I ended up in Cerberus hands. They're basically a human-supremacist terrorist organisation, sort of like the Klu Klux Klan or the KGB, even the Nazis to an extent.
John: *Sits up straight, studying Shepard much more closely.*
Mycroft: You willingly associated with them?
Shepard: *Shrugs.* It wasn't willingly: I had no choice. I would have been lying under twenty feet of snow by now if they hadn't gotten to me. *Grows noticeably angry, gritting her teeth.* Unfortunately for all, the Council had done a thorough job whitewashing the whole Sovereign incident. Cerberus was the only one who was willing to do anything about the Reapers. The rest of the galaxy, *waves an arm,* was too busy burying their heads up their arses to do a God-damned thing about it.
Sherlock: So you said.
John: But how could you survive such an attack?
Shepard: *Shrugs.* No idea. *Sighs deeply, almost regretfully.* I just did.
Mycroft: Who attacked you?
Shepard: A foreign, little-known species called the Collectors.
John: *Frowns.* "Collectors?" What do they collect?
Shepard: Life. We thought they were slave traders, but they were barely seen by anyone. They came, took their prey and disappeared. Sometimes they even used other species to capture their targets for them. Rumour said they lived behind the Omega-4 Mass relay, but no one knew what lay behind that relay, because no one ever had returned.
Mycroft: Why are you using the past tense?
Shepard: Because we defeated them, but it's all interconnected. I'll get to it later.
Mycroft: *Leans back, scotch in hand.* Then go on.
Shepard: Right, so, at the point where I woke from the coma, the Collectors were attacking human colonies all over the galaxy. *Shivers at the memory.* It was like something out of a bad horror movie. When I investigated a colony that had just been attacked, it was like... it was like they all just got up and left: no blood or corpses, nor any other signs of violence.
Sherlock: How do you know they did not simply walk away?
Shepard: We found a quarian who managed to hide himself. He recorded the security footage. Anyway, after returning from the colony, we began to chase the Collectors in earnest. This was also when I recruited most of my crew. That's how I met Thane and Mordin, for example. *Smiles affectionately at Mordin.*
Mordin: *Returns the smile.*
Shepard: We gathered allies, brokered alliances, investigated the enemy as best we could, given their illusive nature and our lack of resources. Cerberus only gave me this ship and a skeleton crew to operate it. Almost everyone and everything else I had to find or do myself, including upgrading this ship, which was itself an upgrade of the original Normandy.
Sherlock: The point, Commander.
Shepard: *Glares at Sherlock.* The point, Sir Holmes, is that we eventually discovered a way to attack the Collector homeworld beyond the Omega-4 relay. We travelled through, relatively safely, to the edge of the galactic core, to find ourselves in a giant ship graveyard with the Collector space station – their homeworld – right in front of us. We fought off their scout ship, the one that managed to destroy the original Normandy, and boarded the station. We rescued those we could, including my own crew, who had been taken by the Collectors while I was on a mission. In the end we found out that the human colonists who had been taken were being… melted down… processed into a human soup and their liquid remains forced through feeding tubes to a Reaper… embryo, of sorts. A human Reaper.
John: A human Reaper? Meaning… a Reaper who looked like a human?
Shepard: *Swallows and shivers.* Yeah, exactly. It was just the top half of a skeleton, but it was still alive enough to almost kill us. In the end I had to blow up the entire station to kill it, but kill it we did.
Mycroft: So how did these… Reapers… get here?
Shepard: I was getting to that. *Bends down and grabs the scotch again. Straightens and pours herself another glass, ignoring Mordin's disapproving yet sympathetic gaze. She drinks slowly.* I, uh… got word of a Reaper artefact found by an Alliance scientist. She, and her team, turned out to be indoctrinated. But her facility was situated in the system that the Reapers had planned to use to re-enter the galaxy, since the Citadel was now unavailable to them. I… I crashed an asteroid into the Relay, and blew it up. But the explosion destroyed the entire system. That system was inhabited. Hundreds of thousands of aliens died. I was stripped of my commission, my rank, was dishonourably discharged and tried as a war criminal to placate the Batarian Hegemony. This was eight months ago. It was futile, of course. Nearly the entire Batarian species was extinguished barely a couple of months after this when the Reapers found a new Relay to use. I was released and placed back in charge of the Normandy when the Reapers made it to Earth. Since then we've been gathering intelligence, running evacuations, carrying out diplomatic missions… everything we can to get the force we need to fight. *Tosses her head back, downing the last of the scotch in one swallow. Slams the glass back on the bar.* Even now, even though the galaxy is falling apart around them, those fucking politicians are still fighting each other over old grudges.
Sherlock: *Tents his hands under his chin and leans on the bar.* Why did these Collectors help the Reapers? Did they hope to be spared from the genocide?
Shepard: *Shakes her head.* No, nothing like that.
Sherlock: What then? No one does something without an incentive. Why did they help them?
Shepard: *Closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She hesitates, not wanting to tell them. Her fingers itch for the scotch bottle. Mordin glares warningly at her. She sighs.* Because the Collectors...were modified Protheans.
*The three human men stare at her, shocked speechless.*
John: *Became paler, his eyes wide. Coughs, clearing his throat.* They... they were the species... which was harvested during the last cycle?
Shepard: *Nods* There wasn't anything left of who they were anymore. Their DNA had been rewritten, turning them into mindless drones, and then they had cybernetic controls implanted. At least that's what Cerberus post-mortems were able to determine. We assume that is what "harvest" means. They collect the various species and… repurpose them. On Manea...we have seen Reaper forms that looked like turians, or a combination of turians and krogans.
Mycroft: So they develop by appropriating other species' achievements?
Shepard: Maybe. They… We don't know why they do so, but they turn the fallen into their… infantry.
John: Do... do they… transform humans?
Shepard: *Sighs deeply, throwing John a sad and tired look.* Yes...we call them husks. When we first discovered them, we didn't know what they were. We thought it must have been technology that Saren had developed together with the Geth. *Briefly closes her eyes.* They are made... *Pauses, and takes a deep breath.* To make them, humans are impaled on gigantic stakes and infested with Reaper tech. Then they turn into husks.
John: Jesus...
Mycroft: What did the government do to stop this?
Sherlock: *Snorts.* You heard, brother. They did what the government does best: nothing.
Mycroft: *Glares at his brother, but silent.*
Shepard: After Earth was attacked, Admirals Anderson and Hackett sent me to the Council to ask for help.
Sherlock: Which you obviously didn't get.
Shepard: Not really, no. It is frustrating...*Sighs deeply, and runs a hand through her hair.* I asked for help, but the Salarians and Asari refuse because they're looking after their own borders. The Turian Primarch, who is just one level above us, *points at the ceiling,* offered us help.
John: But…?
Shepard: *sighs* It's politics: it's never that easy or simple. He said the Turians, the race with the strongest military force in the galaxy, would help us if we got the Krogans to help them on Menae.
John: *Frowns.* Where is the problem?
Mycroft: Alliances are never easy, John, especially not during war time. Everyone only thinks of themselves.
Shepard: *sighs* He is right, but it's even worse than that. The Krogans hate the Turians. I mean truly despise them.
Mordin: Wrex is on Tuchanka. There might be a chance.
Shepard: That's true.
John: Wrex?
Shepard: One of my squad mates from the Saren mission. *She sighs.* To summarise: to defend Earth, I need the turians, but I won't get the turians if I don't convince the krogans to help them defend their homeworld, Palaven. But the krogans hate the turians more than anyone else, well except the salarians, and they will likely demand a hefty and impossible price for their help, one both the turians and salarians will vehemently object to. *She rubs her eyebrows.* I am sick of this. I am not a politician, but I have to be one. While the whole galaxy is about to fall apart, most species are just resting on their laurels. The council hadn't wanted to see the situation, and now they all rely on me and my crew to fix everything. I have to unite the whole galaxy, just because they were too stupid and lazy to prepare when they had the chance. *Leans back against the bar, the bottles clinking warningly behind her.*
Sherlock: *Snorts.* And I'm here to help you broker alliances? You haven't researched very well. If you had, you would kno...
Shepard: I did not bring you here to do that, Mr. Holmes. I brought you here to help with the Crucible.
Sherlock: *Snorts, his words incredibly sarcastic.* Oh, let me guess, some super-secret super-weapon that is going to magically make everything all better.
Shepard: *Stares at Sherlock with contempt.* As a matter of fact...
Sherlock: It won't work.
Mordin: *Crosses his arms across his chest.*
Shepard: Maybe not, but it's the only thing we've got, and we need you to help make it work.
Sherlock: You definitely didn't do your research, if you believe I would be of any use. I'm a detective, not a bloody mechanical engineer.
Shepard: You are more than that. You are a scientist, with a wide range of knowledge, not just in chemistry and forensics, but almost everything else as well. You are one of the most brilliant minds in human history. Your deductive skills, the way you draw patterns, the way you instantly determining fact from fiction, could be very useful. You may be able to see what we overlook, because we rely on too much on our modern technology.
Joker: Oh my God, I can't believe I heard that. Did Shepard just praise someone?
Shepard: *Growls. Looks to the ceiling and shouts.* Joker!
Joker: *Giggles.* Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Shepard: EDI, why did you let him do that?
EDI: I was not aware I was to censor communications, Commander.
Shepard: Don't push me, EDI.
EDI: Such an action would require a physical form, Commander.
Shepard: *Sighs* Joker, from now, on keep your mouth shut.
Joker: *Doesn't respond.*
Shepard: That's better. *Turns back to Sherlock, who is glaring at her.* What?
Sherlock: *Sneers* Did you honestly just tell me you need someone more primitive than you to solve your problems?
Shepard: *Takes a deep breath and sighs, gritting her teeth.* Yes, because all our technology is useless against the Reapers. All we have is the Crucible, a weapon developed by the Protheans, and they weren't able to finish it. It is our last hope, but we know neither how it works, nor if it will work. So, we need alternatives. Our sciences are far too militarised.
Sherlock: Logic would dictate that such sciences would be the most effective.
Shepard: *Crosses her arms and rests back on a hip.* And we are being slaughtered, so clearly something needs to change, and the Reapers aren't going to abandon such a successful method of mass genocide, are they?
John: Sherlock, *rests a hand on his arm,* we have no other choice. If we want to go home...
Sherlock: *Shrugs him off.* And I hate being forced to do anything, especially when it is not my job! *Growls and fixes an angry gaze on Shepard.*
Shepard: I thought it would be an interesting task for you. The possibilities of our technology seem to excite you and the Reapers are an opponent beyond compare.
Mycroft: But they are not intelligent.
Shepard: They are more intelligent than anyone else. What they can do is beyond any comparison. We are running out of resources and possibilities. I offer you the most advanced methods you will ever get to use, Mr. Holmes, and an opponent that will require all of your intelligence to defeat. You want a crime? How about the genocide of the entire galaxy, and if that's not enough, we have whole species fighting against each other, mercenaries, pirates, slavers…
Sherlock: That is war, not crime.
Shepard: War is just the ultimate level of crime.
Sherlock: I don't enter matters until after the fact. That is the very nature of my job.
Shepard: Are you honestly telling me that you wouldn't step in to stop a crime if you could?
Sherlock: *Crosses his arms and glares at Shepard.* I suggest you direct your concerns to my brother. He is more suited to your needs. *Stands and walks away from Shepard and the others, towards one of the lounges. Sits and stares silently out the window.*
Shepard: *Blinks, aghast.* But... did he just...?
John: *Sighs.* Sherlock?
Sherlock: *Doesn't answer.*
John: *Speaks louder.* Sherlock!
Sherlock: *Continues to ignore everyone, his eyes glazed over.*
John: *Turns back to the bar.* Oh, bloody hell. *Looks up at Shepard and Mordin.* He'll do it.
Shepard/Mordin: *Blink.* What? He will?
Mycroft: My brother would prefer to believe he had a choice in the matter. *Raises his scotch glass in a mock toast.* Congratulations, Commander. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.
Shepard/Mordin: *Exchange a slightly worried look.*
Mycroft: If you don't mind, I am tired. Where am I to sleep?
Shepard: Yes, sure. Just a moment. *Opens her omnitool and sends Thane a quick message.*
Garrus: *Walks in, reading a data pad. Looks up.* Commander, I've reported the fall of Dekuuna to the Council, but they want to speak to you in person.
Shepard: *Closes her eyes and groans.* Of course they do.
Garrus: They are worried that the Repears are too close to Inner Council space. Dekuuna is just one jump away.
Shepard: Yes, I know. *Sighs.* Okay. *Looks up.* Joker, set a course for the Citadel.
Joker: Aye, Commander.
Shepard: *Turns to Garrus.* Would you lead Mr. Mycroft Holmes to his room, please? Life support.
Garrus: Yes, of course. *Turns to Mycroft.* If you would follow me?
Mycroft: *Nods, and stands.*
Garrus: *Leads Mycroft out and to Life Support.*
Shepard: *Sighs. She is going to hate this, but she moves to Sherlock, standing next to him.* All you see here is in danger of being destroyed. We cannot stop them. But maybe you could. *She looks at Sherlock, and takes a deep breath.* Mr. Sherlock Holmes, will you please help us?
Sherlock: *Continues staring out the window.*
Shepard: *Sighs, and starts moving away.*
Sherlock: *Speaks quietly.* These Protheans... I assume they left evidence.
Shepard: *Turns back to him, frowning slightly.* Some... not enough.
Sherlock: Have you been able to decipher any of it?
Shepard: Lots. The Mars Archives were where we found the Crucible plans. Before Cerberus deleted them. The Archives, that is. Most of what was there would likely have been lost.
Sherlock: You don't know?
Shepard: We were barely able to get Liara - our resident Prothean expert - off Mars before the Reapers took complete control of the system.
Sherlock: Very well. It's a place to start. I will need equipment, of course: internet access, computers, a lab, a complete record of all findings and all translated data available.
Shepard: Of course. We will be fitting you with omnitools and translator chips in the morning, after you've slept.
Sherlock: I slept two days ago. Do it now.
Shepard: *Blinks.* What?
John: *Sighs, taking another drink.* Better do what he asks. When he is on a case he does not eat, or sleep. *Snorts.* The body's just transport, after all.
Shepard: Um... well... alright. Give me a minute. *Activates her omnitool.* Cortez?
Steve: Yes, ma'am?
Shepard: Bring two...*blinks, and pauses for an instant,*… no, better make it three omnitools with integrated translator chips up to Port Observatory.
Steve: Yes, ma'am. *The line goes dead.*
Shepard: *Takes a deep breath and turns to Mordin.* Mordin, would you mind staying here with them and explaining our technology? You are the best person for that, after all.
Mordin: Of course, Shepard. My Job.
Shepard: *Smiles.* Thank you.
John: *Looks at her closely. He is very interested in Shepard's behaviour and her interactions with her crew.*
Shepard: Mordin is one of the best geneticists and general scientists in our galaxy, but if there is something he cannot explain, then just ask EDI. She will be able to analyse scenarios, trawl through the entire extranet- our extended galactic version of your internet- or anything like that.
EDI: Just ask your questions and I'll do what I can.
Joker: Which is quite a lot.
Shepard: Joker!
Joker: Sorry, Commander, but it is true.
Shepard: *Wants to say something about his "relationship" With the Normandy, but stays quiet: it could be too creepy for the new guests.*
John: *Leans back in his stool and exhales loudly.* Wow...
Shepard: *Sits down beside him.* I can imagine that this is overwhelming. I wish I could slow down, and give you a chance to adjust, but we are running out of time.
John: *Nods, his eyes glazed over, focusing on a point far away.*
Cortez: *Enters the room.* Ma'am.
Shepard: Cortez. *Turns to Cortez and holds out a hand for the omnitools. Smiles softly.* Thank you. Dismissed.
Cortez: Ma'am. *Nods and leaves.*
Shepard: *Nods towards Mordin, who takes one of the omnitools from her. Stands and moves back to Sherlock.* Give me your arm.
Sherlock: *Doesn't answer, just continues to stare out the window, frowning.*
Shepard: *Sighs and grabs Sherlock's left arm.*
Sherlock: *Blinks out of his trance and fights against her.*
Shepard: *Is too strong for him. She clamps the omnitool on his wrist, and then throws his arm away. Shakes her head at his behaviour. Looks towards Mordin, who had already fastened the omnitool around John's wrist, and was quietly explaining the basic functions of the device to the slightly befuddled man.*
Sherlock: *Frowns, and pokes at the metal band around his wrist, trying to pull it off.* What is this?
Shepard: *Sighs and rolls her eyes.* Weren't you listening? I said it's an omnitool.
John: *Looks up at her.* He does that sometimes. Delves into his mind and doesn't come out for hours. He isn't aware of anything that happens around him.
Shepard: *Sighs. It was a good idea to bring Dr. Watson here, too.*
John: He is just structuring the information he's received. *Taps something on the omnitool, trying to control it.*
Shepard: Mr Holmes, I should probably explain...
Sherlock: I will figure out on my own. *Moves away from Shepard.*
Shepard: *Stands there. And I thought Jack was exhausting. Rubs her brow.*
John: *Looks back up from his omnitool. Smiles sympathetically at Shepard.* You really should have thought twice about bringing us here. Not many people are able to handle Sherlock.
Shepard: *Shakes her head, muttering to herself. Looks up at John.* I truly am sorry, Captain Watson. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
John: *Frowns.* Yes, I was sure you would say that. *Sighs deeply and looks back down at the omnitool, its holographic panel now bathing his arm in an orange glow. Murmurs.* I'm not dreaming, am I?
Shepard: *Sympathetically.* I'm afraid not.
John: *Rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.* I was afraid you would say that. *Takes a deep breath and pulls his hand away. He stares at his slightly-shaking appendage. Sighs deeply.* Can I assume that there are details on galactic culture I can study?
Shepard: *Nods.* You will be able to access it all from your omnitool. Mordin will show you how.
John: *Sighs, and yawns.*
Shepard: *Smiles slightly.* We have had cots moved into the Starboard Observation. You will be able to rest there.
John: *Blinks and looks back up.* Thank you, Commander.
Shepard: *Smiles and pats him on the shoulder.* Mordin will take you over when you feel ready for it. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to call the Council. *Grumbles.*
John: *Looks up.* Good luck.
Shepard: Yeah, I really need it. *Laughs and smiles.* I'll see you tomorrow. *Leaves the room with a nod.*
*John sighs and turns back to Mordin while Sherlock sits on the couch, the two men now trying to adjust to their new change in circumstance, and the troubles it was already bringing.*
EOC.
leaving John behind, who is still sitting on the couch with Mordin, listening to his explanaitions, while Sherlock is trying it on his own* she sees Thane coming out of the Life Support to make room for Mycroft* (smiles at him*
Thane: *respondes her gaze and smiles, then nods to her, going with her to elevator, he heading for Shepard's room, she for the communicative room)
Shepard: *silently leans against thane while the elevator moves, her head resting on his shoulder. Thane rests his cheek on his forehead until just before the doors open. they straighten, and Shepard steps out, not looking behind her when the doors close. she walks past the damaged security checkpoint and intot he war room, past the Primarch and into the communications room. instructs the lieutenant to dial the citadel. the three council members appear. stands at attention* Councillors.
Udina: At ease, Commander.
Shepard: *stands at ease*
Asari Councillor: We have recieved your reports on Dekuna.
Shepard: Yes, Councillor.
Salarian Councillor: You must understand the situation, Commander. Dekuna is only one Relay jump away from Inner Council Space. Your failure to halt the Reapers...
Shepard: My failure? I only have one ship, Councillor.
Udina: *holds a hand* What the Commander is trying to say is that the loss of Dekuna is regretable, but given the circumstances it is hardly unexpected.
Asari Councillor: Nonetheless, the loss of another homeworld is a devestating blow to Council forces. How many citizens escaped?
Shepard: Approximately 500 million.
Turian Councillor: That's 500 million citizens who have no where to go. Our resources are already stretched to the limit. We can't accept any more refugees.
Shepard: They're already on route to other colonies. Refugees will not be a problem, Councillors.
Salarian Councillor: None the less, we cannot afford to lose anymore homeworlds.
Shepard: Then help me. Give me more ships and resources and maybe I will be able to find a way to help your sorry arses.
Udina: What she means is...
Salarian: We know exactly what the Commander means, and her insolence has gone far enough.
Udina: The Commander is doing the best she can. Earth is under attack, too.
Asari Councillor: And so is Palavan, and the Reapers are already destroying worlds on the edge of asari space. I'm sorry, Commander, we can not help you more than we already can. We must tend to our own borders before we can help you save Earth. Goodbye, Commander. *Asari Councillor's hologram disappears*
Salarian: You have a summit to host, Commander. I suggest you act quickly, or it may prove too late. *Salarian Countillor's hologram disappears*
Turian Councillor: *nods and his hologram disappears*
Udina: *sighs heavily* How badly damaged was the Normandy?
Shepard: Minimal.
Udina: *sighs again* Return to the Citadel to have the repairs done. Can't let the Normandy fall into disrepair.
Shepard: *raises an eyebrow at his patronising tone* Yes, Councillor.
Udina: Shepard. *nods and disappears*