Disclaimer
Hello and welcome to the fourth chapter of A single Day and Night of Misfortune
First things first: neither Neverwhere nor Sherlock are mine, I just let their characters do whatever I please because I desperately needed another crossover!
Second: I don't get any money out of this!
Third: Thanks to my wonderful Beta cautiousAlbatross! Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
Sorry for the delay. I realise that it took me a week longer to update something new.
But I am currently kind of employed, so I do not have much time to write anymore.
I will finish this, do not worry, but it may take a little while longer.
Please enjoy this new chapter nonetheless!
A single Day and Night of Misfortune
Chapter 04 - A New Identity
2009 A.D. – London Below, The Citadel of the Angel Islington
The week passed fast.
Almost too fast for Lambeth.
But it was time for him to go back to the Upside.
And with him would come a certain indignant Angel, who hadn't left his citadel in more than 500 years, and was busy complaining about the whole Going-Upside-Business.
'Why can't we stay down here for another day or two? I'm sure your precious Upside can cope for a bit longer, given how amazingly idle you were before we met. And we cannot use the Angelus. It can only be used once. And you passed it already.'
Sighing, Lambeth ran a hand through his hair, his other hand holding the now useless cane.
'First, since we are neither humans nor wanderers we may go through the Angelus as often as we please, you know that, so stop trying to distract me. And second, like you, I have my duties to attend to. But unlike you, I don't have a system that makes my part in carrying them out as good as needless. So, we will step through that door, we will go to my place, I will show you around and you will like it - or at least be thankful for the change of scenery. Can we go now?'
The dark-haired Angel huffed, offended, but stepped up to the doorway and together they pushed open the tall wooden doors.
2009 A.D. – London Above, Camden, The British Museum, Spring
Lambeth didn't like to travel via the Angelus. The tugging feeling behind his navel as he was drawn through the barriers between Above and Below always left him feeling slightly nauseous.
Only a moment later he felt the ground under his feet again. Islington was already busy studying their surroundings.
The Angelus was being kept in one of the conservation rooms beneath the exhibition halls of the British Museum, waiting for its own restoration.
Lambeth knew that the Angelus had passed into the hands of one Mr. Arnold Stockton, a bigwig in communications who apparently owned half of London.
What was to happen to it after the restoration, Lambeth did not know. Maybe it would be displayed in the museum.
Islington was inspecting some instruments displayed on a nearby desk, when Lambeth tapped him on his left arm.
'Come on then. Security may not see us but we don't have to take any chances.'
He walked to the nearby door and tried to open it. It was locked, as expected. But the Angel Westminster had brought a handy gift as he had instructed Lambeth on his plans.
The blond Angel pulled a key out of his trouser pocket. It was nondescript, nothing special.
He inserted the key into the lock and turned it. A click, and the door was open.
As usual guarded from unwanted attention, they made their way through the dark halls of the museum, opening any closed doors they encountered on their way with Westminster's key.
Now and again Islington would shyly pull on the hem of Lambeth's jumper and point out something of interest to him. Lambeth had to admit that it was adorable.
It was still early, not yet 8 am, but the streets were already busy with people going to work or students on their way to University.
Once they were outside, Lambeth stopped and looked at Islington.
'My place is not too far from here. Would you like to walk or should we take a cab? We'll need around 45 minutes if we walk.'
Islington's head kept turning from one side to the other, drinking in every little detail his eyes could catch.
'I would like to walk...please.'
In the few days Lambeth had spend below, he had taught Islington one or two things about proper etiquette. Well, he had coaxed the dark-haired Angel into saying 'please' and 'thank you'.
A small success, but a success nonetheless.
Lambeth nodded his consent and turned right.
'OK. Well, let's go, then.'
And thus they made their way towards Baker Street.
They came by the Royal Academy and the UCH before they passed Park Square West and followed Marylebone Road.
A short time later they stood before a black varnished wooden door, on its surface a golden knocker and the letters '221', also in gold, glimmering in the morning sun.
Lambeth fished another key from the depths of his pockets, unlocked the door and together they stepped inside. Once he closed the door again, he led Islington up two flights of stairs and stepped into the sitting room.
'Well,' he turned towards Islington and gestured at the room, 'welcome to the Citadel of the Angel Lambeth.'
2009 A.D.– London Above, City of Westminster, The Citadel of the Angel Lambeth, Spring
This was...exceptional.
Slowly, Islington stepped farther into the sitting room, taking note of the bull skull wearing headphones on the far wall between two big windows.
He regarded the two different chairs in front of the fireplace, the carpet beneath his shoes and the ugly couch to his right.
This place was a decorative nightmare.
It was the exact opposite to his citadel.
It was perfect!
Like a child in a sweetshop, he inspected every room: the bathroom, the kitchen, the two bedrooms, one empty, only furnished with a double bed and an unused wardrobe, the other clearly lived in, the wardrobe filled with woolly jumpers.
Lambeth's room.
Once back downstairs, he found Lambeth waiting for him in the kitchen, two cups of tea sitting on the table.
'Ok, as you have no doubt observed, the downstairs bedroom will be your territory. I'll remake the bed later today and put on some new sheets. Is there anything else you need? Toothbrush, clothes?'
'No, thank you,' Islington reached for his tea, 'my essentials will arrive within the hour.'
Islington had arranged for his clothes, his violin and so forth to be brought around by Westminster. Since all this had been his brother's idea, he should make himself useful for a change.
Lambeth had lived out of an old weathered duffel bag for the past week, which he was now unpacking in the bathroom, dropping his dirty clothes into the hamper.
By the Heavens, how many jumpers could one person own?!
Islington took another sip from his cup, when suddenly his brother appeared in the sitting room, surrounded by boxes and a violin case in his hand.
'Really, Islington, I do not understand why you should need all this to accommodate you for a stay no longer than a week,' Westminster said, indignantly placing the violin case on the nearby chair.
'Oh, shut up, Westminster,' Islington jumped up and tore into the first box, 'and who says I'm only staying for a week? I'm sure Lambeth wouldn't mind having me here for a bit longer – right, Lambeth?'
The blond Angel was leaning in the doorway, shaking his head in amusement about the chaos in his home.
'Sure, I don't mind, but shouldn't you-'
'No, Islington, one week,' Westminster interrupted, 'you will stay here for exactly one week and then return to your duties for the next week, and so on and so forth. This situation is unique, as it is frowned upon in Heaven. You know guardians are not allowed to leave their domain. Be thankful to have this opportunity.'
Islington felt his heart dropping into his stomach and tried to cover up his pained expression by burying himself deeper into the next box. He just hoped Lambeth couldn't see his face right now.
Westminster cleared his throat.
'With that issue being out of the way, Islington, I have here the file for your human alter-ego information. ID, birth certificate, employment contract, lease agreement, all you need to pass for a normal citizen.'
The dark-haired Angel lunged for the file and flipped through the pages.
'Hmm, yes...yes...fine...the name is acceptable. But the occupation? A coroner? I don't think so.'
Lambeth stood next to Islington and looked over his shoulder. A groan escaped his lips when he read his room-mates new name.
'Westminster, you cannot be serious! I understand that my own name can be kind of common around here, but this? Sherlock Holmes? Really?'
Westminster gave Lambeth a deliberately innocent look.
'I don't know what you are talking about.'
'Yeah, right! Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, living together in 221 B Baker Street. Nothing uncommon about that!'
Lambeth shook his head.
'Listen, you know just as well as me that these two names, together, are bound to raise question wherever we should go.'
'Don't worry, Lambeth,' Islington chipped in, 'Humans are idiots. They will think our or, at least, my supposed parents were just overly eccentric. But, Westminster, a coroner! That is unacceptable. I would rather honour the heritage of my new name and be a consulting detective. Add the needed alterations, please.'
He passed the file back to Westminster, picked up one of the boxes and made his way towards the empty bedroom.
Inside he put the box down and started unpacking. A smile spread on his face as he sorted away his possessions.
He would live here, in London Above, in the City of Westminster, in Baker Street.
He would live here with Lambeth.
He would live here with... his friend.
2009 A.D. – London Above, City of Westminster, The Citadel of the Angel Lambeth, Spring
On the next day Lambeth introduced Islington to their landlady, Mrs. Martha Hudson.
The older woman, constantly dressed in bright, colourful blouses and skirts, instantly fell in love with her new tenant. She caressed his arm and petted his hair whilst telling him that dear John had told her he would look for a room-mate to split the rent.
'And just so you know, Sherlock, I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper. I will not clean up after the two of you. Now, would you like a cookie?'
Over the next week, Lambeth took Islington on a grand tour around London Above.
They ate greasy fish and chips next to the houses of parliament and visited the Tower of London.
Lambeth had to make a little detour that day to visit Old Bailey on the rooftops of Tower Bridge and inquire about any changes in the last few days.
As he had suspected, there had been none.
Further visiting spots were the New Scotland Yard (they actually took a look inside, again invisible to unwanted eyes and ears while Islington kept complaining about the inability of the local force), the East End where Islington quickly was engrossed with the modus operandi of Jack the Ripper (actually a lady of higher birth, jealous of the prostitutes' fertility while she had been born barren herself - which was quite obvious if one only knew to correctly interpret the clues, for Heaven's sake) and a night spent on the top of the Shard, enjoying the lights of London at night.
It was on that night that Islington plucked up his courage, took Lambeth's hand and leaned his head on his friend's left shoulder.
The dark-haired Angel's heart was beating wildly in his chest.
These last two weeks he had found a friend in Lambeth, someone who, though forced into the situation, enjoyed his company and marvelled at his abilities.
Islington never had had a friend before, ever since he had shown weakness after his losing Atlantis.
And now there was Lambeth, hurt and broken like himself, and healing with his presence.
The blond Angel didn't need the cane any more, and the pain in his leg had vanished with the excitement of Islington's company.
The wind caressed their spread wings and a shudder ran through the Angels' bodies. Lambeth's hand tightened around Islington's fingers and he pressed a shy kiss to his dark curls.
Heat rose in Islington's cheeks, anticipation making the hairs on his arms stand up.
Since Lambeth had first stepped through the doors of the Angelus and introduced himself to Islington, the guardian of Below had noticed the looks his friend would sometimes give him. The soft gleam in those deep blue eyes filled with fondness, concern, sometimes exasperation - and attraction.
Lambeth was attracted to Islington.
He felt deeply for Islington.
Maybe even loved Islington.
Uncertainty had confused the dark-haired Angel.
He didn't know how to react to such attention.
Though his own feelings for the guardian of Above had grown and filled his heart and mind with wild hopes and dreams of a companionship deeper and more intimate than at present, he feared for their friendship should he have misinterpreted the signs.
The wildly spinning thoughts in his mind stopped abruptly, when he felt Lambeth's hand touch his cheek and turn his face.
For a moment he saw only deep blue eyes dark with emotion and next he felt soft lips lightly press against his own.
The world stopped spinning.
At first it was just light pressure of flesh against flesh.
Then Lambeth pulled back and looked into Islington's eyes.
'Okay?' he asked, voice quivering uncertainly.
Islington could not speak.
His body shook with tension and all he could do was nod and lean forward to press his mouth against the wonderfully soft flesh again and again.
He felt hands run through his hair and tilt his head and he moaned as Lambeth deepened the kiss, moving his lips against Islington's and pressing his tongue against his own.
Islington's hand caressed the blond Angel's arms and shoulders. He pressed himself closer to the body next to him and they both groaned when they felt their wings touch.
The two Angels parted and breathed heavily, leaning their foreheads together and looking into each other's eyes.
Lambeth brought his fingers to Islington's cheek, and touched the corner of his mouth with a thumb.
He smiled.
'You are amazing,' he whispered against Islington's mouth, as if one loud sound could break this moment.
Islington sighed, took Lambeth's free hand in his own and squeezed it.
'You are fantastic,' he breathed into his friends mouth, and silenced any reply with another kiss.
Thanks for reading!
I hope you enjoyed it.
Due to future contents I upgraded the story from T to M, just in case.
As usual, R & R, as feedback is always welcome ^^
And please feel inspired to write more SherlockxNeverwhere crossovers XD
Until next time!
Moehre89