Chapter 12: Speak With the Devil~
"Sherlock Holmes, I presume. " says a voice, with practiced tone.
"Come,Sebastian, I would think the heir to the Throne would be well above presumption."
"Very well, who else could you be?"
"Good, now we know each other...So,let's just skip to business." Sherlock said, leaning against the palm again, a smile of dark delight on his face.
John was panting, nervous now, imagining that a conversation like this had happened with Moriarty , and lead up to the Fall. Guessing correctly ,as we know...
"We need no introduction, it appears." Sebastian chuckled, almost cordially over his end.
"I chatted with your lady friends last night..." Sherlock said, skipping to the point.
"I know that."
"Well, I believe they ,at least,need some introduction. I know that you are sworn to Loki's creed. As are your lady friends, whom you rescued from Milverton's brothel, and whom you swore to the creed yourself. What I am confused about is why some of them were allowed to keep their hair,and a some 15 were shaven bald, with the red hand tattooed on the back of their skulls?"
"Well that's easy ,Holmes. The red hand is the symbol of bloodshed amongst the creed. They are only allowed to keep their womanly locks, until they have killed a man in a manly way. Then they become my apprentices, and I shave them, and I brand them, and they become slaves to the Blood Trade."
"Blood Trade?"
"Haven't you heard? Murder is a business in this end of the world..."
"Murder is a work of art, a prime evil art, but nevertheless a form of creativity. Anyone who would mass-market art is cheap, and frankly boring."
"Art is a poor business, you know that. I need other ways to eat, so what is the harm in doing business in the field I love? And murder is rich ,Sherlock...filthy rich..."
"You are a sorry excuse for an Heir. You've sold your life's ambition for profit, you are no more than a whore to the bosses."
Mycroft was mouthing , hard enough that maybe it was supersonic screaming: "HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU ,DO NOT OFFEND THE ENEMY?!"
Sherlock sneered at him, and kept on talking, "And the most tragic part of the whole thing is how good you are at your wicked art. Sholto's Boys? That was masterpiece. Reese Weatherford? That was more like tick tack toe...What ARE you doing with yourself, Sebastian?"
" Are you interested in joining me ,Sherlock?"
" When Hell freezes solid. No, I'm interested as to your motive. First off, why Denmark? Doesn't seem like the ideal location for a pirate in the renaissance of the trade, to chilly this end, I was thinking the South Seas were more of the romantic and more remote of hide aways for the King of the Beasts?"
"Well, you know nothing of sentiment,though, do you? Denmark is my home. It is where my brethren are. It is where my sisters gather, at the grave of Milverton, who finally paid his penance to me in full."
"Mmmm...you killed him?"
"Shouldn't the Greatest Detective of All Time be above presumption?"
"Yes, thank you. I do not presume. You killed him. Enjoyed it, savored his every dying breath. Gave him to your whores, and they did what they did best. Was just like Guy Fawkes day, I don't know what the police did about it..."
"Ah, right ,you meddled...As always...This next round should be amusing, my nymph..."
"You are the Chief Executive now of a massive criminal enterprise. The Madame of the brothels of selling criminal genius to the criminal machine...There will be no amusement, nor Game of cloak and dagger, nor skillful duel between you and I. I am not a whore, like you, because my cause is pure from the outset, the marriage to my Work, is wed to justice itself, and is thus undefiled. Unless you reform, and play the music according to the written stanza, then there will be no glory in the end of your career. No legend for you;you're only the lackey in the end..."
"Now I see you through. Not so subtle, are you Holmes, honest to a vault, forever the Virgin! But in the end I am Hamlet the Prince of Denmark, and you are no more than our wretched ghost!"
"A plain answer ,Moran. I only deal in facts and science, leave Shakespeare in the theatre. I have figured you out...you have been called to atone for your sin against Sholto, and you have come to clean the blood off of your hands, to bury John Watson,and Sholto himself, and drive me mad as the Hatter, and make Mycroft Holmes the whore to your Machine. Your plan is brute, a Viking conquest in an age of reason. Where is the art in this, sweet prince?"
"Proof that you are a machine, you cannot see the beauty of the natural world. Dear little Sherlock, my nymph, my Midsummer's Night dreamer! By wanting to prove everything clever, you have, once again, made it all too easy! The brutality of my plan is what makes it art. The glorious demise I plan for you...to destroy you piece by piece,and so have my clear revenge! The one that called me to atone for my sin against Sholto's boys was you, silly child! Oh sweet Sherlock, so lost you are. Gone so softly into my dark night, tangled in my Web unbeknownst, and become my own Macbeth! Pure poetry ,Sherlock!
Sherlock nodded, "Ah, so this is an elaborate vendetta! All the details of which, are meant for your own vindication. So the death of Milverton is to guarantee the involvement of your Valkyrie, the good villain needs his audience, who better than a whole passel of damsels in distress? The burning of the hospital, the visits in the night, the murder of Weatherford...all insurance that you could lure me in again. Lure in everything and everyone I love...to make me die beyond the body, and burn beyond my soul. To kill my mind, and all my legacy die with me."
"Oh bless you Sherlock! You are more beautiful than you have any idea! The fault in our stars it seems is that our brilliance needed an audience. And that audience must suffer. I needed virgins to sacrifice, and now I have them. You have lead your lambs to slaughter, and now our feast can begin. And we will bathe the gods in blood, and put an end to the SIS our once cruel master, the machine of justice...Justice too is artwork, how are you better than I? Hypocrite, bloody pig...And a fool, in the end, Sherlock the Idiot..."
"So you plan a betrayal for your Valkyrie? What's your motive there?"
"One last elaborate murder, to give me a name forever. Virgins to burn, along with you Sherlock, guides to your damnation. I mean to betray them ,to sacrifice them, to savagely murder them where the police will find them. Don't you see, they are only collateral damage to our problem, a puzzle you couldn't solve,innocent young girls you could not save. Innocent lives that trusted me,and will die for no reason, save only that I am bored,and ready to end this, and you have kept me waiting...a God-awfully long time. In the end I am Hamlet the Dark Prince of Denmark. You are the ghost that would not stay entombed, the Laertes that will die at the end, but not before you witness the final act, and the Valkyrie are Ophelia...Collateral damage."
"What of the others?"
"Oh, you mean your friends? They are Horatio, they will watch you die, or they will die themselves...You will be the one to determine this."
"You want me to solve my own murder?"
"No, I want you to plot it."
"I think we should meet in person."
"You want me to swear to you ,Ghost? To make bargains with the dead?"
"No I want you to challenge me. And either you bury me, or I you, or we bury each other and shake hands in hell. But if harm comes to any one of the lives we have discussed, then God help you. Hell will be as happy a city as Copenhagen, for you to escape to from the nightmares I will cause you."
Then Sherlock hung up in Sebastian Moran's head, and smiled at his gaping friends.
"He took the bait...Now we need only wait for him, I promise you we will see him, pasty drama mask, and floating King Leer cape, and all...The man's a total imbecile, and a waste of criminal talent. I've had better cases from street thugs with crowbars..."Sherlock rolled his eyes, and went to the counter, to order himself something for supper.
The others exchanged nervous glances,stricken utterly speechless by Sherlock Holmes.