Author's note: Most of the dialogue lines between James and Helen's rooftop scene are taken from the Tempest episode. That dialogue, along with the characters, belong to the show's writers. The rest of the stuff here is mine.
Tempest in a Teapot
Chapter 14: Dining with the Ripper
Cocking his head to the side, James gave him a knowing look. "Yes, but you have no such qualms about the timeline, have you?" He narrowed his eyes slightly as he awaited Druitt's reply.
"Humph," accompanied by a shrug with his only reply. He continued to eat and watch the man across from him.
"I would imagine you would much like to change your future," Watson threw out, deciding to tackle the conversation from a different angle.
Nodding in acknowledgment, John confessed that he would indeed prefer to change his timeline. "That's part of the reason I'm here now. What she told you about the situation with Adam?"
"Just a bare scratch on the surface. I was told specifically, and I quote, 'No questions about the future, near or distant,'" James repeated, doing so in a higher pitched, uppity tone.
John laughed softly at his imitation of haughty Helen. She could be rather superior when she felt the person she was addressing was of lesser intelligence or was behaving in a manner with which she disagreed. Helen did so enjoy being in the right. Lowering both of his hands onto the table to lay down the silverware, he let out a deep breath then proceeded to tell James about his two deals with the devil.
As he finished his tale, he finally dared look over at Watson, who sat back in his chair with a totally shocked look across his face. John had left out any details of his and Helen's argument in Hollow Earth. "I know, not the smartest move on my part. But at the time it seemed like a good idea."
"I can see why Helen would not be happy to see you right now," Watson intoned dryly.
John frowned and his shoulders drooped. "I know. I was an idiot." He picked up his silverware and resumed eating.
A few minutes of silence passed between them. James, starring off at the fire, softly queried, "So, it was the Source Blood that induced the insanity?" He thought about how soft spoken and gentle John had been before the injection and the violent man he had become afterwards.
"No," John answered back just as softly, "it was just the conduit through which I was imprisoned."
Turning back to Druitt, James looked at him with both eyebrows raised. That was a most odd answer. Yet he felt that it was a very important and telling one.
John did not elaborate. Though he desperately wanted to tell his former best friend the truth about the energy elemental, there was little James could have done with the truth in this era. And if Helen ever found out all that the two men had discussed together she might very well follow through with her threat to kill him permanently. Druitt figured he'd just blame Watson's brilliant deductive reasoning abilities if necessary.
He leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the hard wood and looked up at the ceiling. "I should have killed the little weasel when I had the chance."
James reached forward and took a large swig of wine, emptying his glass. "You should have killed him the first time, never mind the second time." He held up the bottle and tipped it slightly towards John, who held his glass out as Watson refilled it.
"I honestly believed him to be dead. He was bleeding heavily and near drowned." He stared intently at Watson. "That first death was very important to us."
Sniffing his wine, Watson cautiously asked, "How so?"
"Adam's death, the first one, establishes the future for us all… The Five." At James's searching look, John shook his head. "No, I'm not going to tell you why. You will find out why in a few years time and your sanctuaries will benefit from it." Smirking, he pointed his glass at his old friend before adding, "You do not need to know everything, Snoopy Pants."
James groaned. "I take exception with that nickname. I am not snoopy. I just like to know everything… and I usually do," he replied back, wearing his own little smirk.
"Snoopy Pants," John repeated, then raised his eyebrows in amusement at the way James pursed his lips in distaste. "Don't take it so personally. I have called Tesla far worse names."
"And how is the old pompous windbag," James asked, drawing a chuckle from Druitt.
"Still an arrogant git who believes himself to be descended from the gods." He saw James register acknowledgement that Nikola, like Helen and John, was still alive in the far future. "He is a vampire, as he so likes to remind us all," John rolled his eyes. "Believe me, if he was easier to kill I'd have done it years ago. The old puffed up bat."
James chortled in laughter, leading John to do the same. Neither man had been overly fond of Tesla. They appreciated his intelligence and wit, but the Serbian's exaggerated self importance grated to no end.
"And what would Helen think of such an action?" James questioned in a teasing tone. "She's rather fond of him, as I recall."
John grinned. "Oh, she'd get her knickers in a royal twist and shoot me if I ever truly succeeded in killing Count Vlad."
"She is rather fond of shooting you, old boy," James observed and gave him a smug grin. "I can't imagine why."
"She's just as fond of shooting Tesla," he replied dryly. "My pointing out to her that she is overly fond of shooting people never goes over very well. She just replies that she's going to find a bigger gun." Both men burst out laughing at that. Helen did like her firearms a bit too much.
A knock on the door preceded the entry of the Langley with a tea tray. Both men got up and moved over to the wing chairs before the fire. Langley set the silver teapot, cups and saucers, creamer and plate of biscuits onto the small wood table between the chairs, then began clearing the plates and silverware on the main table. The only sound heard was the crackling of the fire and the muted rattle of spoons against the porcelain cups as each man fixed their drink to their liking. The manservant pulled the door closed behind him as he left the room.
Watson blew on his tea, watching as a curl of steam rose and faded into the air. After taking a test sip and almost scalding his tongue, he lowered the cup onto the saucer in his other hand and prodded John again. "Back to the subject at hand… the current killings?"
John rolled his eyes and smacked his palms down onto the arms of his chair. "Oh good God, man. I've practically spelled it out for you. You're known as one of the greatest, if not the greatest, detectives of all time. The legendary Sherlock Holmes. And you even can't solve this straight forward mystery at the beginning of your career? Really?" John ground out sarcastically.
"Greatest detective of all time," James repeated, a big, fat, smug smile blooming onto his handsome face. "Fascinating."
John groaned and laughed at the same time. "You would zero in on that part, Snoopy Pants."
Watson merely grinned back and tipped his head in satisfaction. So, history would denote him as a well regarded, famous detective. His hard work would not go unnoticed in the history books. He could tell from John's reaction that Druitt had not meant to tell him that part but rather his frustration had caused him to slip that juicy tidbit. He lifted his cup and took a sip, this time finding the temperature to his liking.
John gave a loud, put upon sigh. "The one thing you need to keep in mind is that the culprit needs your help. Sanctuary is required," he stressed, giving Watson a long, hard look that needed no translation.
"Fascinating," James repeated and took a biscuit off the small plate by the silver teapot. He took a bite as his mind mulled everything over.
John dipped a biscuit lightly into his cup before taking a bite. "It's elementary, my dear Watson," he said and then snorted, unable to suppress his laughter.
Giving his friend a dirty look, James picked up a biscuit and lobbed it at Druitt's head, nailing him perfectly on the side of his forehead. John picked up the biscuit in his lap, swept the crumbs onto the floor and gave James a disgruntled look in return. "Childish."
The sleuth shrugged and ate another biscuit, a small smirk pulling at the right corner of his mouth. It was childish but it felt good. "So, what are your plans now that you are here, in the past? Are you planning to hijack the timeline and recoup your lost life?" The playfulness was suddenly gone from the room.
John lowered his cup onto its saucer on the side table and held out his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I'm not really sure. When Helen went through the time portal my only thought was to follow her to protect her from Adam. He had already assaulted her badly once."
James stiffened at that little tidbit that Helen had conveniently left out. That would explain one reason why she was so willing to kill their old classmate.
"And once I got here, all I was concerned about was finding her and stopping Worth." He looked around the room, still finding it a bit hard to reconcile the fact that he was 113 years back in the past. "I'm still trying to figure out where I go from here."
James believed his friend. The perplexed look on Druitt's face was genuine and James himself could not imagine what it would be like to go back in time and have to relive the past. Especially for John, who's past was rather heinous after taking the injection. "Try not to do anything rash," he asked of John, who refocused his attention onto his companion.
Druitt never got the chance to answer. Langley reentered the room after a quick knock. "Sir, there is someone here to see you."
James started, twisting in his seat to look questioningly at his manservant. No guest was expected. "Who?" Langley gave his employer the caller's card and Watson's brows shot up in surprise at reading the name. He glanced at John who nodded slightly, acknowledging that he would leave Watson to his visitor. Both stood as Langley left to retrieve the guest.
"Thank you for your hospitality," John said, half bowing to his host.
"Remember what I said," James instructed.
"You remember what I said," John smiled back. "Solve the case or it's the world's worst detective title for you," he teased before teleporting out of the room.
A loud chiming of bells from a distant chapel pulled Watson out of his recollections of last night's dinner. He smiled. Last night he had had dinner with his John, the one that he had not seen for several years. Druitt had been quite lucid and quite sane. He really did seem cured of his derangement. For how long, though, Watson did not know. He wasn't sure Druitt did either.
The steady clipping of heels behind him attracted his attention. Turning around, he found the younger version of Helen stepping out onto the rooftop. She was wearing her favorite blue-silver cloak and she flashed him a slightly cross look.
"This better be good. I just climbed up six flights of stairs in new boots," she groused at him, lifting the hem of her dress slightly to show off her new shoes. She was rather fond of shoes he mused as she moved over to join him by the ledge.
He took a deep breath and looked down onto the site of the last murder. "I was thinking about what you said, and I think you're right. It isn't John doing these murders."
Surprised, Helen turned to him. "I'm listening."
Recalling Future Helen and John's hints to him, James laid out his idea. "Another creature, as violent and dangerous as him, with its own unique method of near-instant escape."
Helen was relieved to hear this. She had been terrified at John would be revealed as the killer after all. "As I've been saying, but as you keep pointing out, none of the other possibilities make any sense. No one can teleport like John." She held her breath, praying that James would be able to give provide a reasonable explanation that precluded John.
"What about incredible super strength? The ability to leap quickly to high ground," he suggested, pointed looking down and then around them.
Following his eyes, she immediately grasped his meaning. "Rooftops," she said and felt her heart lightened. It wasn't John after all. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks.
"Exactly," he confirmed and showed her the scratch marks on the ledge in front of them. The look of grateful relief upon her face wasn't lost on Watson. He chafed inwardly. She was still in love with their Druitt, the one still lost in his battle for his sanity and humanity. And while he too was relieved at the culprit being someone other than their friend, it still stung him a bit to be reminded that she was not yet ready to move on from her disastrous relationship with John. Until that happened Watson stood no chance with her romantically.
"Claw marks?"she guessed and smiled at him as he nodded. Helen reached over and squeezed his hand. "We may have the first resident for our sanctuary," she said in a chipper tone, which was totally incongruous given they were talking about a killer.
"Sanctuary is required," Watson said, repeating Future John's words from the night before.
The cool wind prompted the duo to turn and head for the staircase. James put his arm around her to help steady her as she began to descend in her full skirts and she leaned into him to block out the wind.