Title: A delicate test
Author: clarrie
Disclaimer: Most of what you see is owned by, respectively, Joss Whedon, Fox, The WB, The estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jean Marsh and Eileen Atkins, Bram Stoker and Laurie R King.
This is a Sherlock Holmes, Buffy, Dracula, Upstairs Downstairs, Beekeeper crossover. There was a bet.
An illustrated version of this fic can be found at www.geocities.com/bakesale_bitca/deltest.html
'Holmes?' Watson called out to his friend as he entered their rooms. 'Are you up?'
'Perfectly awake, dressed and civilised.' Holmes sprawled in his chair beside the fire, nonchalantly flicking through a heavy volume of uncertain vintage. 'I have washed and shaved without assistance you may notice Watson, hardly the invalid you make me out to be. Indeed I...'
'Holmes,' Watson stood open mouthed. 'What on earth happened to your hand?'
'My hand?' Holmes held up a bandaged hand and tilted his head to one side in momentary thought. 'Would you believe that I dozed whilst smoking my pipe.' He gave a casual laugh. 'Managed to empty the entire contents into my palm.' He held the bandaging up briefly and returned it to his side before Watson could give it more than a cursory glance. 'I woke with something of a start as you can imagine. But I daresay it will heal within a day or two.'
He stood rapidly and began to walk towards his rooms. 'I thought you might like to eat out tonight, yes? Mrs Hudson's cooking is agreeable I know but there's a little place I was told of recently that I'm quite eager to...'
'Holmes, what are you up to?'
'Up to?' Holmes reacted with genuine surprise. 'My dear Watson, I'm not 'up to' anything.' He rested his good hand on the door handle. 'My plans for tonight include nothing more sinister than a good meal and a little exercise. I assure you.'
'You still haven't told me, William.' Albin brushed his fingers through the dozing Drusilla's hair in a distracted way and watched Spike pace the length of the floor. 'Why on earth did you come back here? It can't have been for the good of your health.' He shot a glance around their crude and unwelcoming dwelling. 'And it obviously wasn't for the scenery. Do you know Miss Drusilla,' Albin spoke gently to the young woman curled, child like, at his lap. 'Do you know, I rather think your William wishes to keep me in the dark about his intentions. And that would never do now would it?'
'I built my castle upon a rock, but now the sand runs into all...The sandwiches...' Drusilla leant back and put a hand up to Albin's chin. 'Even the egg.'
'Especially the egg.' Albin pressed an affectionate kiss onto Drusilla's forehead and smiled up at her beloved. 'Well William? I think that was a pretty conclusive statement of endorsement, don't you? Come now, Share...Share...'
'It's an absolutely first class operation, Holmes,' Watson took a forkful of potato and began to chew. 'You really ought to see it.'
'I'm sure it's unutterably fascinating.' Holmes sniffed delicately. 'And not at all unsuitable for discussion at the dinner table...Would you mind passing the salt? Thank you.'
'Yes of course Holmes,' Watson chuckled to himself. 'I apologise, I have a tendency to forget that not everyone shares an interest in my craft.' Watson watched as Holmes salted, tasted and resalted his meal several times over. 'Something the matter with your food Holmes?'
'Hmm, a little bland, it seems that...' Holmes viewed his plate distractedly and took a careful sip at his wine, rolling it over his tongue several times before swallowing. 'I believe I may have picked up a slight chill Watson, nothing more.' He pushed his plate to one side and folded his hands. 'Now, do go on. You were telling me of this hospital of Dr Gile's.'
'It really is outstanding Holmes.' Watson skewered a slice of gammon on his fork and gestured emphatically. 'They run a very tight ship - apparently there's some sort of organisation which supplies them with the bulk of their money but they're terribly stretched, so they have a kind of volunteer timetable.'
'Which our own good Dr has of course allowed himself to be immersed in to the hilt.' Holmes smiled to himself. 'You are too soft hearted by half Watson.'
'It's a very good cause Holmes.'
'Indeed, indeed. You must pay no attention to me.' Holmes took another tentative sip at his wine. 'It is an admirable way for you to spend your time.'
'You would appreciate the organisation of it Holmes, if nothing else.'
'Come now Watson.' Holmes leant back in his chair and smiled over his steepled fingers. 'I 'm not a monster you know. I assure you that I find the endeavours of Dr Giles to alleviate the conditions amongst the London poor to be highly commendable, if inevitably Sisyphean in nature.'
'Bathory?' Van Helsing stared into the depths of the fire 'Do you consider yourself to be an upright man?'
Bathory looked up from his books. 'I believe myself no worse than any other man Doctor.'
'We are all inherently sinful Bathory. The human race is marked and pocked with a thousand little sins and weaknesses.' Van Helsing looked up briefly. 'Where is Dalton?'
'He studies Sir. In the next room.' Bathory opened the door with his foot. 'Dalton, the Doctor wishes to speak.' Dalton blinked into the room, an air of desperate helpfulness combined with resigned pessimism in his face, but as this was his customary expression it went, as did by far the larger part of Dalton's activities, unnoticed.
'I require a drink.'
Hesitantly, the short-sighted youth poured a glass from the whiskey decanter on the sideboard and placed it into his tutor's hand. 'Y-Y-Y-you wanted to...That, that is Bathory said that you...'
'Bathory hears commands where there are only questions.' Van Helsing waved away his pupils concerns. 'He is young,' Van Helsing held up his glass to be refreshed. 'And considers every task to be urgent. Sit down Dalton.' He stared blindly into the fire. 'I am failing again Bathory.'
'Doctor! Why only last month in Ypres...'
'Trifles, petty tasks to fill the time.' Van Helsing bolted the last of his drink and poured another. 'You never saw me at my peak Bathory, you were a child.' He stared through the bottom of his glass. 'At my best, I could strike fear into the blackest heart that Satan ever forged. But now?'
His hand stretched to the bottle again. 'But now... An old man, playing at past glories.' He drank deeply from his glass. 'Picking at a wound and cursing his physicians for presenting him with a cure...'
'Dear me Holmes.' Watson waved his arm before him in the fog. 'Impenetrable.'
'Indeed.' Holmes stood with his hands to his eyes and peered into the gloom. 'It's a walk home for us I fear.' He chuckled. 'Without too many wrong turnings I hope.'
Watson smiled. 'To the right?'
'Quite.'
Watson trod, warily, along the pavement. Keeping the tips of his fingers in close contact with the brickwork of the buildings to his right hand side and his eyes on Holmes's often too quickly retreating back. 'I haven't seen it quite this bad since...'
Holmes tried desperately to focus on the sound of Watson's voice behind him as they stepped onwards through the muddied air. His senses shivered as the sounds of the city attacked him from all sides, the distant inaudible scream of a horse impaled upon the shaft of an oncoming cart sent an electric thrill along his skin, the scent of blood on the wind clouded his mind, pushing aside higher thought. As his mind began to harden into the sharp brittle point of the hunter he clung desperately to normality. A monograph on the paving stones of the central London area: An interesting feature about the paving stones used in the area of London known as... His body sang for the hunt, for the pain he could hear in the night around him for the... Much can be told by careful listening to the sound of the cobblestones, not merely the type of stone and the street name, for by listening for the sounds of wear upon the individual stone a sufficiently trained mind may... The liquid feel of the death he could hear, he could smell, he could almost touch, tore at his reasoning... Particularly interesting to the student of applied harmonics are the stones around... Overcome. Holmes welcomed blissful unconsciousness and collapsed to the ground.
