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


'He is sleeping now.'
'W-W-W-Will he be alright?' Dalton pushed a blanket into Bathory's hands. 'In the, that is, in his chair?'
'He has drunk himself into oblivion, Dalton. I don't think he's going to be uncomfortable.'
'Oh, oh dear, I do hope that...I wonder what it is...' Dalton stumbled. 'He does get so vexed when The Council refuses him.'
'They remind him that he is an amateur.'
'He's not, I mean, he isn't an...'
'Not exactly an amateur, I suppose but...' Bathory poured himself a drink from the almost empty bottle. 'Put it this way. Do you know what they call that girl of theirs? The chosen one.' He took a sip. 'The chosen one. Thus making them, by implication, the chosen ones. They have centuries, no, millennia of tradition and breeding, of doing things their way. And they won't let him play.'
'He...He gets so f-f-f-frustrated. These killings have...'
'He wasn't so worried when it was just William the Bloody and his bitch, picking victims from the streets at their leisure, though was he?' Bathory raised an eyebrow. 'But one little slut gets topped and he goes running to our old friends at the Council. Odd that.'
'He... I... You ... The Doctor is a righteous man, Bathory, h-h-h-he is a...'
'He is, of course, Dalton, a righteous man, a just man, a very private individual. I would never presume to know his motives.' Bathory smiled and tossed back the dregs of his drink. 'Odd though.'


'Dear God he's dead.'
Holmes felt a pair of hot hands at his throat as he began to come round. For the second time that week he began to focus all the strength of his will into the action of his muscles, into producing a movement where movement was no longer needed, to force a tide through canals lapsed into dry inactivity, a heartbeat. 'This is becoming an unfortunate habit of yours Watson.'
He blinked up at his companion. 'And one that hardly engenders confidence in your medical ability.'
'Holmes your pulse, it was...' Watson pressed his fingers back to his friend's neck and felt for the sluggish beat in the vein. 'Morphia.' He spat accusingly. 'I can't believe that you would be so...so stupid as to...When? And why? You knew that you were still weak from... You are not invulnerable, Holmes, no matter what you may think!'
'Indeed I am not.' Holmes pushed himself up on his elbows. 'Do calm yourself Watson, people will begin to stare.'
'I will not.' Watson glared as Holmes gradually raised himself to his feet. 'I cannot imagine why you would be so... So... It's just stupidity, yes Holmes, blind stupidity!'
'Calm yourself, please.' A cab drew up to the curb from out of the thinning mists. 'Come now, this night air is doing my constitution no good at all.'
'No, I believe I shall walk.'
'My dear Watson...'
'No, I wish to walk, Goodbye Holmes.'
'As you will Watson.' Holmes stepped up into the cab. 'Baker street if you please.'


'William.' Albin scolded, 'This is becoming very tiresome.'
Spike stopped pacing for a moment and sparked up a cigarette. 'Albin,' He took a long drag and pushed the smoke out through his nose, 'We're on a humanitarian mission, we're going to reunite someone with their long lost grandma.' Drusilla began to giggle.
'You're going to do what?' Albin pouted. 'You toy with me William dear, it's not fair.'
'Oh cheer up Albin you dismal old bugger.' Spike grinned and smacked Albin cheerily on the shoulder. 'You'll find out soon enough. Go, sod off out, get something to eat, have a bit of fun. Have you ever known us leave you out of anything before?'
'Aside from the rapidly disappearing coach and pair?'


'Dr Watson?' Dr Giles tilted her head in astonishment at the approach of the familiar figure. 'Tell me Peters hasn't given you the graveyard shift on your first week.'
'No, no...' Watson smiled nervously. 'I, um, I thought, as you said...' He cleared his throat. 'I couldn't sleep, so I thought to help here for a while.'
Dr Giles ran her hands briskly under the tap. 'We never did discuss Mr Holmes as I remember.' She took a towel from the side. 'I believe I was called away, did you have something you wished particularly to talk about? '
'I, I will admit to being a little worried, yes.' Watson frowned. 'He, Well, I suppose he has always been a little reckless where his health was concerned but...'
'Excuse me for a moment, Doctor.' Dr Giles slid her arms into her overcoat. 'I've just finished up here and I'm afraid if I don't get home to eat soon I shall faint. Would you care to join me?' She picked up her bag. 'Do you know, I may even splash out on a cab fare.'


Holmes watched the movement of the figure in the darkness, creeping from shadow to shadow in the run-down little alleyway, it paused every few yards to try a door, or run it's fingers along a ground floor window. Idly searching for the opportunity to make a few easy shillings from the misery of others. It darted across to the opposite side of the narrow strip of open ground at the imagined sound of a latch turning and continued it's 'work' as before.
Holmes watched, tensed his limbs, and gave in to the hunt.


'Good evening ma'am.' The ageing attendant raised an eyebrow. 'Sir.'
'Goodness, Pearson, I told you not to wait up for me.' Dr Giles handed her coats to the waiting retainer. 'It must be, what? Gone eleven?'
'It is not safe for a respectable lady to be walking the streets alone at night ma'am.' Pearson sniffed. 'I could not have it on my conscience were Madam to be endangered in some way. Cook has prepared a cold collation in the morning room.' He paused for breath and shot Watson a disdainful glance. 'Should I have set a second place?'
'No, that is, um.' Watson shifted nervously. 'No thank you, I, I've already eaten.'
'Go to bed, Pearson. Listen to the advice of your physician.' Dr Giles smiled as the elderly servant left the room stiffly. 'He does fuss so. But he means well.' She turned to Watson, 'It's this way to the morning room, Dr. If you're sure you don't mind my eating whilst we talk.' She pushed down on the door handle and ushered Watson into the dimly lit room. 'I'm sure I can fetch a second setting from the kitchen if you just... Aggie! What on earth are you doing out of bed at this time of night?'
The small child in the centre of the room froze, and held a small stained stuffed animal of uncertain genus up for inspection. 'F'got Bump.'
'Angus Wymond Giles that is no excuse.' Dr Giles swept a hand over her forehead in irritation. 'What was Nanny thinking?'
' 'Pstairs. Gone asleep.' Angus mumbled through a mouthful of thumb. He stared at Watson from the safety of the centre of the room. 'Who?'
'Whom, dear.' Corrected Dr Giles distractedly. 'This is Dr Watson.' The child obliging extended a healthily pink tongue for inspection. 'No dear, he's a friend of mama's.'
'Hello, um, Angus.' Watson held out a hand and plumbed his diminutive store of small talk for use with young children. 'And what do you want to be when you grow up, eh little fellow?'
To Watson's surprise the child stood stiffly and removed his thumb from his mouth as if to recite a well learnt piece of poetry. 'A Giles is primarily a Watc...'
'He wants to be a train driver. Or possibly a fireman.' Dr Giles interjected rapidly. 'Children will have their fancies.' She drew the youngster to her skirts and began to usher him from the room. 'Come now Aggie, let's get you to the nursery.'
Watson smiled knowingly and patted the emboldened toddler on the top of the head. ' I'm told I once stood before my mother and announced my intention to become a nanny.' He tilted his head wistfully as the pair turned from the room. 'My, um, my own seemed so happy.'


Holmes smelt the fear on the stranger's sweat as he backed him into the darkened corner. He stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow before him and watched silently as his prey attempted a show of defiance.
'You don' scare me right!' The stink of him undermined his bravado as he crouched against the brickwork. 'You touch me, I'll get me mates on you, I ain't got to do nothing but shout and they'll hear me.'
Holmes pushed out a powerful arm and flattened his hand against his quarry 's neck. 'Liar.'