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


Watson rubbed his nose clumsily with the back of his hand and blinked into wakefulness, grumbling gently to himself. 'Holmes?' He pulled away from the back of the armchair painfully and rubbed at the knotted muscles in the middle of his shoulder blades. 'Holmes?' He found his words slurred by a yawn. 'Is that you?'
'Wasn't last time I checked. My, what a wide yawn, I'd be careful if I were you, the wind might change.' Trilled Dr Giles happily, tucking a final hairpin above her left ear. 'Do have a cup of coffee Dr. Watson, or there's tea in the pot. If you wish to shave, Pearson has kindly agreed to loan... Are you alright?'
'I...I...Madam,' Watson rose rapidly from the chair and grabbed at his coat as it fell from his lap. 'My bag,' he snapped, bending to retrieve the garment. 'Where is it?'
'It's under the table, Dr, are you sure that you're quite...'
'I... Goodbye Dr Giles.'


'Oh Bathory. Oh, it's just too, too...It's just... Oh Bathory.' Dalton ran a handkerchief once more over the lenses of his spectacles. 'I...Oh Mr Bathory.'
'Do give me that rag Dalton, you'll wear those things out.' Bathory held out his hand and plucked the handkerchief from his companion's grasp. 'Does he sleep now?'
'Oh, Mr Bathory.' Dalton nodded. 'He...I mean, the Doctor has never... He sleeps, w-w-we,' Dalton dug his front teeth into the tip of his thumb and blinked glassily, 'We are to make ready for the hunt.'
'Ha!' Bathory flung the rumpled square of cotton into the air and laughed scornfully. 'So we battle the unholy denizens of Baker street do we? We're moving upward in the social scale Dalton - such celebrities! But, what new cauldron of malfeasance are we to enter after this? Can it be long before we are called to do battle at, ' Bathory placed an earnest hand to his mouth, 'Balmoral?' He threw his head back in mocking laughter.
'You-you-you mustn't... Stop, stop it now.' Dalton rose to his feet. 'No m-m-m-man is above the-the... All-all may become... The Doctor is...'
'Oh the doctor is a righteous man, Dalton, a just man, an upright man, a godly man.' Bathory crowed. 'And mad as a broom.'


'Enter.'
'A visitor, Mr Holmes.' Wyndham lingered edgily in the doorway. 'Are you at home?'
'To whom, Wyndham?' Mycroft sighed wearily and added more coal to the fireplace. 'Not a colleague from overseas, you would have written it in that little book you keep. My brother perhaps? No? Then who? Who is this intriguing new visitor who disrupts my studies?'
'Dr Giles.' Wyndham frowned and made a private resolve to always keep his journal about his person. 'Sir.'
'Oh, what is it now?' Mycroft sat back into his armchair with a sigh. 'Another batch of girls that she's prepared to swear blind have met all the criteria for a potential slayer, only to have them present us with twins in six months time?'
'I believe I apologised for that.' Dr Giles stood at the door. 'And they are seers.'
'And very useful to us they've been to madam. But if you try and claim that it was a deliberate act on your part I'll have you thrown out.' Mycroft turned to the window, grumbling to himself. 'One colleague who appears to think that we run a kind of inferior finishing school and another who takes it to be a home for nursing mothers.'
'Good morning Mr Holmes, a smile on your lips and a song in your heart as ever I see.'
'And I see you have lost none of your crippling timidity in the face of authority, ' Mycroft lifted his gaze towards the doorway. 'Was there a specific reason for your visit, Giles? Or did you merely wish to prove the ineffectiveness of my daily apple?'
'I came to ask you to grant a request - Sir.' Dr Giles shifted uncomfortable with her own display of humility. 'From the Council.'
'Not more funding surely?' Mycroft raised an eyebrow. 'Your philanthropic tendencies are most commendable, Giles, but we must at least keep up the appearance of poverty - after all your clientele are not...'
'Not for more funding.' Dr Giles scratched nervously at the back of her hand. 'There is someone who I believe should be informed of our -'
'No.'
'Your brother's friend, sir.'
'No.'
'I believe that in the circumstances it is important that he be alerted to the dangers,' continued Dr Giles, 'I believe him to be trustworthy and the recent events have placed him in a...'
'You are aware of the rules, Giles, There is no one in the world trustworthy enough.
We stand alone, we remain alone.' Mycroft lifted the poker at his side and gently shifted the coals so that they no longer threatened to suffocate the fire when they fell. 'If we are very lucky, we die alone.'
There was a moments silence, before Dr Giles flushed in angry realisation. 'You didn't tell him. Your own brother! He might have been... Anything might have happened!'
'I alerted him of the necessity to call upon you should anything unusual occur. I trusted in his own ability to judge what was sufficiently unusual.' Mycroft took up a sheaf of papers from the table in front of him and began to leaf idly through them. 'Mine is not an old family Dr Giles, unlike your own, I believe that young - Angus is it? - young Angus, will be the thirtieth generation Giles to fight, and yourself, your family...you were the thirty... third?'
'Thirty-fifth. The thread may be traced back to Cunning Millnes of what is now known as Battle, who claimed that his Slayer was discovered as a foundling amongst his chickens, currents studies however suggest that,' Dr Giles cut short her automatic lecture upon the entangled topiary of her family tree, 'Records are however a little patchy until around 1270.'
'Indeed.' Mycroft took his watch from his pocket and glanced briefly at it. 'Holmes is not a Watcher name, Giles, and perhaps, as the first to be asked to serve, I am still a little in awe of our society. I can't but feel, however, that the multitude who went before me created, and followed, the rules for a reason. Not that they may be broken because a new acquaintance is believed to be trustworthy.'
Dr. Giles bowed her head and turned to leave. 'Sir.' She paused before reaching the door, still flushed from her earlier display of emotion. 'With the greatest respect, I do believe you to be mistaken.' With her fists curled tightly at her sides in frustration she turned to leave. 'How does your husband enjoy Cairo, Mrs Giles?'
'He...I...'
'Allowances are made, Mrs Giles. A Watcher is granted certain, freedoms...'Mycroft spoke in a level voice, the absence of threat a threat in itself. 'Please do not give me cause to regret this.'