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


'Momento corpus,' Bathory intoned dolefully, marking out on the floor in ashes the pattern he had already etched upon the skin of the four recently departed vampires, 'Momento esuritonis.'
He put a match to the wick of a large, greasy, candle, and took up position in the centre of the design.
'Mother Erzsébet,' he wailed, 'hear my call... '


'S-s-s-sir.' Dalton stood in the door to Van Helsing's study. 'S-sir.'
'Ah, Dalton,' Van Helsing sealed an envelope with a cheery whistle, 'would you please take this to...'
'No.' Dalton stood, pale, and biting down hard on his bottom lip, but resolute. 'You... Y-You're using them, How- how could you...'
'Dalton?' Van Helsing, looked up from his papers. 'Are you quite alright?'
'Bait!' Snapped Dalton, accusingly at his mentor. 'You have sent those poor girls, a-a-as-as a lure.' He spat. 'A-a-a-a-a...'
'Pull yourself together.' Van Helsing averted his eyes from Dalton's glare. 'You, you're becoming quite hysterical Dalton, where is Bathory? I need him to...'
'The S-s-s-scientist,' Dalton blocked his master's path, reading haltingly aloud from Van Helsing's own notes, ' Is the most d-d-d-d-dangerous of the t-turned. For the logician w-w-will s-s-s-s-s-s-s, w-will s-s-s-s-seek p-p-p-prey not on the grounds of p-p-personal allure but p-p-perceived d-d-d-d-dispensability...' He threw the notes to the ground in frustration. 'W-we're s-s-s-s-s-s,' He struggled, 's-stopping it. Now.'


'Three little maids from school are we, pert as a school girl well may be, filled to the brim with girlish glee...' Trilled Albin giddily as they lounged nonchalantly in the alleyway alongside the theatre. 'Three little ma-ids from school.' He took hold of Drusilla's hands and danced her along the path, 'Everything is a source of fun, Nobody's safe we care for none, Life is a joke that's just...'
'Albin.' Spike put out a hand to interrupt his friend, and pulled Drusilla back to him. 'If we're to end this evening with a baying mob after us,' He flicked a cigarette butt to the ground, 'I'd rather it weren't on account of your singing.'
'You have no appreciation of popular theatre, William.'
'Well, that's not true, is it Dru? We saw The Amazing Marvo every night for a month at the Grande, didn't we?' He stroked the hair gently from her face. 'You remember pet? The pretty doves?'
' 'E was a nasty old man,' Drusilla pouted, 'Shouted at me.'
'Be fair love, you did eat his assistant.' Spike sparked up another cigarette and relaxed against the wall. 'Where's Tiny got himself off to then?'
'Hmm?' Albin blinked distantly and sniffed. 'I believe that Albert saw a little Italian selling ices on the corner.' His face split into a wide grin as the larger vampire appeared, wiping his mouth.
Drusilla, folding herself into Spike's coat, smiled. ' 'E'll ruin 'is appetite...'

'Mama! Story?' Young Angus Giles stood, wrapped in his blankets, and watched his mother negotiate the discarded toys and unidentified sticky patches on the nursery rug.
He bounced, slightly, and enjoyed the unfamiliar springiness and view that his new mattress and bed-frame offered in exchange for the security of his crib. A brief subconscious calculation of the momentum required to fling himself clear across the room was made, and filed in the compartment of his brain marked 'for future experimentation'.
'Mamma,' He bounced forcefully, 'Story.
' 'Dear me,' Dr Giles reached his bedside and looked down at the impatient blond. 'Do calm down, you'll do yourself an injury.' She raised an eyebrow and folded her hands playfully across her chest. 'And which story does the young master demand, as if I need ask?'
'Jeevan Himmat Singh!' He yelled, with the curiously deep and purposeful voice that young children often have before they learn to lisp, whisper, and anthropomorphize their stuffed animals for the benefit of adults.
'Again?' Dr Giles clicked her tongue in resignation. 'Well, are we all settled down? Yes?'
Angus loosened his muscles and allowed gravity to pull him to the horizontal. His mother darted forward and, with the skill of the professional, had him firmly tucked in before he could protest. 'A long time ago,' She began, 'In India there lived a wise old Watcher named Jeevan Himmat Singh, who lived with his Slayer, Paramjit, in a little hut on the edge of the jungle. Paramjit was as beautiful and kind as she was brave and Jeevan Himmat Singh loved her as if she were his own daughter -'
'Ma ma!' Interrupted Angus impatiently, wriggling free from his patchwork bonds.
'My, aren't you growing into a blood-thirsty little horror?' She frowned playfully. 'Is this your subtle way of telling me to get on to the exciting parts?'
'Ramjeet Thakur!!' Yelled Angus, and bounced unbound.


'Virginia, please, how many times do I have to...' Miss Pryce froze as the quartet stepped out from the shadows across the way.
A charge shot through the four Watchers as each in turn recognised the pale, malformed, faces staring at them from across the square, enemy by birth and training, watching. The theatre crowd, chattering, warm and full of life, slid away into the night, oblivious to the threat in the shadows.
'Poll?' Travers felt for his wife's hand and twisted his fingers in hers. 'I'm sorry.'


Dr Giles lowered her voice and sat close to the wide-eyed infant. 'Jeevan Himmat Singh,' She whispered, 'Stood in the darkness of Ramjeet Thakur's doorway and drew upon everything he had ever learnt from the Fakirs in his home village, for he knew that the life of Paramjit depended on his actions. 'Master Ramjeet,' he said, his voice low with the effort, 'if I were not a vampire, would I not have a heart beat?' He held his wrist out to his enemy, 'And a pulse?'' Dr Giles stopped, her hand at her mouth, sick with sudden realisation. 'Oh,' She murmured, 'Oh dear God...Aggie dear, Mummy has to,' Dr Giles leapt to her feet. 'I-I've just remembered something terribly important, terribly, terribly important... ' She dipped, and kissed her son distractedly on the forehead. 'Be a good boy for nurse dear...'


'When the wind blows, the cradle will fall,' crooned Drusilla rocking the mesmerised child in her arms, 'And down will come baby,' She pushed the girl's head towards her shoulder, exposing her throat, 'Cradle and all...'
'Keep still you little...Argh.' Albin heard something snap as the well trained foot of an earling connected with his sternum. 'Really...' He blocked the girl's stabs, precision, but without strength behind them, and grabbed at her shoulder. He twisted her upper body 'I told you,' a knee in the small of her back pinned her in position, 'do keep still.' All was blackness...


'With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney,' sang Ruby softly to herself as she twisted the duster around her finger and rubbed around the inside of the brass-work on the wall. 'Peter Dany, Daniel Wheddon, Harry Hawk-'
'And Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all.' Holmes exhaled a stream of smoke slowly and watched it rise towards the ceiling. 'Good evening Ruby.'


Spike let the drained body fall to the floor and grabbed at the fist already racing towards his side. He felt the joyous pop as the thin arm dislocated at the shoulder and tugged sharply on the useless limb, pulling her to him like a roped steer. 'Now,' smiling, he drove his fist into her face, 'I bet you wish,' He lifted the near unconscious girl until her throat was level with his teeth, 'that you'd been taught to run...'
'Oh,' Albin ducked beneath the young man's punch and threw his own, winding his opponent, 'Oh for pity's sake,' He looped his fingers beneath the red-faced blonde's chin and pulled his head back. Albin heard the snap as the young Watcher's vertebrae separated. He let the corpse fall to the floor and paused. 'Well,' He held out a nonchalant hand to grab for one of the earlings as she ran past, 'What a waste that was.'
'Ere!' Bert grabbed at the weeping woman's wrist as she flailed wildly, and brought his fist round in a savage blow upon her chest. 'You din't want to do-' Mrs Travers withdrew the stake from his heart and let the dust explode around her. 'I bloody did.' She murmured, collapsing to the floor.


Bathory stared at the glowing circlet of dust around him, illuminating the unlikable dwelling with sudden rising bursts of light. The air swelled with the power flowing into the room and pressed against him like the unfeeling crowds in the streets outside. Another life ended, another burst of power entered him.
Bathory threw back his head, and wept.


'Oh for fu-' Spike pushed aside the short sighted Watcher's ineffectual jabs as a golden haired young earling barrelled into him. 'One at a -' He found his sentence cut off midway as the sparse young girl flung him heavily against the wall.
'Yes!' Grunted Spike through the pain, his eyes growing bright with recognition. 'We have a Slayer!'


'And what is it will you be doing when we arrive, Dalton?' Snapped Van Helsing, pulling the edges of his cloak together against the cold. 'You will be warning them?' He raged from the curb-side as his student attempted to attract the attention of a cab. 'You will be explaining to them? Protecting them?'
'I-I...'
'As you did in Omsk?' There was a moment of brittle, solid, silence as the cab drew up to the curb. Van Helsing shrugged off his pupil's hand as he began to usher him into the cab and stared unblinking into Dalton's eyes. 'Will you pay for the burials this time, too?'


Wyndham landed hard upon the cobbles and pulled himself painfully into the shadow, he screwed up his eyes and squinted blearily at the torn skin on his palms and knees.
'Oh congratulations Lucia dear! So proud, I - Oh my, poor Fatima, I'd quite forgotten, I suppose I shall have to dig out my half mourning... '
Wyndham stared at the creature curled in the shadows beside him. 'Excuse me?'
'Your glasses,' She passed across the scratched and bent spectacles. 'Did you see? Did you see Lucia?' Miss Pryce wrung her hands. 'Oh, poor Fatima, Do you suppose they shall call Professor Giles back from... Oh but of course they shall, without her he has no cause to be...' Her eyes widened at the battle in front of them and paling slightly, she placed a thin hand to her throat. 'Oh. Poor dear Lucia, so soon! We must take care that she is noted Mr Wyndham,' She frowned earnestly, 'She must have her place in the record.'
Wyndham stared at his fellow Watcher in disbelief. 'I hardly think-' He gulped as a small nut brown hand closed over his mouth and grasped his jaw in an iron grip.
'Oh, Zillah! Congratulations dear, you really are most-'
'Scarper!' Hissed the dark haired young Slayer removing her hand from Wyndham's mouth. 'You'd have to be glocky to stay up here right? I wouldn't give a salter for yeh chances if you don't rub sharpish.' She pulled open a drain cover and tossed it aside. 'This way you can maybe yelp at the bunyo' ken.'
Wyndham stared in blank incomprehension at the Slayer as she assisted Miss Pryce into the sewer. 'Um?'
'We're to try and get back to Bellum House and raise the alarm.' Called Pryce from below. 'The poor little dear does still have such a tendency to revert to speaking cant in times of stress I'm afraid, I can hardly understand more than one word in three sometimes, but she's a good soul at heart, oh, dear me, do watch that third step Mr Wyndham it seems to have something slippery on it...'


'Dr Giles you can't...' The young Watcher found himself pushed roughly aside as his colleague forced her way into their superior's office.
'You bloody fool!'
'If you would excuse us please Peters, I'll deal with this.' Mycroft lifted himself from his armchair and turned to face the intruder. 'Dr Giles, kindly calm yourself.'
'How could you? Your own brother!'
Mycroft stared into the fire beside him. 'The lives of friends and family are of no more worth to us than that of strangers, cannot be of more worth. I was taught that not as a child, Giles, but as a grown man.' He turned to his colleague. 'There must be no revenge, Giles, no retribution, no waste of resources to avenge the dead.'
'You knew! You knew he'd studied... And you sent me to play at doctors like a...'
'My brother is not a vampire Giles.'
'But...'
'Either my brother lives, or he is dead. It is possible that there is now a demon inhabiting his corpse. This does not make him any less dead.'

Wyndham blinked and tried not to think about how long they had been wandering blindly around for his eyes to get so used to the almost complete darkness. 'Miss Pryce?'
'Here.' Her voice echoed loudly around the black abandoned tunnels.
'I am afraid that we are hopelessly lost.'

To be continued....