Author's note: More seasonal fun.


The circle of half naked figures dancing around the ancient tree in the middle of the graveyard was enough to send shivers down even Jones' spine, and the one standing before the tree, facing it, was enough to make his heart race.

He could see something tied to the tree, sagging against the ropes as if unconscious, and he hoped that the flash of steel in the hand of the demon facing the restrained figure and the continued chanting meant that the ritual had not yet been completed.

They had been wrong; the final ritual was not set for the end of the month. It was driven by the moon, which made sense now that he considered the murdered and mutilated animals they had found during various phases of the moon.

Jones had a sinking feeling that he knew who the intended victim was as surely as he knew why he was the one standing here in the middle of the graveyard on the night of the full moon. He wondered, briefly, what had happened to the other missing Inspector.

Behind him he heard Hopkins uttered a prayer; Bradstreet mumbled an 'Amen' after him. Jones took a deep, steadying breath and stepped forward.

"That's quite enough of that!" He declared, and the chanting stopped. The dancing stopped as well. He could feel the eyes of those involved in this would-be sacrifice rest on him. "You're under arrest." He informed them. "I would advise against resisting."

The circle scattered. Jones was not immensely worried. They had left every exit from the graveyard guarded by Constables, and few places along the perimeter that were not exits as well. His main concern was with the leader of the group and the rather nasty knife he carried with him.

Jones approached the man before he could decide to go for his intended victim. The half naked woman hissed and lunged. Jones did not turn quickly enough; the knife sliced through his jacket and into his arm.

He ignored it for now and hit the woman-he didn't care if she was a woman at that point-full in the face. There was a choked cry, a spray of blood, and the she-demon went down, clutching at her face and alternately whimpering and uttering curses at the Inspector.

Jones was more interested in the man currently tied to the tree. His own knife cut through the ropes as almost as well as the other had cut through his skin. He caught the newly freed man as he fell and eased him to the ground.

"Hopkins!" He bellowed. "Send for a doctor!"

Hopkins did not need to be told twice. The pale, still form of Inspector Gregson clutched in the arms of a grim Inspector Jones was plenty of incentive.


Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.