(3) To The Death
Sherlock gently reached in to the broken hive, swirling the air a little to mix the smoke in. The bees buzzed & began bearding onto his hand, but didn't sting. He pushed them all to one side & coaxed them onto trays of sugar water before being able to fix the broken side.
It had been several hours since the death of Mary. Everyone was still in a daze over the incident. John didn't speak much. Sherrinford, of all people, stayed by his side. Sherlock tapped in a small nail to pin the new board to the hive. None of them had seen it like he had. He was used to death. He was a vampire. He was three thousand years old. Lestrade was not the first cop he had bothered to help in crime work. He had seen a lot of death. But getting run down by a semi was unexpected & worse, it was totally avoidable. Why did he not hear it sooner? Why did he not carry Mary all the way until they had gotten behind the fence? If only he hadn't slipped & dropped her. That's why he wasn't carrying her, anymore. He didn't want to hurt her again in case he picked her up & fell a second time. The ground had been quite slippery, after all. But that was no excuse. It didn't matter what Sherrinford said. Sherlock knew ultimately, it was all his fault. It was only a matter of time before John would realize that fact.
After fixing the hive, Sherlock slipped down to the ground & sat with his back against the barn wall where the hives were. He didn't want to see John any time soon. What if John turned on him for letting Mary die? He hid in his Mind Palace, unperturbed by a few bees landing on him.
"Sherlock?"
He tried to open his eyes, but only used one. A bee was climbing down on the other side. Sherlock put a hand up to let the bee come onto his fingers. He finally was able to see out of both eyes & looked up. "Irene? What are you doing here?"
"Enola called me," Irene said. "She told me about Mary. Everyone is here, right now. Even Sally & Philip. Merlin as well & Abe? I never knew that guy could be silent. He hasn't spoken a word. We're all shocked."
Sherlock shook his curls out, casting a few bees into the air. He slowly stood up. "It is entirely my fault & when John figures that out—"
"Oh Sherlock, no!" Irene gasped.
"It is," Sherlock insisted. "I should have carried her." He held up his hand & both watched the bee crawl around for a moment before he puffed on it, causing an air current to make it fly away.
"I could never do that," Irene said. "I'm deathly allergic to bee stings. Worse than John."
Sherlock finally smiled at her. "You were. It won't harm your vampric body." He put a hand into the hive & dipped it into the sugar water. Pulling out, there was a mass of bees clinging to him now. He held his covered hand out to Irene.
"Oh my God!" Irene shrieked, stumbling backwards away from them as they buzzed 'viciously' at her. Sherlock laughed. "How can you even do that?" Irene demanded, hissing at him through gritted fangs.
"They know me," Sherlock replied. "Besides, they won't sting unless threatened. Bees only have one shot & then they'll die."
"UGH!" Irene choked in disgust. "I'm—I'm going to go back inside!" She turned & hurriedly marched back to the castle's main entrance doors.
Sherlock made sure to clean himself off of every bee before following her. He found Enola in the kitchen, slicing tomatoes for a salad. "There you are," Enola began. "Irene said you're being mean to her."
Sherlock just laughed again. "How is John doing?" He finally asked.
"He's gone with Anthea & Sherrinford," Enola answered.
"Anthea. She is still using that name?"
"Well, she works with Sherrinford now. You know how spies are. We're the only ones who know her real name, but she doesn't want it made public," Enola said. "They're going to deal with Mary's will & get a casket. Her body is already on the way to the funeral home for later."
Sherlock watched her cutting the red fruits for a long moment. "I was as useless as when I saw Adrian being stabbed. I couldn't stop that & I couldn't stop the vehicle."
"Mary was an accident," Enola began. "Adrian was a murder. Neither was your fault."
"Neither should have happened."
Enola could only look at him. She had forgotten she was using a knife. Forgotten that was, until she was suddenly reminded of it. "OUCH! DAMMIT!" Enola dropped the knife & the half of the tomato as she clutched her split left ring finger. It began bleeding profusely, exposing her new-found mortality to the ancient, eternal being standing before her.
Sherlock glanced down at her injury. He reached out, took her hand & began sucking on it, using his tongue to hold the wound closed until it slowed the bleeding. He let her go. "I'll get a band aide."
"Wow," Enola gasped, staring at the wound. "A band aide. I don't think I've ever used one."
Sherlock entered the large room where Mary had been previously laid out. He glanced at the bed, still stained with her blood before going to the cupboards along one wall. This was the only place where anything medical was kept since mostly vampires lived at the castle. Any medical stuff they had was meant for the wolves & humans, like Enola now being among humankind again. He pulled a band aide out from one of the boxes & went back to the kitchen. "Here. Cover that cut with it."
Enola eventually had it wrapped. Both stared at it. "This is a little weird," Enola finally admitted. "Never had to do this before."
Sherlock flicked his red eyes into her deep violet ones. He came up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close. "Dearest sister, you have but to ask," he murmured softly in her ear.
"Some day," Enola sighed. "I just want to be normal for now."
They stood together in silence for several minutes, him un-aging, her now dying a slow but steady death. Sherlock breathed in her scent. "Your finger is not the only spring of blood flowing from you, right now." He looked into her eyes. "You are cycling, again."
Enola shoved him away. "Good grief! What is it with you vampire men & periods?" She stormed off. "I happen to be your sister, William!"
"It's just blood!" Sherlock called after her, holding his hands in the air. "Come on!"
"I hate my brother," Enola muttered to Irene in the main parlour. "Sherlock."
"Don't we all," Irene agreed, still put out from the bees.
Sherrinford & the others had returned by then. He noticed the bandage on Enola's finger. "What's this?" He held up her hand.
"Oh, I sliced myself rather deep," Enola shrugged.
Sherrinford looked down at the wrapped finger. "This really isn't right, Enola," He sighed heavily. "Oh!" He leaned forward a little, sniffing like an over-eager puppy. "Well, now. It has been literal ages since your last moon fl—OW!" Enola had slapped him before marching off. "It's really just blood," Sherrinford moaned to himself, sitting down in the nearest chair, holding his face.
"I hate both my brothers!" Enola complained to Irene as they passed each other in the hall.
"I can sense that flow too, but I'm trying not to say anything about it," Irene said.
"I appreciate it," Enola muttered. She held up her cut finger for a moment, looking at the band aide. "First time I use one of these."
"Really?"
"Well, they didn't exist three thousand years ago."
"Oh, right," Irene remembered the age. Enola sure didn't look that old. "You know, I do happen to like girls, as well," Irene suddenly went on, casting a quick glance over Enola. She was quite attractive for being around three thousand years old. "Just a suggestion. It's free for your family."
Enola burst out laughing. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." She lowered her injured hand. "How are you doing, now that Sherlock broke up with you?"
Irene took her time to answer. "Actually, I broke up with him. Before I asked him to turn me."
"You did? Why?"
"Sherlock is one of two times I fell in love," Irene began. "Katie being the other time. One man. One woman. Everyone else was just a client. But unlike Katie, Sherlock can't return the same feeling. At least, not yet. We're good friends, even now. But I'm not a ghost."
"Oh," Enola sighed. "It really is too bad he refuses to find a vampire mate. I've been with a few over my life time. We're quite excellent in bed."
"Hmm, I know," Irene smiled.
"Look, we all wish he would move on," Enola said. "But I don't know how to knock him out of the past. Mycroft had a similar problem. Stuck with what happened to the girls he had adopted. I mean, we all miss them & hate what happened, but for him, it was like he couldn't move forward."
"I'll just have to wait until he does," Irene said. "We're vampires. We've got the time."
"I hope so. You two made a good pair," Enola said before heading back into the kitchen now that Sherlock had disappeared only God knew where but at least, he was out of her hair, for now.
It was a long day with people drifting in & out, leaving their condolences or telling stories about their own encounters with Mary. It was basically a type of funeral for her already; though, the actual funeral was set for a few days later when she would be buried. Mary's body was currently in London being prepared, a black & gold casket open & waiting nearby.
Enola, Irene, Sally, Anthea & other women took care of the food for everyone. Enola showed Sally the dish code when it came to drinks. Any bottle with a red ribbon or red tinted glass was for vampires, only. That way, no wolves or humans would accidentally drink blood. She watched her brothers across the dining hall, both sharing drinks of blood with other vampires. Did she miss it? The killing. The terrorizing. The blood banks. Enola wasn't sure what she missed. She knew that at the moment, she could die at any time. Just like Mary, who should have had almost a thousand years but was wiped out by a truck before she was even fifty.
But that could not happen to a vampire. Sherrinford & Sherlock could be totally flattened by a vehicle & suffer for a while. But they would heal quicker than any werewolf ever could & spring right back. Enola could step out & be killed by literally anything now. She absent-mindedly picked up a red tinted wine glass & raised it to her lips, but didn't drink. Blood was repulsive now to her, no longer a sweet life-sustaining nectar. She saw Merlin approach John, his pure white wings partly open & stretching out to touch John on the shoulders. Wings. She missed hers. That was definitely something foreign to her. Not being able to soar as high as the modern world's planes any more.
Enola watched others talk to John. Even Mrs. Hudson was there. "Oh John," Mrs. Hudson pulled him into a hug. "I'm so sorry. She was such a lovely woman. What a loss & so soon after Mycroft."
Mycroft. Enola touched her pendant. One of two ways to die as a vampire. What are the odds? Mycroft had beaten those odds for three thousand years. He was one of the best spies in the British government, being able to go on suicide missions & come back like nothing happened. By now, they knew why. He was a vampire. But before the exposure, it was kind of hilarious to see confused faces when Mycroft would just saunter back on into work for another day like he owned the place. Enola smiled to herself as she got up & began wandering around the castle. She passed through the Titanic hallway & paused to look at the mural. Mycroft had cheated true death so many times. They all had. Was death now her fate? Either way, die as a mortal or die to the bite. But that bite was another cheat.
Enola found her way outside & looked around the extensive grounds. She could see the ocean beyond on one side. She & her three brothers had been here for almost their entire existences. It hadn't changed much in all that time, apart from the buildings expanding over time. The four of them had always been together here. Change. That is what she had wanted, but now that she had it, she wondered if this was it. No one had planned on losing Mycroft. It should have been the four of them still, just her as a human again. They already had plenty of change.
She glanced through the tall window of the main parlour where nearly everyone was at the moment. Sherrinford was off to the side, on call with someone. Sherlock was near Mrs. Hudson & Molly. Enola went around the corner to the wide patio & saw John by himself, sitting on one of the loveseat benches. They locked eyes with each other.
"I'm sorry," Enola turned away.
"It's quite alright," John said. "I just needed to get out for a minute."
Enola sat in the chair across from him. "I hate what happened to Mary. I really liked her."
"I know," said John.
"Liked her more than you," Enola managed a nervous laugh & John actually joined in for a moment. "Sorry," Enola shut up. "That's probably not appropriate, right now. I am really sorry about Mary."
"We got into a real fight when we first met," John said. "She bit me on the arse."
"I know," Enola laughed. "She told me ALL about it!"
"Of course, she did," John rolled his eyes, but failed to hide a smile.
"Pretty sure she enjoyed every last second of it," Enola went on.
"Yep!" John was softly laughing again. He looked down at her hands. "I heard you sliced yourself up really good."
"Uh, yeah," Enola held up her injured hand for a moment. "It's a little strange, having this on." She flicked away a bee zooming through.
John stretched & stood up. He went to the door leading back into the parlour but stood still for a long time. He finally turned back to her. She was still watching him. "Enola?" He slowly came up to her. "I am sorry about biting you, uh, you know, back then." He sighed.
"We all got into it mistrusting each other from the start," Enola said. "Sherlock never gave up on you. He's the main reason you're still alive."
"There were a couple of times I thought I would get killed," John said.
Enola stood up as well. "You're still a pup as compared to other werewolves. You walked into an ancient family who were dealing with literal ages worth of betrayal, uncertainty. You had no clue but we jumped on you. Except Sherlock, who held back."
"Believe me, no one appreciates that more than I do," said John. "I'm so glad all that is behind us now." He moved back to the doorway. "Will you come to the funeral?"
"Of course," Enola said, blinking back a tear. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Alright," John opened the door. "I'll see you there."
The day of the funeral was a partially cloudy, warm spring afternoon. Everyone who had been at the castle a few days before had returned to pay their final respects to Mary. Even Alexander was there. He had met Mary twice when she was at the castle. Soon, Merlin would take over their newest member to the undead ranks.
After a quick glance around to make sure Sherrinford wasn't nearby, Sherlock approached his latest case. Alexander stepped back away from him but ended up next to a wall. "Oh, did my brother fill your head with nonsense about me?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.
Alexander spoke slowly, still getting used to the modern English. "He said you are trouble."
"I am," Sherlock replied. "But I get the job done. I intend to find out what happened to you. I did not count on Mary getting killed, though. Come to Baker Street in London. 221B. Perhaps in a couple weeks?"
"I do want to know what happened," Alexander thought it over.
"Don't tell Sherrinford," Sherlock said as he turned & walked away.
Mary was eventually laid to rest. John moved over to Sherlock. "Do you mind if I come back to the flat for a while?" He asked. He didn't want to be alone in Mary's house right now.
Sherlock looked at him. "You can come back whenever you wish. It is one of your homes, after all. Mrs. Hudson would probably like to see Derek & Jessica."
"Probably," John managed a short smile.
Sherlock moved closer & put a hand on John's shoulder. "I truly am sorry about Mary," he spoke quietly. It was the best he could do without explaining more. John put a hand on Sherlock's arm for a moment before turning away & heading towards the black limo.
It was strange being back at the flat all of a sudden. John was a bit more quiet than usual. His two children were set up in the spare room in Mrs. Hudson's flat just below. Sherlock left him alone & even went out to see Lestrade a few times. But John found dishes of honeycomb left out for him every day. In his own way, Sherlock was trying to cheer him up. John collected every one he found & would suck at them while watching television. Sherlock surprised him one day by mentioning the football (or what America calls soccer) game on the weekend & if John would like to watch it with someone. He was still trying to get John back to normal.
On game day, the flat was as full as on Christmas when Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Sherrinford, Enola, Anthea & Irene all came to check up on John. Everyone paused as they saw Lestrade's face. Donovan & Anderson couldn't hide their giggles.
"Good Lord, Greg!" Sherrinford exclaimed. "What happened to you?"
Lestrade glared at the other two cops still laughing. "I found out what was up on the roof."
"It was a cobra chicken!" Donovan doubled over, unable to contain herself any more.
"Got him right in the face," Anderson added.
"What the hell is a cobra chicken?" Sherrinford asked.
"Those damned Canada geese that don't migrate!" Lestrade snarled. "Wish that flock that stayed here would go home where they belong!"
"A pair of them tried to nest up there," Anderson added. "They are MEAN!"
Sherlock turned away, hiding a smirk. He let the others take over the living room as he was more content to start working on what little information he had already gathered for Alexander. Ball games were too predictable for him, but this was for John, anyway.
This, of course, put Sherlock on pup duty as he stayed in Mrs. Hudson's flat with them most of the time, occasionally coming up for something or other. Lestrade was sure Sherlock was discreetly checking the score anyway, but good luck getting him to admit it.
Towards the halftime of the game, Sherlock was standing next to John's armchair. When the next goal was made, most of those in the flat shouted in excitement. Lestrade & John even grabbed on to each other for a moment. But the noise wasn't as loud as it should have been & soon, Irene & Anderson were both staring at the TV.
"What happened to the sound?" Irene asked as Anderson looked in behind to see if something was disconnected.
"Oh, it's fine," Enola said. "Sherlock just muted it."
Everyone, except Enola & Sherrinford, turned to glare at him. "What?" Sherlock defended. "We always mute out the cheering crowd."
"That's the best part!" John complained, glaring at Sherlock.
"Why?" Molly looked at each Holmes sibling in turn. It seemed none of them were surprised.
"Well, because of Myc ..." Enola stopped & looked up behind her at Sherlock.
After a moment of silence, Sherlock put down the remote. "I'm sorry. It is unnecessary now."
Enola kept her eyes down on the remote. Sherrinford looked rather grim. "The four of us watched the games together, but we only ever heard the first one." He hesitated before adding, "Mycroft once said the roar of a cheering crowd is the same sound the stern of the Titanic made in its final plunge as all who were still trapped aboard were screaming as it went down, knowing they were about to die within minutes * ."
"What?" John felt instantly guilty in saying it was the best part.
"He was unable to handle hearing such a sound again," Enola said. "If it's enough to scare a vampire, I can't even imagine what the humans felt that night."
"Oh my!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as Molly, Irene & Donovan all put their hands over their mouths & gasped in shock. Lestrade & Anderson could only stare at Sherrinford, unable to say anything.
"So we have always muted these things since," Sherlock said. "But now, well, it no longer matters." He pressed the button on the remote & unmuted it.
John picked up the remote & muted the TV again. "I'm sure we can leave it muted for today."
During the break, everyone went into the kitchen to get something to eat. "Mycroft was very good at hiding it," Sherrinford said to Lestrade. "But he did suffer severe P.T.S.D. from it ever since & some things would just send him running off. Once, the power went out at his estate. It came back on in a few minutes, but Mycroft had taken off. Took him a while to go back to it. He said he felt like he was back on that ship when the power shut down for the last time."
"I read about that," Lestrade said. "When the power went out, one could barely see the ship since it was dark, but it could be heard breaking apart."
"Mycroft's not the only shipwreck survivor we have in our family," Sherrinford went on. "Enola was a nurse in the wars." He gave Lestrade a pointed look. "Take a wild guess what happened to her & a certain hospital ship who happened to be a sister ship to the Titanic?"
"Oh, no. Are you kidding me?"
"She was on the Britannic when it was sunk by a mine," Sherrinford nodded. "Of course, it wasn't as bad as Titanic. Everyone made it off. They had enough lifeboats. The water was much warmer & shallower. The only people that died were the ones who ended up under the spinning propeller since the ship was still moving when they got off. It was war. Enola kept her nurse job for both wars." He pulled out his mobile to look at a text for a moment. "Now that I think of it, I think our family stopped going on ships after all that." He managed a smile.
"I bet," Lestrade said.
"We have a small yacht in the bay by the castle, but that's about it," Sherrinford said. He sent a text back & put the mobile away, then picked up a glass of blood & headed back into the living room to sit down next to John.
Sherlock had long since disappeared into Mrs. Hudson's flat again to keep an eye on John's pups while working on Alexander's case. The others watched the game, muting it when the crowd got loud. When it was over, Sherlock went back upstairs & took a blood bottle out of the fridge for himself. He turned back to glance over the group. It was the first time they were all together in 221B since the exposure of vampires nearly a year ago. Well, almost all. Mycroft's ashes were with each of them if that counted.
"Yes, why don't you stop by, right now?" Sherrinford was saying, walking past Sherlock while talking to someone on the mobile. He looked around the flat. "Now is as good a time as any. We're all here, anyway." He hung up again.
"What happened, Shane?" Sherlock asked.
Everyone fell silent as the remaining Holmes brothers looked at each other. Sherrinford sighed before saying, "That was someone from the Undead Law." He was looking more uncomfortable by the moment. "I've been talking with them for over a month. They, uh, they found something. A couple things, actually." He paused & slightly shook his head. "Alright, they found the case of blood vials Mycroft had with him on board the Titanic."
"What?" Enola jumped to her feet, dropping her glass.
"Mhm & it's been brought up."
"What?" Several others echoed Enola.
"Two of the vials are still intact," Sherrinford went on, ignoring Sherlock's slightly red glare at him. "The others are shattered. The blood is gone. But not from those two."
"Vials of blood?" Anderson raised a brow.
"It was just before blood banks," Enola explained. "Back then, most vampires would use a syringe to steal blood & fill up vials. Mycroft had his rations for the trip so he wouldn't kill anyone on board."
"Steal blood?" Anderson stared at her.
"Well, we tried not to kill anyone & risk exposure," Enola said. "Mostly, we would take a few vials from passed out drunks. The alcoholic blood gave us an extra high. We would only kill criminals. Shane found someone in an alley once trying to rape a woman. He swooped in & carried him off & no one knew what happened. But otherwise, we used a syringe to stock up blood. It's kind of how the idea of blood banks began."
"Mycroft had hidden the vials in a secret compartment in his suitcase," Sherrinford said. "He had plenty for the round trip of the Titanic. It went down with the ship."
"What's the other thing?" Sherlock demanded as Anderson absorbed the information of stealing blood.
"Uh," Sherrinford held up a hand. "That is a little harder to explain." He looked at the TV screen. "I don't understand it myself. I'll just show you." He plugged in his mobile to the TV so that it would show whatever was on his own screen. An eerie underwater picture showed up.
"Isn't that the stern?" John asked.
"This is near the breaking point," Sherrinford said.
"I remember walking there," Enola began. "I tripped on something & fell flat on my face."
"I thought only Mycroft was on board?" John looked at her.
"For the whole trip, yes," answered Enola. "The rest of us just went from Southampton to Cherbourg & got off. We don't exactly count as survivors. Mycroft, Miriam & Emmanulle were supposed to do the whole round trip, all the way out to New York & then back to Southampton." She stared at the picture. "It looks so weird, underwater."
Everyone looked at the picture. The side railing was covered in debris. There was a long pole-like thing sticking out of some of the floorboards of the deck. Sherrinford traced the screen over it with his finger. "Before, most people thought this was another piece of debris," He let his hand fall. "But now that the Undead Law is involved, this pole has been found to not be a part of the Titanic. It is made of a substance humanity doesn't know about."
"Liquid steel!" Enola & Sherlock both exclaimed.
"I thought he didn't have his wings open?" Sherlock stared at the screen, at the piece of their brother stuck miles down under the ocean.
"It's a twenty-one foot piece of his outer right wing ridge," Sherrinford confirmed it. "Mycroft had a forty-eight foot wingspan. So that piece is more than half a wing!"
"It's almost the entire wing on one side," Enola said. She turned & slapped Sherlock hard across the face.
"ENOLA!" Several people yelled at her. But Sherlock just stood there in silence.
"I told you Adrian was in pain!" Enola shot at him. "That night. I said something was wrong & he was in pain. I could feel something was wrong. But you! Just stood there. Brushed it off! You said it would be impossible. That everything was all right. That maybe I had a bad dream & it would be fine. But the ship sunk & now we find out he ripped off most of a ridge that's almost half his wing span! That's pure agony for us!"
"Enola," Sherlock whispered. "I do not know what happened & I do believe this will be one of few times that we will never know." Enola closed her eyes & turned away from him. He put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged him off.
"Why isn't it just ash?" Lestrade asked after a tense moment of silence.
"We only turn to ash if either someone else's wing tip strikes our hearts, or Lycan poison fills it," Sherrinford explained, casting a worried look at the younger siblings. "Or if the wings get infected with Flying Burn, then they get ashy. We can break off wing ridges & make them into swords. It hurts like hell, but it heals. That thing," He pointed at the wing ridge sticking up, covered in sand & muck from down under. "Is a potential weapon & no vampire alive is immune to it, now!"
"Our own wing ridges can not destroy us," Sherlock said, stepping away from Enola. "Mycroft would have been the only one immune to it. The rest of us?" He shook his head. "If the wrong sort get their hands on it, we could have issues." He caught his brother's eye. "Has it been retrieved?"
"Yes," Sherrinford nodded. "Yes, it has."
"Great," Enola grumbled, still mad at Sherlock. "I hope you can get it back?"
"Both the wing ridge & the case should be here any minute," Sherrinford said. He looked at Sherlock. "Why the hell did he have his wings open on that ship?"
"He told us he went into the bow section underwater," Sherlock began. "Looking for his daughters. He used his wings to swim against the suction. But that was the bow, not the stern & it was only underwater. No one saw."
They all looked at the screen. Lestrade finally said. "So why is that there on the stern?"
Sherlock was already scanning through something on his on mobile. "In all accounts of Titanic survivors, there is no mention of vampires." He tossed it aside & went into his Mind Palace.
All watched as Sherlock held on arm straight in front of him, eyes closed, envisioning something. He put his hand up, then down, then up again, mimicking the movements of the stern. Sherlock tilted his head, still thinking. He suddenly came out. "It could be he did not have a chance to close his wings enough in time when he returned to the rest of the ship above water. The stern section moved a bit before making its final plunge & the second break happened in that area when the small middle section tore off. He could have gotten caught."
"But surely someone would have said 'there's a guy with wings on this ship'?" Anderson pointed out.
Sherlock looked at Irene. "Not necessarily. Mycroft had black wings. He could have had them only partly open & held close around him like a cape until he could pull them in. He could blend in to the dark night & water. Irene could do something like that since her wings are dark. But if I tried that, people would notice something is different about me." He turned to Enola. "Sorry, but this is the best I can do at the moment." Enola just glared at him, tears stinging her eyes.
"I've been noticing that," said Molly. "Wings of different colours. Why is that?"
"Most believe it has to do with the person's aura," Sherrinford began. "Their personality. All we really know is that no two vampires have the same colour wings. They can come close. Like Sherlock with his off-white & Merlin with his pure white. Or Mycroft & Irene. Both dark, but she went more to the purple shade; whereas, his was the darkest black. But never two vampires with the same colouring."
"What colour were Dracula's wings?" Lestrade asked.
"Now there's a legend," Sherlock began with a wry laugh. "Blood red. I've seen them up close. They were red. But was that his true color or was it due to being stained in blood from all his murders? One will never know."
"Here I thought all vampires were blood-sucking fiends, until now," Molly teased.
"We do suffer from blood lust if it's unavailable to us for long periods of time," Sherrinford said. "But if we all go into feeding frenzies like Dracula, we would destroy all of humanity & in turn, ourselves."
"No humans, no blood to drink," Mrs. Hudson mused. "So basically, you need to keep the farm life going."
"Oy vey," Sherrinford didn't deny it, but he looked rather horrified at the description. "Oh, do you hear that? Someone's at the door." He left hurriedly to answer it.
Enola finally laughed. "Well, technically. But it sounds bad when you put it like that."
"It's called blood DONATIONS for a reason," Sherlock tried as others started laughing along with Enola.
Sherrinford came back with two others behind him. "I checked the pups on the way down. They're both sleeping." He moved aside to let the newcomers in.
One carried a box & placed it on the coffee table. The other had more difficulty as he was carrying in a very long thing wrapped up in foam & plastic. Sherlock moved next to Enola as the oblong package was eventually fitted in & lay diagonally across the living room floor. Sherrinford stood next to his two last siblings as the two delivery men left at last.
"Were they vampires?" Donovan asked.
"From the Undead Law," Sherlock nodded. "Our personal government."
"Well, they're here," Sherrinford said. He opened the box first to find a very old suitcase buried in Styrofoam. He lifted it out & placed it on the table. "This is over a hundred years old. Preserved in icy water." All three of them looked at it.
"The salt of the water did eat at it a little," Sherlock finally said. "Can that even be opened?"
"It's already been opened," Sherrinford said. "Nothing has been touched or moved except the broken glass from the other vials. But that is how they found out it belonged to Mycroft." He delicately undid the clasps & slowly opened it.
The secret compartment swung down, exposing rows of grooves once covered in fine velvet. Two vials remained, filled with a viscous red liquid. In the depression next to them, was a bag holding all the broken pieces of the rest of the vials. Nothing had been taken. Everyone stared at the suitcase as Sherrinford reached in & picked up two small metal boxes in the main compartment.
"I know what those are," Enola whispered, wiping away tears. "They never even got them."
Sherrinford opened one to find a necklace, a string of tiny diamonds. The other one had a similar piece of jewellery. "These were the birthday gifts for Mycroft's adopted daughters. He was going to give the gifts to them when Titanic docked in New York on their birthday while they were still on board. Outside on the front of the bow."
"Those are beautiful!" John exclaimed in quiet awe.
"At the time we got them," Sherlock said. "They were worth about seven thousand pounds. Each." Several gasped at that revelation.
Sherrinford put the jewellery cases aside & knelt down by the long object. Sherlock & Enola each went to an end & together, the three of them pulled open the wrapping. The last bit of Mycroft was soon exposed & lay before them all.
"That is a vampire slayer," Enola finally said. "It can kill every vampire on Earth! What is to be done with it?"
"We're going to take it to the castle & hide it," Sherrinford replied. "This thing can never be seen by the public eye." He looked at the suitcase, then at the two necklaces still lying in their original boxes. Then he looked long & hard at Sherlock & Enola. Both nodded silently. Sherrinford stood up. "But the rest of it," he passed a hand over one of the necklaces. "Perhaps we could donate it to a Titanic museum, later."
"Really?" Donovan raised a brow.
"It is a part of history," Sherrinford said. "Our history. We have been hiding for so long. But Mycroft was the last Titanic survivor & he deserves to be represented along with everyone else."
Enola put her hands on the wing ridge, as if feeling her fallen brother again. "I wish he was still here," she said softly, wiping away a few tears.
Sherlock dragged his fingers through her hair as he went by her. He disappeared into his own bedroom. Soon, everyone heard 'Hymn To The Sea' coming from his violin. He returned to the living room after finishing the last few notes. The others left quietly, leaving the remaining family to take care of their brother's wing ridge & case. Donovan was hanging onto Anderson's side, weeping softly, as he helped her into one of the two cruisers parked outside.
Irene was the last to leave. She saw Sherlock set up his violin by the window & went to him. "I really am sorry about your brother," she began. "Even if he did try to kill me, once."
Sherlock turned to smile at her. "Spies are not to be trusted. At all." Both ignored the loud disapproving groan from Sherrinford, who also happened to be spy. Sherlock reached over for his bow. "What will you do now that Merlin is finished with you?"
"I'm going back to Katie," said Irene.
"She's still in London," said Sherlock. "Have you told her?"
"Not yet," Irene shook her head. "But I will. I just want to do it in person. So later today. I'm heading over there, now."
Enola & Sherrinford were down on the floor, re-wrapping the wing ridge as Irene moved around them to get out. Sherrinford was still grumbling. Enola started laughing at him. "He's got a point," she said.
"Yeah, he does," Irene agreed as she got out at last.
* Based on a survivor's account I once read, who had run away from a cheering stadium since it sounded just like the final moments of the sinking. Several survivors seemed to have similar reactions.