(5) It Works On Ducks
It had been nearly an hour before Irene unwrapped herself from her wings & sat back against the wall. She saw Kate returning into the living room through the archway & stood up. Kate crossed her arms as she entered.
"You have really pretty wings."
"Thanks," Irene looked them over before pulling them inside. She winced. "Oh, that hurts! Sometimes, I hate Sherlock for granting me my request."
"You hating Sherlock is impossible," Kate said. She looked down, then left for a moment. She returned carrying two wet hand towels & a bowl of water. "Alright, first things first," she gave Irene a towel. "We should clean that up before it dries."
"Hmm," Irene stepped around the pools of blood marking her position on the floor. "I should drink something first." She pulled out a flask. Kate watched her drink it, knowing it was not alcohol. Irene finished it in one go. "I should be getting more from the Undead Law later today."
"I certainly hope so," Kate said as both got down to start scrubbing.
They cleaned the floor in silence for a while. Irene watched Kate more than what she was cleaning & ended up rubbing the same spot the entire time. "Are you alright with this?"
"You being a vampress is fine," Kate said. "I'm just surprised you made Sherlock do it."
"It helped cut ties with him," Irene said. "Since he doesn't date vampires. At least, not yet."
Kate finished cleaning her side of the hardwood floor before sitting back on her legs. "I think I understand why you decided to turn. You're hoping Sherlock will change his mind somewhere in time." Irene looked down at the spot she had been missing the entire time & started cleaning it. Kate added, "Irene, it's been three thousand years. Good luck."
"It will be different," Irene began, making Kate roll her eyes. "I have no intention of forcing him, unlike the others."
"The others?"
"He had other human women find out what he was & ask to be turned in the hopes to seduce him," Irene explained. "I don't intend to do that. He considers me a friend still, so I'll take it. But no mention of me having any feelings for him. I don't want him to hear it."
"Let him go in the hopes that he will come back?"
"That's the plan."
"Like I said," Kate stood up & stretched her legs a bit. "Good luck."
"Well, we have all of eternity," Irene finally stood up as well. Kate looked at her. "What?" Irene asked. "Vampires are immortal."
"I know."
Irene slowly moved towards Kate, as if stalking. "I'm not allowed yet," she began, taking Kate's hands into her own. "I'm still being watched by Merlin, but perhaps later, I could turn you if you want. You have plenty of time to think about it."
"You're not allowed to turn someone?"
"Not yet," Irene shook her head. "They're worried my inexperience would make me suffer the Draculan effect. All new vampires have to wait one year before being allowed to turn someone. I still have several months to go."
Kate put both towels into the bowl now filled with diluted blood. "I definitely need to think about that."
"We've got time," Irene put a hand through Kate's hair. "For now, come to the dance with me?"
"Dance?"
"There's an ancient festival that will be held at the Holmes' castle this year," Irene said. "They do it every hundred seventeen years. I have to be there since I am now turned. But they invite human friends as well. Greg, Sally & Philip should be there. It's in two days."
"Alright," Kate agreed. "I'm surprised Donovan would go. I thought she doesn't get along with Sherlock?"
"If she goes, she's probably Philip's date & nothing more," Irene shrugged.
"What time is it going to be?"
"The festival is in the evening," Irene began. "But the Holmes want a few of us much earlier for a private memorial they'll be doing for Mycroft."
"They're finally starting to talk about that," Kate said. "Took them almost a year."
"Well, when you've known someone for thousands of years, it's a bit shocking," said Irene. "But also, they had slightly more important things to worry about first since vampires were exposed at the same time. Now that the Undead Law has given permission for things to be made public, they can allow anyone who knew Mycroft to come in."
"I hope Sherlock & Donovan behave," Kate said with a smirk.
Donovan watched Sherlock glide away, then glanced at Anderson before returning to the washroom. She lifted the jacket out of the red water & opened the drain to let it out, then refilled the tub for a second soak.
"They sure bleed a lot," Anderson said as he leaned against the door, watching her swish the jacket around a bit.
"That's why they need to drink it," Donovan stood up. "They can't replenish their own blood, anymore." She pushed Anderson back to get out. "I'll let it sit overnight." She tried to head down the hall but he grabbed her arm & pulled her back.
"I mean it, Sally," Anderson began. "No more helicopters! We got lucky Detective Holmes just happened to be flying around. But what about next time?"
"Philip, it's late," Donovan said. "I don't even want to think about this, right now. What happened was a freak accident. It's rare & it's over with. We can't be afraid of life or we won't live."
"Fine," Anderson replied. "We'll talk about it in the morning."
"You staying?" Donovan all but purred as she headed for the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes along the way. He followed her to bed without another word.
It wasn't often they had time together. Work shifts could keep them apart for weeks. But that was the easy bit. Some didn't like the fact co-workers were together (Lestrade was fine with it, but others not so much). The worst though was the odd group stuck in the past, still frowning at inter-racial relationships. A white man with a black woman? How dare they? Some people just never unlearned things.
It had been fine until Sherlock inadvertently exposed them. Donovan lay awake in Anderson's arms long after he had fallen asleep, going over that conversation on the ledge. Despite his flaws, Sherlock had never once actually commented on their mixed racial status or work relationship. He had merely pointed out their affair (which caused an abrupt end to Anderson's marriage, but he had been thinking about divorce anyway) & left it at that. At the time, no one knew he was a vampire. But now that everyone knew how old he really was, things he had said & done over the years made more sense. Living through the ages, slowly learning to change, he needed time to catch up; only to start from square one all over again. It really wasn't easy being a vampire.
Anderson was the first one up & he had the coffee ready by the time Donovan sauntered into the kitchen, still half asleep. He handed her a mug. "This should wake you up."
"Uh huh," Donovan muttered, yawning widely.
"Did I keep you awake all night?" Anderson teased.
"No, I just didn't sleep much," She glanced around as she heard a knock at the door. "Who in the hell is here this early?"
"This early?" Anderson laughed. "Girl, it's past ten!"
"WHAT?" Donovan was suddenly wide awake. She finally went & opened the door. "Um, Enola? What are you doing here?"
"Will sent me with this," Enola held up a long box.
"Will?"
"Don't call him that," Enola warned. "Sherlock hates his first name. But I'm allowed to call him William whenever I wish & there's nothing he can do about it." They stared at each other before both burst out laughing.
"I'm so calling him that next time he pisses me off," Donovan stepped aside to let Enola in.
"Your funeral," Enola teased as she put the box on the table. "He said you are coming to the castle, so you'll need this."
"Is that the dress, already?" Donovan lifted the lid & put it aside. She pushed away the wrapping to find something golden & delicately lifted out the dress.
It was an elegant vintage gown with a baseline shape. There were various shades of golden brown in the material decorated with copper & silver embroidery. The silk Georgette seemed to shimmer as the dress shifted in her hands. Besides the silk; lamé, velvet, chiffon & satin could also be felt.
"It's real silver, copper & gold," Enola said.
"REAL?" Donovan yelped. "My God! The cost of—I-I-I couldn't!"
"Please," Enola waved it away with her hand. "We've accumulated a lot of wealth over thousands of years. It's nothing."
Anderson stared at the gold gown in Donovan's arms. "I'm not sure whether I want to see you in it or out of it."
"Shut up, Philip!" Both women ordered, choking back laughter. Anderson quickly disappeared into the kitchen to make more coffee.
Donovan put the dress aside & pulled out the shoes, a pair of dark gold flats. "I'm amazed they aren't high heels."
"Will said you don't like dressing up like a girl," Enola said.
"Oh he did, did he?" Donovan rolled her eyes.
"By the way, you two should come up to the castle as early as possible," Enola said. "We are having a smaller gathering first & I could help you with any make up as well. Will probably sent you a text for the times by now."
Right at that moment, both Donovan's as well as Anderson's phones dinged. "He really does think of everything, doesn't he?" Donovan replied, somewhat impressed in spite of it. She put the flats aside. "Will there be other, um, humans there besides the three of us?"
"Plenty," said Enola. "Lycans as well. John will be there. Any friends are invited over. I'm a little surprised he invited you, personally. You two don't get along at all."
Donovan laughed sheepishly. "I did just fall out of a helicopter & he saved me. Maybe it's a temporary truce?"
"Maybe," Enola said. "Just remember not to pick up any glass that is red tinted or any sort of bottle with a red ribbon tied on. Just like what we did when Mary ... well, anyway, that's for the vampric folks."
"You were a vampire before," Anderson came back into the living room & held out a mug of coffee to Enola. "What was it like getting cured like that, getting stabbed through by John?"
Enola hesitated before answering. Mycroft had just been murdered mere seconds before John cured her. "I think it would have been better without my brother's ashes floating over me."
There was a long awkward silence. Donovan grunted under breath as she slapped Anderson's arm, casting him a side-long glare. "I'm-I'm sorry," Anderson finally spoke. "I didn't even think of that."
Enola fiddled with her pendant for a moment. "Vampires are immortal, but not invincible. Often, we fail to remember that." She let the necklace go. "Strange thing is, it didn't hurt. Excalibur went right through me. I could feel something sliding in, but no pain. Next thing I knew, I could feel my heartbeat again all of a sudden, after three thousand years."
"Do you think you'll ever go back to it?" Donovan asked. "Do you miss it?"
Enola managed a smile. "I miss my wings most of all. Now, I stand on the ground & watch my brothers glide like eagles, but I can no longer join them. I might turn back, someday. But I was barely in my twenties when I was turned the first time. I want to live a little as a human again." She finished her coffee & put the mug on the table, then grabbed Donovan's hand & pulled her to the window. "Stand in the light for a moment," Enola pulled out her mobile.
"What are you doing?"
"Well, if I'm going to help you with make up, I need to make a palette," Enola said, putting a finger under Donovan's chin to lift her face a little. "I've got plenty of makeup at the castle."
"We're not the same color," Donovan said.
"That doesn't matter," said Enola. "I've worked on black skin before. I've got every tone in the book." She took a few pictures of different angles before putting the mobile away. "I'll study that later & fix you up when you come & uh," she leaned in close. "We can have plenty of girl talk about vampire men. Trust me, you want to know!"
"Uh, um, ok," Donovan stammered. After Enola left, Donovan stared at the dress for a long moment, then took it & the flats down the hall to the bedroom. When she finally returned, all Anderson could do was stare at her ... & drop his mug to the floor where it smashed into several pieces.
The next time Donovan saw Sherlock was early morning in a flat several floors up at the scene of a murder. She pulled him aside. "That dress!"
"What of it?" Sherlock worked away on his mobile.
"You shouldn't have!"
"It was nothing," Sherlock got down on his knees for a closer look at the body. He paused & finally looked up at her. "Do you not like it?"
"It's gorgeous!" Donovan exclaimed. "But, the cost of it!"
"Like I said," Sherlock turned back to the body beside him. "It was nothing."
Donovan stared at him for a long moment before finally saying, "Thank you for it."
"No problem," Sherlock got up & went outside to the balcony.
Lestrade came in. "Well, this is our last case of the day & then we all need to head out."
"We're going early," said Anderson as he put a hand on Donovan's shoulder for a moment.
"So am I. I'll see you there," Lestrade glanced around & headed for the balcony. "Oh Sherlock, I—uh oh!"
Sherlock was in the process of jumping up to the next balcony. Lestrade's interruption knocked him out of his Mind Palace where he was calculating the jump which in turn made him knock his head against the base of the balcony above & finally, he toppled downward. He had to spread his wings to crash land on the street below. There was a squealing of wheels & Sherlock momentarily disappeared.
Lestrade turned away, both hands clasped to his face. He locked eyes with his two officers, each having equal looks of shock on their faces before turning back to the railing & peering over. A bus was off the road, parked sideways. Sherlock was slowly picking himself up. Lestrade took out his mobile. Sherlock eventually turned his on.
"I am so sorry, Sherlock," Lestrade gasped when he was answered. "I did not mean to drag you out of that Mind Palace."
"All night," was Sherlock's reply. "All night Shane & I spent, preening each other. I just had these wings cleaned & now, I have tyre tracks on both of them & it is entirely YOUR fault!"
Lestrade squinted to see below better. Sherlock's great icy wings were still open but there were definitely some long black marks on them. "Vampires preen?"
"Of course, we preen! We have wings, don't we?" Sherlock snapped. He folded one wing around him for a moment to inspect it. He groaned, seeing the ugly black marks.
"Are you alright, Detective?" The bus driver came out of the vehicle & cast a horrified glanced over the streaked wings.
"I'll be fine," Sherlock replied, closing his mobile. "I have already healed from the blow. It was not your fault. But now I have to get these wings cleaned as quickly as possible." He headed inside as traffic slowly began to sort itself out once more.
Lestrade pocketed his mobile & glanced at Donovan & Anderson. "Any idea on how to get tyre marks off of leathery membrane?"
... ... A few minutes later ... ...
Lestrade had put everything that was on the table in the lobby of the building onto the floor on one side. Sherlock was now lying face down on it, a wing spread out on either side, outer tips sort of scrunched up against the wall. Lestrade & Anderson were working on the right one while John & Donovan scrubbed away on the left one. John had also taken a few pictures & put them on the blogs.
Sherlock occasionally hissed & growled at anyone scrubbing a little too hard, or worse, breaking out into yet another fit of stifled laughter, sounding for all the world like an angry, unhappy pussycat. On top of it all, those wiping down the wings would unwittingly go over certain areas & Sherlock often gripped the table's edge, trying to focus on something other than that personal touch.
Sherlock wiggled around to grab his mobile when it rang. "What?" He all but snarled at his brother.
"You should be up here at the castle!" Sherrinford half-snapped.
"Shane," Sherlock groaned, rubbing his brow with his free hand before saying words he never thought he would have to say. "I was just thrown under a bus & now I have tyre tracks on my wings. I really do not care about the castle, right now."
Sherrinford was in the process of having a drink. He choked on the blood. "Tyre tracks on your wings?"
"Check John's blog," Sherlock rolled his eyes shut & hung up without another word.
Lestrade's mobile was next. He wiped one hand dry & then put the mobile between his ear & shoulder. "Shane, I really can't talk at the moment. My hands are slippery with Dawn."
"Dawn?"
"Works on ducks," Lestrade pointed out.
"Ducks?!" Sherrinford exclaimed, turning on a laptop to check the blogs.
"Quack, quack," Anderson quacked before getting hissed at. Sherlock then began hissing at John for scrubbing too hard, then at everyone else for laughing again.
"It's working," Lestrade went on. "It will be a while, but it actually works."
"I'm looking at John's pictures, right now!" Sherrinford wheezed, before adding, "You know, vampire wings have a few erogenous spots & looks like you're rubbing some of them."
"Yeah right!" Lestrade scoffed.
"Uh seriously, we do," Sherrinford insisted.
"Sure Shane," Lestrade rolled his eyes as he leaned close to Sherlock's ear. "Personally, I think the tyre marks are an improvement."
"SHUT UP!" Sherlock bellowed.
By now, everyone was crying from laughter. Lestrade's mobile slipped out & landed in his bucket of warm soapy water, never to work again & John stepped back to film the rest of the process. Sherlock dropped his head, banging into the edge of the table, hating on everybody at the moment.
Lestrade moved over to Sherlock's head & knelt down to ask under breath, "So your brother mentioned something. Is it true vampire wings are ... um ... well, you know?" Sherlock glared red at him. Lestrade tried again. "Areas are ... well, sensitive. I mean ... "
"Are our wings useful during sexual play? Yes they are, now hurry up!" Sherlock ordered, envisioning turning Sherrinford to a pile of ash for letting out this rather personal information.
"I'm really sorry."
"Just ... get it over with."
"Ok," Lestrade got up & went back to his place by the left wing to work on a part of the black stripe on it. His face twitched uncontrollably while he cleaned the mark off.
It wasn't for another hour until the wings were completely clean again. Sherlock resorted to flying back to the castle to get there faster. John & the three cops set the lobby back in order before Lestrade went to the front desk to sign some papers for the murder several floors up.
Lestrade felt around in his pockets. "I think I lost my pen," he said after a moment of looking.
A man sitting in an armchair near the front desk, reading the paper, tossed one over. "Use mine."
"Thanks," Lestrade caught it & turned back to the desk. "Well, that should do it," he laid the pen aside & pushed a copy of the paper over to the receptionist. "We should be able to finish closing it in a day or two, once Sherlock forgives us for laughing at his recent wing decorations," he finished with another laugh before glancing around to look for the one who had handed him the pen. "Where'd he go?"
Instinctively, John sniffed a little. "Down the hall."
Lestrade looked at him. "All your senses are heightened since you were activated, aren't they?"
"Possibly," John held out his hand. "I can run it over to him."
"Alright," Lestrade passed him the pen. "See you at the ... John?"
The moment John touched the pen, he yelped as if being startled before dropping flat on his back to the floor.
John slowly turned his head to the left. He could feel Lestrade, Donovan & Anderson around him, trying to revive him, but he was more worried about what he was seeing. He could only lie there & watch as both Sherrinford & Sherlock were run through with lances while tied to a wall.
Both turned dark as stone & shattered like glass into ashes.
"John?" Lestrade was kneeling beside him, patting his face. "Come on, John!"
John heard the cop's voice clear as day & sat bolt right up with a loud gasp. "Greg?"
"What happened?" Lestrade asked.
"That ... pen!" John panted. "I ... I imprinted!"
"What do you mean?" Lestrade & Anderson both pulled John to his feet.
"It's something I can do now," John said. "I touch something, I might pick up a piece of its history that may also connect to the future. It's how I found Sherlock, when he got buried with the Titanic." He quickly explained it before grabbing his mobile.
"What did you see this time?" Donovan asked.
John paused before slowly looking up at her. "You really do not want to know." He pressed something on the mobile & everyone heard Sherrinford answer. "Shane, I'm still at the hotel with Greg, Philip & Sally. I need to ask you something."
"What is it?"
"Does the Undead Law have the Death Penalty?"
Everyone stared at John as a long silence hung in the air before Sherrinford answered. "Yes actually, we do. But only for very specific crimes. It's been about a century since we've used it, though. Why do you ask?"
"I imprinted a pen," John looked into his palm, seeing a small pen etched there for a moment. "Used for signing official papers. I just saw you & Sherlock tied to a wall, run through with lances & shatter into ash." The three cops all gaped at him as John finished, "It looked like an execution."
"That's how we do it for vampires," Sherrinford replied slowly. "Lycans get a bite. But John, such a crime worthy of that is not possible for me or Sherlock."
"Maybe you get framed? You are a spy, after all."
"Me, maybe, but not Sherlock," Sherrinford said. "But the Undead Law is very strict. They won't just execute someone without hardcore proof. Last execution we did was a long while in the making before we had all the proof. The Undead Law does not liberally use the Death Penalty. We have never accidentally executed an innocent, unlike the human government in America. It would be very hard to frame us & succeed."
"I hope so," John said. "Why were they executed?"
"Jack was going down the path of Dracula," Sherrinford said. "London was not his first area for murders. He changed his pattern a lot to confuse us. In that era, he tried to make it look like he had a thing against women. But really, he just wanted more blood than he needed. A bad case of the Draculan effect. If a vampire resorts to basic animal instincts for more blood unnecessary for survival, it is best to take them out or else, we could have been exposed, although that doesn't matter now. Vampires given over to blood can destroy all of humanity. Same for Lycans, if they taste human blood on a full moon, they can go rabid & will have to be put down. Just like Dracula & Jack, taking too much blood can destroy the balance."
"Wait a minute," John thought for a second. "When you say Jack ... "
"The Ripper, yes," Sherrinford said making everyone gasp. "He was a vampire, about three hundred years old. That's why the world doesn't know his identity because at the time, we were living in secret. He idolized Vlad Dracu. We had to follow Jack's trail & connect it all over the world. It took ages. He was a clever bastard."
"Wow!" John exclaimed. "Never thought he might be a vampire."
"He certainly was," said Sherrinford. "Where'd that pen come from? Who owns it?"
"I don't know," John answered. "But I intend to find out!"
(AN: This story is also on AO3 where pictures are allowed & there is a picture of the gold gown inserted into the chapter there if you want to see it. My AO3 name is Candystar & the Death Series is the only series I have at the moment.)