(12) Fabled Metal

The pain was a dull, throbbing ache that never fully went away. Having something like a small spear jammed between the ribs through both sides & into the ground underneath prevented the deep wound from healing, but Irene couldn't move. If she did, it was highly likely she would turn to ash. The ridge was pressed up against her heart. She tried to think it through, how to get out of this without accidentally destroying herself. She couldn't hear anything from the sky any more & could only hope that Donovan had managed to help catch Sherlock before any one destroyed him. Hearing someone approach, Irene tried to lift her head to look around but only succeeded in sharply reminding herself of her predicament. The only things she could sort of move were her wings, crumpled up against a wall behind her. She tried to curve one forward over herself in protection.

"Good heavens, what happened here?" A man's voice asked.

Irene felt a hand try to push her better wing away. "Don't touch me!"

"Easy girl," the man knelt beside her. "It's not in my nature to harm a lady. That ridge is touching your heart, isn't it?"

"If I move, I'll be destroyed."

"I think I can pull it out if I yank it straight," the man said. "Move your wing out of the way."

"Who are you?" Irene asked. She knew she didn't have much choice in the matter. It was either stay pinned for all of eternity or trust someone to not finish Sherlock's job of destroying her.

"My name is Arlin & I'm a Lycan," Arlin continued to talk in a low tone. "You're going to need some blood. The more your wings bleed out, the more you'll crave it. We don't want you to end up like Detective Holmes, right now."

"What happened to him?"

"I'm not rightly sure, yet," Arlin said. "The air has gone quiet, recently."

"I hope he hasn't been destroyed," Irene said as she slowly let her wing fall back.

"With the way he acted today, I can guarantee he will be," said Arlin.

"No, something's wrong with him," Irene said. "He would never act like that under normal circumstances."

"Well, it's upto the Undead Law to decide what to do with him," Arlin shrugged, putting a hand on the spike. "Don't move. I'm going to get this out." Irene barely had time to register his words before she felt something cutting through her side as the ridge came out. She lay still, letting things heal. Arlin held it up in his hands. "Hmm, looks like an icicle with a slightly blue tint. You got mixed up with that Detective, didn't you?" Irene pulled in her wings & sat back against the wall. "Ohh, you're Irene Adler, right? You really got mixed up with him, then." Irene just glared at him. "Sorry," Arlin laughed. "Had to say it." He stood up & tossed the ridge piece aside. "I was on my way to my car parked just over there. I have some blood bottles. You're probably a bit thirsty." He indicated the puddles of blood soaking into the ground.

"A little," Irene followed him. "Thanks for your help."

"Any time," Arlin glanced up into the sky. "I hope that got sorted." He opened the boot & pulled forward a box full of bottles.

"I hope he wasn't destroyed," Irene took a bottle. "For John's sake."

"Let's just get you sorted out, for now," said Arlin. "There's not much else we can do at the moment."

John was currently sitting in his arm chair at 221B while Sherrinford explained to him what was done to Sherlock. "He's next to Mycroft's grave, right now. We've put several large boulders on top as well as padlocking his coffin so he can't break out."

"I don't really care how it was done," John finally interrupted. "I want to know how long? We're going to let him dry out. That can take years."

"For humans," Sherrinford said. "They don't depend on blood like we do. Vampires need a set amount of rations per day. Sherlock already bled a lot by flying around, not to mention the injuries we caused him. Vampires dry out rather quickly as we lose blood. He won't be drinking for a while. I'd say a good solid week should be fine."

John leaned forward in his seat. "Will he be aware of the passage of time?" Sherrinford didn't answer. John pressed his fingertips to his eyes. "What about the Undead Law? We bring Sherlock back, but what if they execute him?"

"Even if they do, it won't be for a while," Sherrinford replied. "We are rather curious about this weapon that was used on him. That's a lot more important than destroying him for something he most likely had no control over. You say he was drugged & you have proof. The Undead Law will take that into consideration, especially considering what that drug is."

"Lycan venom," John sighed.

"Highly concentrated, controlled Lycan venom, mixed in with some other concoction," Sherrinford said. "If someone's gone & invented a new sort of weapon against vampires, we need to find it. John? The Undead Law is quite terrified, right now."

"That Lycan venom concentrate can be used to inject vampires & turn them into weapons," John said. "That's what happened to Sherlock."

Sherrinford stared at him. John had stated such a theory as fact & the problem was, John could very easily be right. "If that's true, we are all in trouble. Lycans could be stolen to use their venom & vampires go crazy, unleashed into the world. We need to find out who is responsible."

"I've sent that Lycan venom to the lab at the hospital," John said. "They can do a proper analysis of it & hopefully get some DNA as well. There isn't much more than a drop or two so it will take a while. Molly will call me when she gets some results."

"Good. Let me know what they are," Sherrinford said. "Especially if they can get some DNA out of it. That would be a huge benefit."

"I will," John agreed. "Any luck on that Garcia pack?"

"Not yet," Sherrinford said. "You're quite sure it's them, aren't you?"

"I destroyed their current vampire protector at the time," John said. "Maybe they want to finish what ... what Micah started."

"I hope not," Sherrinford said. "We can't even find them, not yet. Or that Wells pack you ran into, or the Parker one, for that matter."

"Before Sherlock got shot," John began. "We were wondering if maybe Wells & Parker are fake & perhaps not telling us their real name."

"I would suspect so," Sherrinford said. "But they are not the Garcia pack. I took a look at the security camera at the jail to see Kyle & now I'm not sure what to think. I've never seen that guy before, but at the same time, there's something vaguely familiar about him."

"Greg's trying to get Kyle back," John said. "But he hasn't been seen since that day."

"Well, let me know," Sherrinford stood up. He put a hand on Derek's head, peeking out from the stroller. "I'm going to stay at the castle to watch over Sherlock. OW! Hey!" He glared red at the little pup. "Don't bite!"

"Did he bite you?!"

"It's ok," Sherrinford licked his bitten finger. "They're nowhere near their first full moon, yet. But I think they're starting to teethe. Have fun with that!" Laughing, Sherrinford left the flat.

"DEREK!" John pulled the boy from the stroller & held him up. "We are in human form, right now. You do NOT bite! Especially not a vampire!" Derek had the nerve to smile at him. John closed his eyes & groaned.

John eventually returned home. He suddenly had a lot of extra time with them since there was nothing anyone could do now but wait. For results from the lab. For Sherlock to dry out. In the meantime, he was determined to keep the two pups as human as possible.

Four days later, Molly called John to let him know about the pile of ash that he, Greg & Sherlock had found. It was Robert, the hotel master. The next day, Sherrinford sent John a text to say Sherlock's grave had been quiet for a while. He would wait another day or so just to be sure before digging up the casket & transferring it to Bart's hospital for a revival.

John left the pups with Mrs. Hudson when he went to the hospital. He found Molly & Sherrinford in the mortuary & a white casket on the floor, still sealed shut. Molly was filling up every spare space she could with extra blood for Sherlock before leaving to go up & watch by the window. John put a hand on the casket.

"What if he's still insane when you bring him back?"

"I will destroy him, myself," Sherrinford said. "Right here." He handed over a sword. "That ridge we brought up from Titanic. I've had it forged into four of these. We don't give weapons like this out, easily. You, Molly, Greg & Philip each are entrusted with one. If he is still crazy & I fail in here, you all have a shot at him. Do not let him out of this cooler unless he is back to normal."

John silently took the sword & went out to join Molly & Donovan who were closest to the window. He noticed the swords that Molly, Lestrade & Anderson had, all similar to his own, each about four feet long & very thin. The hilts however, had a miniature replica of the Titanic for the guards at the bases of the slightly rounded black blades, while the grips ended with small gold pommels. They watched as Sherrinford undid the two locks before opening the casket. He lifted Sherlock out & placed him on the slab.

Unlike Alexander, Sherlock already had his new wings out & wrapped around himself. He looked like a large chrysalis. The pale colour was gone however. He had gone dark, almost like slate. Sherrinford went to work on him in a similar way Sherlock once did with Alexander. Though it took a while, slowly but surely, the opaque colouring began to appear. The butterfly was about to awaken.

Molly & John knew what to expect & watched unperturbed as Sherlock began responding to the blood therapy. Sherrinford moved to his brother's head just in time as both wings suddenly unfurled & stretched out to either side.

"Now it really begins," John explained to the three cops standing by. "He's going to star—never mind." Sherlock had already started screaming as his dried out body began to soak the blood in.

"You've seen something like this, before?" Lestrade asked.

"Sherlock brought Alexander back," said John. "It isn't pretty but it's necessary."

Sherrinford paused & reached over to open Sherlock's eyes, one at a time. "It seems like his eyes are back to normal," He informed the group watching through the window.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Molly asked.

"I hope so," Sherrinford went on to finish the revival.

Sherlock leapt off the slab & crashed into the farthest wall. Several bags of blood were knocked down. He grabbed one & started drinking it. Sherrinford stood back & held his wings open. Sherlock took up another bag as he pushed himself into the corner, away from the Phoenix wings. He kept his own wings wrapped around himself as he sucked down bag after bag of blood. Sherrinford slid a few more across the floor to him. The next several minutes were spent mostly in silence, waiting for Sherlock to quench his Draculan thirst, hoping that was possible.

Sherlock went through most of the blood before leaning back against the wall, his wings sliding down to either side with the ridges piling onto each other. He threw the empty blood bag across the room & looked up at Sherrinford. They began speaking to each other in Greek.

"What are they saying?" Anderson asked.

"Not sure," said John. "It's Greek, though."

"Greek?"

"Three thousand years ago, Greek was as popular as English is, today," said John. He could hear Xanthá & Theós being said, which was how he knew it was Greek, but apart from their ancient names, John couldn't understand a word of it.

Sherrinford tried to move closer, but Sherlock side-stepped away. "You were shot with some sort of new weapon. Lycan venom was used."

Sherlock continued to move around, away from Sherrinford, keeping his wings partly wrapped around himself as cover. His eyes landed on the open casket. "How long, Theós?"

"About a week," Sherrinford replied. "I watched over you the entire time."

"Just stay over there," Sherlock was by the door now, though it was locked. "I need a lot of space." His wings began shaking in irritation, points clicking against the floor & walls. Any space that was bigger than that coffin was better & he wanted to keep Sherrinford out of it.

Sherrinford glanced at the open casket. "I suppose you do. It is good to have you back. Perhaps you would be more comfortable at the flat."

"Back to the flat, Theós?! After what I did? Dare I show my face, again?"

"Xanthá, it was not your fault," Sherrinford tried. "You were shot."

"I know I was shot," Sherlock muttered. "Why was I not destroyed?"

"It wasn't in your heart & the Lycan venom is ... altered, somehow."

"By the Undead Law!" Sherlock went on as if he wasn't listening. "I understand that imprint now. You might meet the same fate."

"We're all trying to avoid that," Sherrinford said. "We need to know who shot you, who created this weapon & why."

"I have no doubt some people will be terrified of me," Sherlock said. "Of our kind."

"People are always scared of our kind," Sherrinford said. "Has that ever stopped us from trying to make do with this cursed life we now have?" Sherlock went down to the floor again. Sherrinford tossed over another blood bag. While Sherlock sipped at it, Sherrinford added, "You need to do what you do best. Prove to the ones who listen what actually happened out there."

"Can it really be that simple, this time?" Sherlock scoffed as he finished the drink.

"I never said it would be simple," Sherrinford defended as he closed up his wings at last. "Put away your wings, Xanthá & get dressed. The sooner we leave this room, the better you'll be, out in a bigger space." He looked up to the window & finally spoke English to the waiting group. "He's a bit shocked from being in a small space for a while, but I think once we get him to Baker Street, he should be alright."

Sherlock finished getting dressed & then both he & Sherrinford went to work on wiping up the blood from the floor. Sherlock didn't speak another word until they were finished. He leaned on the slab. "I destroyed Irene."

"No," John gasped. "Are you sure?"

Sherlock just nodded mutely & went for the door. Sherrinford shared a concerned look with John & mouthed the words 'here we go again' before following Sherlock outside. Once reunited with the others, Molly, Lestrade, John & Anderson held out their swords but Sherrinford refused them. "They are gifts to you. What happened to Sherlock could happen to me or any other vampire. Keep those swords close."

"But this is Mycroft's ridge," Molly said.

"He wouldn't have wanted it any other way," Sherrinford said. "Now let's get to that flat & put an end to this case."

That was easier said than done. Sherlock refused getting into the lift & it took a lot of hissing, wing flexing & coaxing to even get him into the stairwell. He had been trapped in a coffin for much longer than he had been when he was down with the Titanic & now, any nearby wall was too close.

After going down only one floor, Sherlock bolted. He left the stairwell & ran down the hall to a large window. Spinning suddenly, he used is wings to shatter the pane & get out. Everyone ran down to the lobby & outside. Looking up, they saw Sherlock perched on the wall, his wings stretched out, points slightly curled to dig into the cement to hang on. He lay there, vertically pressed against the outer wall of the hospital's front, panting slightly, trying to subdue the panic attack. It was large out here. Large was good.

"Xanthá," Sherrinford called to him, standing directly below in the street. "Xanthá, please come down!"

"Just a moment, Theós!" Sherlock snapped. He closed his eyes & felt the sun shine down on him. "Just one damned moment."

"I'm sorry we had to do that to you," Sherrinford went on, still in Greek. "But at least it worked. I have a treat ready for you in my car."

Car. Small. Sherlock gripped the hospital even harder with his wings, causing a few pieces to crumble & fall. He looked down to see Molly & Anderson sliding the white casket into Sherrinford's car. In English, Sherlock complained, "That better not be the treat."

"No, of course not," Sherrinford said. "Now will you get down here? You're wrecking the building."

Sherlock released his grip & glided down. He landed on the front steps. "Not like we don't have the money to fix it."

"That's not the point," Sherrinford groaned.

Lestrade moved closer to Sherlock. "How are you doing?"

Sherlock was unable to look at him. "I am sorry I tried to kill you."

"You didn't," Lestrade said. "I went out there on purpose, to be the bait for you. It was John's idea to capture you alive before someone destroyed you."

Sherlock remained rooted to the steps as the others began to get into their cars. Molly went up to him. "Are you coming?"

The cars were a smaller space again. People had been gathering ever since Sherlock had crashed through a window to get out & hang on the side of the hospital. But all Sherlock could do was take yet another step back from the cars. Sherrinford opened the back door to the sedan he had & ducked into it for a moment. He turned back to Sherlock. "I flipped the seats down. You can lie in there & stretch out."

"My casket is in there."

"I'll take it," Lestrade opened the door to his cruiser. "Throw it in the cage there." It took him & Anderson to manoeuvre the box into the cruiser & by that time, Sherrinford had managed to coax Sherlock into his own car. The treat was a small bag of cocaine to help Sherlock take his mind off things. It would be a short high, but for the moment, it worked.

Two cop cars & a black sedan parked along Baker Street a while later. The street had been cleared earlier by Sherrinford not only to make room for the large vehicles but also to keep people away from Sherlock, for now. They filed into the flat, Sherlock coming in last. He stood in the hall way.

Mrs. Hudson came out to him. "The pups are sleeping soundly," She began. "Sherlock, are you alright?'

"No," Sherlock stepped back onto the sidewalk outside. "Too small."

"Take your time, Xanthá," Lestrade said. "I heard your brother call you that a few times. It's your name, isn't it? Your real name?"

Sherlock managed a short smile. "Xanthá Malliá. Greek for fair haired."

"I like it," Lestrade backed up the stairs. "It's nice." He went into the flat without another word.

Sherlock stayed outside on the steps for almost an hour. It had been a while since he was free to move or seen light or was in a space bigger than a coffin. He glanced down at the white casket on the back seat of Lestrade's cruiser. He had been trapped in that thing for a week, suffering from an unimaginable blood thirst, all because he had been shot by some new weapon. Somewhere in the back of his mind during the time he was buried, he knew it was Sherrinford's doing, that he would be safe, that it would be temporary. But it didn't change the fact that his claustrophobia had increased exponentially. Even the flat seemed too small now. He took out his mobile for a bit.

When he did go inside at last, Sherlock found everyone waiting patiently for him & the client chair was empty. It was his turn now. He slowly sat down in it. He looked over each one in turn, starting with Mrs. Hudson & ending with John. "I was shot by a new weapon ..." He began & recounted every detail in order.

"Those are the facts we have, so far," Sherrinford said once Sherlock was done presenting his case.

"I should get the results for that Lycan venom in a day or two," Molly said. "It will help, especially if DNA is found."

Sherlock glanced to the door, as if expecting someone. "Those are not all the facts. Those are just the ones the public will get. For the rest of you, there is something else. Sherrinford went behind me & was able to turn some of the people I attacked. He did not have permission but this was an emergency & it saved some lives so in this case, the Undead Law are turning a blind eye to it. But he did not get to all of them. I have killed seven humans, one Lycan & destroyed four vampires, one of whom was Irene Adler."

"You didn't tell us any of that!" Lestrade glared at Sherrinford.

"Would it have made any difference?" Sherrinford defended. "If that gets out, the Undead Law will have an even bigger mess to deal with besides this new weapon. We need to contain this as much as possible."

"What I have just told you does not leave this room," Sherlock said. "The Undead Law knows what truly happened but no one else, apart from those here & Enola."

"Is that her now?" John asked as he went to answer the door.

"No."

John opened the door. Kate was standing there. Sherlock looked up at her in surprise. "Detective, I've not seen or heard from Irene Adler in a week."

Sherlock put up a hand to stop her. "I am sorry Kate, but she joined against me in my drugged induced state. I have destroyed her."

Everyone stared at Sherlock, disapproving at how quickly & bluntly he had broke the news to her. Kate gaped at him. "H-how c-could you?" She gasped in a hoarse voice.

"I did not mean to," Sherlock said. "I was in a rage & could not control it." Kate didn't seem to hear as she burst into tears. "I am sor—"

Kate screamed & launched herself at his throat. She landed in his lap & the chair fell backwards, tipping both out. "HOW COULD YOU? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" She tried choking him but John & Lestrade lifted her off & held her back. Sherlock slowly pushed himself up to kneel in front of her.

"It was truly an accident."

"SHE LOVED YOU!" Kate sobbed as she yell at him. "Even after you left her behind! She never stopped loving you! She loved us both equally & YOU! MY GOD! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" Sherlock put his forehead into one hand. The girl was inconsolable. "You are unbelievable. First you curse her, drop her as a lover & then you destroy her."

"She—"

"Oh don't bother telling me she asked for it!" Kate interrupted. "You could have declined!"

"She was an adult!" Sherlock finally got a word in edgewise. "A very sensible one. She had every right to ask! She understood my terms."

Kate stopped fighting the two men holding her back. They released their grip on her. She went for the door & stood there. Kate turned back to Sherlock. "It doesn't work, does it?" She moved towards him again. "No matter how many humans you take to your bed, it will never work. Nothing will ever bring any one back. Not whoever you lost, then. Not Irene, now."

"That's enough," Sherlock warned in a low voice. "I truly am sorry for destroying her. She did not deserve it."

"No, she didn't," Kate glared at him. "Just like how you don't deserve any human you were ever with, especially not the first one."

"KATARINA!" Sherlock's eyes went red. "I suggest you leave, now."

"Oh, I will," Kate snarled. "But if I ever see you again, I'll destroy you for what you did to her!" At that, she slapped him hard across the face before turning & marching out the door, slamming it so hard behind her, it bounced back open again.

Sherlock looked around the flat. Dead silence filled the air as everyone took some time to recover. He grabbed the chair & set it straight again. He went to close the door before sitting back in the chair once more.

After a long moment, Sherrinford finally asked in Greek, "Are you alright, Xanthá?"

Sherlock rubbed his face with both hands. He looked up at his brother & replied in their old tongue, "I am quite sure you know the answer to that already, Theós."

Sherrinford came to stand beside Sherlock & put a hand on his shoulder. "And I'm quite sure that you know she is right." Sherlock closed his eyes but didn't answer. Another knock on the door roused everyone from their stunned thoughts for the second time.

John opened it again, this time to find a woman & of all people, someone who looked like a Rabbi. He stood aside to let them in. "Detective Holmes?" The woman approached him.

"Hello, Sharon," Sherlock stood up. "Let's get this over with."

"What are you doing?" Anderson demanded.

"You've gone & turned yourself in, haven't you?" Sherrinford stated.

"What?" John looked at Sherlock. "But ... my imprint!"

"I will not be destroyed any time soon," Sherlock tried to assure him. "This is a huge case for the Undead Law. That weapon is a new terror for us. But you are the one who needs to solve it, John. I will be fine. Rabbi Shlomo, if you will." Sherlock spread open his arms.

"You ARE a Rabbi?" John asked in surprise.

"I'm on leave from Israel," Shlomo said. "Been in Britain for almost two years, but yes, the Kabbalah is the Israeli version of the Undead Law."

"The Kabbalah?" Lestrade raised his brow. "Isn't that all about Jewish magic?"

"Yes," Shlomo nodded. "Who does magic? Vampires & Lycans." He unfolded something that looked like a short, sleeveless tunic. It had a metallic rose gold sheen to it & fell to just above Sherlock's waist. Sherlock put his hands behind him & Sharon put handcuffs of the same metallic sheen onto his wrists. Sherlock winced & shook his shoulders a little.

"You're hurting him," John said.

"I'm not in pain, John," Sherlock said. "This is an invention by the Undead Law many eons ago. You may have heard about it in more recent fairy tales. Mithril, we call it."

John let that sink in for a long moment. "Is Tolkien a vampire?"

"Yes," Sherlock smiled in amusement at John's amazement.

"Is he still around, then?" John asked.

"The Tolkien family is about two thousand years older than the Holmes family," Sherlock said. "When the Lord Of The Rings made their name famous, they had to fake their deaths & disappear, like anyone of the Undead Law used to do."

"Wow!" John gasped. "So this ... this is ..."

"Mithril." Sherlock helped the poor man out. "It interacts with our liquid steel & keeps us from turning it into our wings. It won't work if our wings are already out, but still in liquid form, the mithril holds it at bay. It is ... uncomfortable, but not painful." He looked long & hard at John. "I will be fine. Especially when you solve this case." John finally relented with a silent nod.

"You better be," Lestrade said. "You & I need to have a little talk about cocaine, later."

Sherlock hissed at John. "I swear to any God that exists, you Watsons are the most impossible pack!" With that, he allowed himself to be led out amidst laughter & some tears from the others & John's unimpressed golden glare.