(14) ... Will Always Come Back To Bite You

The cell was large, over sixty feet long & perhaps about thirty wide. The ceiling, floor & walls were cement with no windows anywhere. The walls & floor were covered with dark stains that looked like dried blood. There were tubes of fluorescence lighting running down the length of the ceiling. At the far end, in one corner was a single white fridge standing close to a door that opened into a washroom with a large bath. At the other was a gate made of various coloured bars, blocking the way to cement stairs leading up. Behind those bars stood a man watching the trapped vampire.

Irene tucked her head down & rolled forward in the air, wings spread wide. She made them shiver a bit, causing vibrations as she hit the bars & landed in a pile. She sat there, hissing at her abductor.

"Whoa!" Arlin stumbled backwards & fell onto his arse three steps up. "Gees, are you ever fierce!" He picked himself up & came back down. "Will you calm down? I told you I'm not one to harm ladies."

"Then let me OUT!" Irene demanded, eyes glowing red.

"I will soon," Arlin said.

"I'll kill you."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will!" Irene threw herself at the bars again.

"Knock it off!" Arlin finally lost it. "You can't get through those. That's reinforced liquid steel never to be liquid again & even if you do get through, the walls of my basement are five feet thick solid cement & the door up those stairs is like the vault to Fort Knox that includes a password! This is the den room for my pack. There is no way out." They glared at each other, her still in red & he finally saw gold. "Put your wings away."

"Come in here & make me."

"Just put them away!"

"Why? Would you like that?" Irene all but purred.

"Don't do that."

"Tell me what you like," Irene tried again. "I'm sure we could come up with some kind of mutual agreement."

"Oh no, no, no," Arlin rolled his eyes.

"I could put the charm on you," Irene threatened.

"Actually, you can't. I've been immune to that for ages due to what you vampires once did to me," Arlin snarled.

Irene's whole demeanour changed. "I'm sorry," she said & sounded like she meant it. "I didn't realize you were raped."

"No!" Arlin buried his face in one hand. "I wasn't. Something else. Never mind. Save your whoring for the streets, you seducing witch. I have no use for you like that." Irene narrowed her eyes before letting out an unearthly shriek. Arlin clapped his hands over his ears, his delicate canine hearing causing him pain. He lowered his hands after she shut up. "You're worse than a feral vampire."

"Good!" Irene snapped, her temper back in full force.

Arlin glared at her. "Fine, be that way! I'm not going to keep you company. I thought I'd be a gentleman & hang out with you for a bit, but you can forget about that, now. You've got some blood bags in that fridge at the other end but once those run out, that's it! I'm not bringing you any more so I suggest you ration yourself." He stormed upstairs & Irene heard the great vault-like door bang into place. After a few beeps, she knew it was locked. Arlin threw himself onto the couch & put his head in his hands.

"Dad, are you alright?"

Arlin looked up. "Kyle, do not go downstairs," he began. "That vampress is crazy!"

"Well, you do kind of have her locked up for a bit," Kyle pointed out.

"I know," Arlin said. "It's just temporary. She's my back up plan. How's that Detective doing?"

"He's made a few attacks in London, just like you said he would," Kyle replied.

"Good," Arlin sighed. "The Undead Law should destroy him then, if that's the case. Then we'll get rid of Sherrinford."

"Why keep her, then?"

"Hopefully, it's only for a few hours," said Arlin. "I am quite sure the Undead Law will declare Sherlock Holmes unsafe & have him destroyed on sight, but on the slight chance he escapes somehow, I've got the current woman of his interest here as bait."

"But he doesn't like vampires," Kyle said.

"He's complicated when it comes to such matters," said Arlin. "But I know him. Irene is still a good friend of his & he will try to save her & then we can destroy him & after that, we let her go. It probably won't come to that. I expect Sherlock to be destroyed any moment, now."

Sherlock was not destroyed after all, but Arlin had his back up plan ready. After two days, he made his way into the basement once more. Irene had her back towards the gate, wings still out. As he came off the last stair, she turned & viciously screamed at him through clenched fangs.

"Ok," Arlin began in a low voice, lowering his hands from his ears. "It's ok. I've left you alone for a long time. I shouldn't have done that. I came to apologize." Irene turned & walked away. "Ah, the silent treatment. My ears thank you." He waited for her to reach the far end, near the fridge, before daring to slip his hands through the bars to slide a bag in. He stood away from the gate. "It's more blood & something more to eat. I have to hang on to you for just a little longer. Don't worry. You'll get out of this just fine, one way or the other. I didn't keep you for anything like that. I just need you for something." Irene began preening as if she wasn't listening. He watched her for another moment. Preening vampires had always mesmerized him. He turned & started up the stairs.

"What happened to Detective Holmes?"

Arlin came back to the gate. "His brother captured & buried him," he answered. "They're letting him dry out in the hopes that it would drain him of drugged blood. Unfortunately for me, they are correct." Irene blinked at him, slowly as if enticing him, before going back to preening. He went up the first two steps.

"You want me to attract him here," Irene said.

Arlin groaned & came back down. "You know, you could just talk to me while I'm standing in front of you. That's what I came here for."

"No, you came here to apologize," Irene said. "You still haven't. A bag filled with blood bottles & food doesn't cut it, after what you did!" She kicked the bag aside. Both heard a bottle break & blood began pouring out. "I've had time to think. You did something to Sherlock, didn't you? It's your fault he went barking mad! I still can't figure out why, though. Yet."

They stared at each other, each silently daring the other to speak again. Irene went back to preening. Arlin sighed. "Watson." Irene paused & looked up at him, peering over the edge of her right wing that was curled around her. "I'm Arlin Watson."

"Are you related to John?" Irene let her wings sweep back to press together behind her.

"Distantly," Arlin said. "I'm almost eight hundred years old."

Irene gaped in surprise at him. She moved closer to the vampric bars. "Something happened. Between you & Sherlock. A long time ago. Am I right?"

"Yeah, that ridiculous blood war," Arlin muttered. Irene remained silent & suddenly, Arlin realized something. "You don't know, do you?"

"I know what a blood war is," Irene said. "But don't know anything about one between Holmes & Watson. Besides, Mycroft's last testament to the Undead Law put an end to such things."

"Yes & the Watson pack fell through the cracks because of that!" Arlin stated. He sat down on the bottom step & began telling her about it. " ... I knew Micah & Mycroft had personal hate between each other, so I let Micah try to kill as many Holmes as possible. I feel really bad about what happened to Enola. She's the only one who doesn't deserve any of that. But her three brothers destroyed my entire life. Sherlock himself killed my firstborn son! Now, no thanks to Mycroft, I have to find a way around this ban on blood wars. I have always wanted to bring the Holmes men to their knees before I die but it took time to acquire the resources since my pack aren't even part of the Undead Law, any more. We're in hiding. Then I see Sherlock getting more & more famous with that detective work he does & then suddenly, the name Watson popped up. I followed those blogs like a new religion then & was surprised Sherlock didn't kill John just for being a Watson."

"He didn't even know he was a werewolf," said Irene. "Or know anything about the Holmes family or vampires. He was human. Everyone was in his mind."

"Yes & it's because the survivors of my pack went into hiding," Arlin said. "We were trying to stay alive. I'm sure there's more Watsons out there I will never even see because we ended up being completely cut off from everyone. That's why I'm immune now. I don't trust anyone outside my own pack enough to be beguiled."

"I am sorry about the blood war," Irene said. "But destroying Sherlock & Sherrinford won't bring any one back."

"I know it won't," Arlin said. "But justice must be done & I have new Watsons to watch out for. The Holmes can not be allowed to continue."

"What about Enola?"

"What about her?" Arlin muttered. "I told you, I don't harm women & anyway, she was the lover of my first son & he was not even the first Watson she was with. Our pack have been with the Holmes since before they became vampires, only they didn't know what we were until later. But Holmes & Watsons were always together in some way or another, until that blood war started. But Enola had no part in it & I'd rather not see her hurt."

"Right, because taking away her last two brothers won't hurt her at all," Irene said. "She was devastated when Mycroft was destroyed. They all were."

Arline closed his eyes for a moment. "That's a small price to pay." He stood up & Irene could see the tears. "I'll get some more blood bottles for you." He went up stairs without another word.

Over the next few days, Arlin started bringing Irene more & more treats along with extra bottles of blood. He told her more of the story every time & she seemed to sympathize with his plight. He started wondering if he could bring her up into the house. Just a little more to sway her & perhaps she would take his side. That would be an extra blow to Sherlock before destroying him, seeing a good friend & one-time lover turn fully against him. On the other hand, Irene could just as easily be playing him, as she played everyone to get her own way. He didn't trust her at all, but believed her when she showed empathy to his loss in the ancient war.

Posing as David, he met up with John randomly in a park & asked about how Sherlock was doing. He was mostly interested to know if the Undead Law would have Sherlock destroyed for what he had done under the influence, but it seemed like keeping Irene was a good idea after all. Arlin wasn't worried just yet. He had back up plans for his back up plans. One way or the other, Sherrinford & Sherlock will face their punishment sooner or later.

Whether it was a stroke of luck or providence, one of Arlin's contacts in the Secret Service happened upon Sherrinford's helicopter when the two spies were in close proximity to each other. A bomb was set inside. Arlin knew a vampire couldn't die this way but it would cause a lot of problems & make Sherlock come charging in like the hero he never claims to be. Odds were, he could catch at least one of them & use Irene to bring in the other. He stood by & watched the icy wings close slightly as Sherlock dropped like a falcon to his brother's aid.

Sherlock folded his wings & dived towards a pillar of billowing smoke & orange flame. He landed between the pile of twisted black metal, one & a half blades still spinning slowly in & out of sight through the fires, & the crowd that had gathered nearby. After quickly checking over the mess, he headed towards the woman reporting the story. Not caring that it was being broadcast, he stepped right into her camera's view, wings still full on display.

"Did you see anyone come out?" Sherlock asked. "My brother's helicopter. This can't kill him. He may have jumped out & flown way. His wings are like a Phoenix."

"Detective Holmes!" The woman gasped, glancing at his wings. "No, I didn't see anyone. I got here after it had already crashed."

"He wasn't in the sky," Sherlock looked up again as if it helped, but he couldn't see Sherrinford anywhere. He started back towards the downed helicopter. "Stay on this side," he ordered.

"Detective?"

"Just stay there!" Sherlock yelled back over the crackling flames. He put his wings away so they wouldn't catch fire. "Well, this is going to be unpleasant!" He jumped into the blaze & tried to find Sherrinford inside just in case he had been held in by the belt. Within a matter of seconds, he threw himself out & went rolling along the ground until he ended up in a pond. Sherlock stood up rapidly, the quick healing effect visual over his chest. He held up a hand as the reporter stared at him. "Not doing that again!" He coughed. "My brother is not trapped inside."

"Are you alright, sir?"

"I'll be fine," Sherlock shook himself, casting off some water. "Just a little smoked." He looked around the park land but Sherrinford was not to be found. He went back to the reporter. "Move everyone back. This thing could—" Both glanced around as two bangs were heard. Sparks began shooting upwards. "Vatican Cameos!"

No one needed to be told twice. People scattered in any direction that led away from the accident. Sherlock dived back into the water & sunk to the bottom. Looking up, he saw the surface turn orange for a moment & he both heard & felt the explosion. He swam to the far side & got out. Standing on the shore, Sherlock watched the wreckage burn as he tried to discern where his brother would have gone.

Something was thrown over him from behind, like a net. He was dragged down sideways & fell hard onto the ground. Instinctively, he attempted to open his wings, but it was too late. The uncomfortable feeling of mithril messing around with the liquid steel swept over him. The flesh on his back rippled like bubbles as the liquid steel desperately fought to get out, but it was no use. He stopped trying & felt his back go smooth once more. At the same time, he felt handcuffs of the same bothersome metal snap into place.

Sherlock managed to flip himself around to see who was controlling him. "Arlin."

"Did you & your brothers really think it was over?" Arlin grabbed Sherlock by the hair & wrenched him to his knees, making him cry out & extend his fangs.

Had this been John, Sherlock could have easily over-powered him even while being tied up with mithril. John was slightly stronger than a human, perhaps more like a Vulcan, but Arlin was a pure Lycan & much older than John. Sherlock needed his wings but they remained useless in their liquid state inside him. "Arlin," Sherlock gasped. "Don't do this!" He felt something sink into the side of his neck & knew no more.

Sherlock groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry & doubled. He had been drugged again, but with what was anyone's guess. He felt himself slightly hanging. His wrists were still bound by mithril & now above his head attached to a wall. The mithril net was still wrapped around his torso, separating him from his much needed wing control. He lifted his head from his chest to look forward, blinking a few times in an attempt to see better. The familiar face of an old friend turned enemy worse than Moriarty was staring back at him.

Arlin was sitting in an armchair, waiting for Sherlock to come to. "Welcome back to the land of the living," He said pleasantly as if this were a normal conversation over tea. In fact, he had a sip of tea right then. "Well, I say living ..."

Sherlock was still fuzzy but he managed to ask in a weak voice, "What have you done to me?"

"What do you think?"

"Clearly, I'm drugged," Sherlock said. "Again. It takes a lot of any drug to affect a vampire because of our superior healing power. So not only drugged right now, but probably on a drip. I can't see my arms but my right arm feels different from my left. I assume you have me hooked up to something."

"Good. In spite of everything," Arlin said. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Watsons are easily impressed."

"Perhaps," said Arlin. "Keep going. You've missed a lot. Think back. To the beginning."

"My beginning is not yours," Sherlock said. "I'm about three thousand years old & the Watsons of that age have long since been deceased. You're not even one millennium, yet."

"Not that far back," Arlin shook his head. "I mean around the time you & John got together. The first case you two worked on."

"The cabbie?" Sherlock raised a brow. He blinked hard, trying to focus, but his vision remained blurred. "He was human. He had nothing to do with us."

"No, but he & I both had a friend in common."

"Moriarty."

"Very good," Arlin said. He waited while Sherlock tried to work it out. "Can't get it? Do you want another clue? Ok, hmm, Irene." Arlin felt a sordid kind of pleasure when Sherlock's eyes went just slightly wider. "Oh, no. Not like that. She didn't even know I existed until quite recently. But she did something to you that took a while to wear off & she thought you human at the time." It was a rare moment when Sherlock was thoroughly confused. Arlin smiled. "Let's try one more thing. This is a spare room in my house were I live with my pack, most of my pack. Harry, John & the children aren't part of this. I live right behind Baskerville."

"I know," Sherlock interrupted. He felt a tremor go through him, not cold, but not right. The drug, no doubt. "John & Lestrade figured it all out & showed me. You're the Hound whose paw prints fell into legend & kept that place going for the tourists, even to this day. You've been experimenting with Lycan venom & ... drugs!"

"Aha!" Arlin clapped his hands together. "NOW! Let's try again, at the beginning."

Sherlock's mind was suddenly working in overdrive. "The pills the cabbie had. The death pill had Lycan venom in it."

"Exactly," Arlin said. "Had you swallowed it, you would have burst into ash & given the poor dear cabbie fright enough to cause a heart attack."

"You experimented with drugs & Lycan venom, creating all sorts of concoctions & added any old poison to it so that whoever else took the death pill would actually die before being turned into a werewolf. Your kind are like human kind & can be killed in just about any way imaginable."

"Yes, keep going."

"I would think you must have given that cabbie some sort of Lycan venom infused drug for him to be able to control me as well. I was weaker than a kitten in my own flat for a bit."

"Bingo!" Arlin nodded. "By the way, wasn't there someone else who managed to wipe you out by injecting you with something during her foreplay?"

Sherlock thought of Irene, the first time he had met her. She had stabbed him with something that had put him down for hours. She also once had connections to Moriarty. "You managed to produce a minute dosage of Lycan venom which knocked me out when Irene used her sex drugs on me. Oh, that was a wild one. What if she used it on someone else & they became Lycans? High risk. Very dangerous."

"No, it would have killed them. Vampires are only affected by Lycan venom. Other poisons don't matter to you but it would have killed others had she used that particular one on anyone other than a vampire."

"Making Irene a murderer in the process!"

"Does that matter? She is a criminal to begin with," Arlin said. "Of course, the poor girl didn't know what she was doing. She thought it was her usual aphrodisiac. She knew nothing of vampires or werewolves until Micah exposed you to her in a very different way than you liked to be exposed to her." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "By the way," Arlin went on. "When's the last time you visited a sex dungeon? It's kind of why I have you strung up the way I do. Thought you might enjoy it." Sherlock just groaned. Arlin smiled widely at him. "That's not a denial. But knowing you, it's probably been a while. You always tend to drift for long periods of time before preying on the next woman. Too bad Irene went vampire on you, hmm?"

"It was her choice."

"Your loss," Arlin said. "Again. Something tells me you like losing, especially to women. Ever since Elizabet." He pronounced her true name. Sherlock's eyes turned red at the mention of her name. "You know, it's a good thing she's dead."

"Enough!"

"If she saw you like this," Arlin ignored him. "Mmm-mm!" He shook his head.

"Stop it!"

"Fine," Arlin sighed. "Moving on. Next drug case, what happened?" Sherlock remained silent. "Aww," Arlin purred. "I thought you didn't have any feelings to hurt? I wonder if I can hurt them, again?" He leaned forward a little. "It's been three thousand years. Get the fuck over that bitch!"

He knew Arlin was saying things on purpose to rile him, but he didn't care. Sherlock fought against his binds so hard, he almost succeeded in pushing out his wings. He could feel blood running down his spine but though they cut his flesh, they just wouldn't come out. He bared all four fangs in a mad roar.

Unperturbed, Arlin just shrugged. "So much for not having any feelings. Now, what did you find at Baskerville? Oh yes, a very dangerous drug. One I have already figured out & been using for my own potions. It was easy getting that drug by just finding some buried plates in that hollow. Also, one of my pack works in there & would give me anything else I needed. She avoided the place during your case with that poor guy."

"So you ARE creating a new gun that could destroy us. You shot me with a mix of H.O.U.N.D. & Lycan venom!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Weaponized me. The Undead Law is still in an uproar about this weapon you have. Shoot a vampire with that but not in the heart, they will go crazy. When you are tired of their attacks, you shoot them in the heart & they'll turn to ash. How do you stop it from spreading, though? Lycan venom travels through the body to the heart. Oh!" He looked Arlin over as best possible as another bout of shakes rippled through his body. "You have an antidote. Something to make the venom inert so you can use it however you like."

Arlin nodded. "I've had almost seven hundred years to work on this. At first, I had to go looking for drugs & then Baskerville very conveniently showed up. I stole a few things from them until my daughter started working there."

"Rather genius, I must say," Sherlock said. "Like a double edge. Make us crazy or make us a pile of ash. Pick one, depending how you feel, since we're talking about feelings."

"That was my son's idea," Arlin said. "Make it a two-way kind of bullet."

"You want to destroy everything," Sherlock gasped. "Not only my brother & I but the entire Undead Law as well!"

"My pack is cut off from the Undead Law, no thanks to your family!"

"That's not true, any more. John fixed it."

"Does John even know what happened?"

"Yes, I told him everything," Sherlock was looking at Arlin in almost the same angry way he looked at Moriarty when he first claimed to be Richard Brook. "It's YOU who does not know! Micah is the one who ruined it all."

"Micah didn't kill my firstborn son," Arlin said, raising a finger to point at Sherlock. "You did that. Specifically you. Sundered him in two with your own wings!"

"Arlin, we didn't know at that time!" Sherlock was nearly pleading now. "I am beyond sorry for what happened. We all are! We didn't know until Mori—"

Arlin got up & punched Sherlock hard across the face. "I'm through listening to you. I will never forgive you or your brothers for what you did." He picked up the pendant resting on Sherlock's chest just above his dead heart & held the crystal in his hands. "I'm glad Micah destroyed Mycroft!" He yanked hard, snapping the golden chain, to pull the necklace away. He went to the window & opened it, then threw the thing out into the grass. Sherlock tried to concentrate on the trajectory. If he got out of this, he would get it back. Arlin came back to stand in front of him. "One less mess for me to clean up. The only one I won't touch is Enola. She is the only one who is innocent! Also, I hear she is pregnant. Perhaps a new line of Holmes will be born of her, free of the Watson blood stains you, Sherrinford & Mycroft will never wash clean of!" He went back to his arm chair.

"Arlin," Sherlock whispered, knowing the powerful canine hearing would pick it up anyway. He felt a single tear slip down his right cheek. "I've lost my firstborn, too, & my second & my third. All three of them. I understand that feeling, but I don't let it control me, or at least, not control me enough to kill others over them."

"You don't have others to kill over them!" Arlin shot back through angry tears falling from golden shining eyes. "You lived in the age when the pox wasn't known & killed man & beast alike. There was nothing for you to kill! So don't you dare compare us!"

Both fell silent for a long time. Arlin sat in his chair & put one hand over his face. Sherlock could hear soft whimpers & was reminded so much of John when Mary had been killed. But this time, he could not hold the distressed Lycan to his bosom & comfort him. He was tied by mithril to the wall, but even if he was free, he knew Arlin wouldn't allow it any more. "Arlin," Sherlock called to him after several minutes. "Finish me now. If anything I can do will help you & you think it's my destruction, then finish me. Right here, right now. Please."

"I can't," Arlin began. "Yet." He had some more tea in an attempt to calm himself, then put it on the table & leaned over so far in his chair that his hair sort of touched the floor. He slid out a vampric lance of black & left it lying on the floor between them, sharp tip pointing at Sherlock & the other end towards the chair. "I need you for a few more minutes before I destroy you."

"How did you get a ridge from Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded.

"I didn't," Arlin shrugged. "The lance is just painted that way. It's real color is not important so long as it isn't yours. It isn't, just so you know. Not Sherrinford's either. But I thought it would be a nice touch to make you think for a moment." He managed a smile & wiped away a few stray tears. "It was worth the look on your face." Arlin finished his tea & set the cup aside. He got up & moved close to Sherlock. "Now, before I destroy you, I need you to get your brother in here. You can tell him what's going on. He needs to come alone & he will come. He'll be charging in for you. Then, I'll destroy him right in front of you. I want you to lose everything before your turn comes. Then maybe, you'll know exactly how I feel."

"Just destroy me, now," Sherlock said. "I'm the one who killed your first son. I'm the one who delivered the first blow to the Watson pack. I'll take all the blame, but I won't tell Shane anything! You will never have us both."

"I thought you might say something like that," Arlin turned slightly & pointed to the opposite wall. A large TV screen was hanging there. He picked up a remote lying on the small table next to his empty teacup & pressed a button to turn it on, revealing the werewolf den underneath.

"Irene!" Sherlock gasped, first glad she was still alive but then suddenly worried if her destruction was as imminent as his own.

Arlin cast him a condescending smirk. "There's still love there. I knew it. You're so damned predictable." He held up the remote so Sherlock could see the key pad. Arlin's thumb was resting on one button. "Remember Baskerville? Drugs put into the air by walking on the ground? Well, I have also invented a Lycan spray." He pushed the button & a pale yellow mist began falling over Irene. She stopped preening & glanced around in surprise as the mist descended. "If she breathes enough of that in, she'll burst & not in a good way. Only you can stop it now. Sherrinford for Irene. Your brother for your lover. Oh sorry, ex-lover. Whatever."

Sherlock was once more fighting the mithril. "ARLIN!" He bellowed after a futile moment of struggling. "Hasn't there been enough bloodshed, already?! Please, stop this. Stop it now!"

"I'm not doing anything," Arlin held up his hands. "You're the one trying to fight it. Give me Sherrinford & I'll let her go. Hurry up! She's dying. She won't be able to breathe in much more. I'll even let you watch her pop off."

Sherlock snarled through gritted fangs. "Fine! I'll give you his number so you can call him for me."

Arlin pulled out his mobile. "Number first, then I'll turn it off." Sherlock shook his head in disbelief but told him. The moment Arlin finished dialing, he shut off the mist & then the TV. He tossed the remote onto the chair & held up the mobile for Sherlock to speak into it if Sherrinford answered.

There was a ticking sound as the helicopter lifted into the air. It was coming from under the seat. Sherrinford unhooked the belt & twisted around for a moment to look underneath. The helicopter bounced a little in the air but it didn't bother him. He was the only one in it at the moment & he had wings, anyway. It was a bomb & only five seconds left. He sat straight, aimed the chopper towards the land with some trees away from the streets, then opened the door & tipped himself out, spreading Phoenix-fire wings.

The helicopter burst into flame & a chunk of it struck Sherrinford's left wing, punching a hole through it. Sherrinford spun out of control as much as the machine did & both had a rather rough landing. The helicopter crashed in the area he had set it to but he slammed through trees & fell upon rocks on the other side of the park, his damaged wings spread out around him on either side. It took a few minutes to recover from the blow. He slowly got to his knees. Shoving torn membrane aside, he felt around for his mobile & called John.

"Some bastard blew up my chopper!" Sherrinford complained as soon as John answered.

"We know," John said. "I'm with Greg stuck in traffic. Almost there. Sherlock should already be there."

"My wing ripped," Sherrinford explained. "I crashed landed, myself. Somewhere. I'm not near the chopper."

"Alright, let us find you," John said. "Just stay put & concentrate on healing."

As he waited for both the healing to finish & for John & Lestrade to find him, Sherrinford pressed a finger to his left ear, as if listening to something. He stood up & stretched his wings as John appeared through the trees, followed by Lestrade.

"How is it?" John pulled the torn wing close to him. He could see the membrane repairing itself. It was almost finished.

"That looks quite wide," Lestrade glanced at the tear.

"It was a lot larger when part of the seat fell through it & set it on fire," Sherrinford said. The rip finally disappeared completely. "We have a problem."

"Let's wait for Sherlock," Lestrade said. "I thought he would be here by now but I can't find him, anywhere."

"That's the problem," Sherrinford began. "But it's ok. I have a plan." He held up his mobile. The three of them could hear voices, one being Sherlock. "I put a wire into his belt this morning when I went to check up on him. It's connected to my Blue-tooth as well," he pointed at his ear. "It only works one way. I hear everything but he can't. Sherlock knows. Now, we just have to wait for an opportunity to go get him."

They listened as Sherlock & Arlin exchanged words. Rather damning words for Arlin's case as everything was recorded. John both slightly laughed & rolled his eyes when Irene was mentioned as still being alive. "She always escapes," he said.

"Who's Ee lie za bet?" Lestrade asked.

John & Sherrinford exchanged a look, both hemming & hawing. Finally, John gave up. "That's how they said Elizabeth in Greek back then. Sherlock was married with children three thousand years ago. They all died in the smallpox plague."

"Sherlock has children?" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Had," Sherrinford corrected. "Three of them, the oldest was five. They all died. It was right around the time we became vampires which is why the plague didn't kill us."

"Wow!"

"Yeah, it's kind of messy," John said.

At last, the call they were waiting for came in. Sherrinford pretended not to recognize the number. "I'm sorry. Who is this?"

"Shane, I'm with Arlin," Sherlock said. "So is Irene. She's trapped here. Arlin will text you the exact address. You have to come alone. Leave John & Lestrade behind. If you don't come, he will destroy Irene as well."

"I'll come." Sherrinford hung up.

"You're not going alone!" Lestrade declared.

"No, I'm not," Sherrinford said. "I'm going ahead."

After explaining his plan, Lestrade & John agreed with him. Sherrinford would fly in while the other two took the car. Lestrade watched the wings stretch out as the vampire tested them. "I agree with Arlin, a little," he said, causing Sherrinford to stop inspecting his wings. "These blood wars are totally barbaric."

"We know," Sherrinford closed his eyes. Lestrade could see tears fall. "Arlin is to me like John is to Sherlock & Jacob was to Adrian. Our favourite wolves from the packs."

"Stuff like this is why I will never willingly become a vampire or a Lycan," Lestrade said. "To live so long, or even for eternity, only to witness & participate in horrors like blood wars & sinking ships. I'd rather die, completely. When my time is up."

"It is your right to choose," Sherrinford said. With a soft sigh, the wings dropped, points dragging in the water behind. "Blood wars were the way of life in ages past. Different times, different measures. No excuse." He put a hand on John's shoulder. "But thanks to this Watson & Adrian, such things are now banned." He spread his wings & shook off the bit of water from the ends. "See you there!" He flew upwards into the air.