Thank you for the reviews. Sorry for the late update, University is starting again, so I've been busy. Updates would be fortnightly from now on, so that I don't overwhelm myself. Here's a chapter which has some explanation of Sherlock Holmes' and Irene Adler's lives after their brief encounter as well as an Easter egg for another character while Seraphina is still in her mental breakdown. I hope you enjoy.
To tfuinsah, Seraphina's breakdown is basically caused because this is the first time she actually comes to terms with how alone in the new world she actually is. Sure, she thought she was stuck there since she was reborn, but once she discovered magic, some part of her had always thought that there was perhaps, a way back. She had some hope, which was what she clung to when she saw how terrible the exorcisms and her new world was. Then the veil took that last hope away from her. It's the complete loss of hope that sent her into her breakdown. It is much more painful and cruel to give someone hope before completely stripping that away than to leave someone without hope at all in the first place. I hope I was able to portray that previously.
As always, thank you for reading.
Chapter 24 Irene?A few miles away at 221B Baker Street
"Mister Holmes." A femine voice called out.
Said man looked up, his clear blue eyes scanning the woman in front of him. She was in her mid twenties, with a confident attitude. She was dressed in a dark grey ensemble, the large but tailored coat of an obviously Spanish style hiding her features. A large hat, moustache and age makeup took care of the rest of her femine face. It was impossible to tell that she was a woman, if not for the fact that Holmes had had her eyes imprinted in his mind from staring at her photo for so long.
"I never expected to see your esteemed self again-" Holmes said as a way of greeting. Seeing her shake head slightly, Sherlock tilted his to the side in acknowledgment of her silent plea, cutting off his sentence before he could reveal her identity.
She closed the door, taking out a music box from her purse and winded it up. "I do very much enjoy a bit of classical tunes. You must see this particularly fine specimen that my dear cousin, your esteemed sister in law, brought for me all the way from Bulgaria!"
Sherlock leaned forward in interest as the soft tune began playing. He watched as she approached him, taking with her the box, almost as if she was showcasing its mechanics, casually blocking the view of the window with her body.
In a very low voice Sherlock voiced his question. "Why have you come to visit me? You bartered very hard for your freedom. Why return to the place where you may be chained once more?"
"I need your help." She murmured back, seeing the slight twitch of his eyebrow, she elaborated. "Please. Our mutual friend got caught by the other world. They wiped his memory, but now they are after me and the merchant. Please. Europe is as dangerous as my house during the incident-"
The song ended, forcing Irene to pause as she swapped it to another track.
"Indeed, your music taste is impeccable! Tell me, is this from your homeland?" Holmes asked with an easy smile.
Irene smiled back politely, perfectly interpreting the hidden question. "I wish, but no, this is Austrian, a much less known piece by Mozart. I have heard that Austria is quite quaint, not suitable for me at all. The town has barely changed in the past century, from what I have heard. Unlike my hometown in the Colonies. Time seemed to fly there, so much has changed in the short few years I had been apart from it. It would be my deepest desire to return there."
Holmes laughed. "It sounds simply marvellous. Dear me, it is quite late now, would you like to stay the night? I am sure you may take the good doctor's old room. It has an excellent view of the moon."
Irene smiled. "Thank you."
Outside the house, two hit-wizards nodded at each other, certain that their target will be inaccessible and trapped for the night. Placing proximity wards onto the front door and anti-portkey wards over the house, the pair disapparated from the street with a quiet pop.
Three hours later, the full moon shone brightly through the open window, the silvery light landing perfectly onto a bare bed, a small breeze revealed a large white knot dangling at the window.
If anyone was awake, they would have seen an odd sight outside the house. A gentleman in his fifties was bent over in the garden, his black coat bending in perfectly with the shadows, sharply contrasted by the wisps of white hair peeking out from underneath his hat.
"Laying out a false trail, I see." A voice said behind him.
With a fineness that was very out of character for him, the middle aged man jumped, a pair of women's boots dangling in his hand. He turned around, and came face to face with another gentleman of a similar age, smoking a pipe as he leaned casually against the brick wall of the house.
"Don't you have anything better to do, Holmes?" The man hissed in a low voice.
Holmes took the pipe out of his mouth, quickly tapping the inverted bowl against the brick wall to get rid of the remaining spent tobacco before he pushed off the wall with a single foot. "You may drop the act, Miss Adler. The spies are gone, they are a neglectful bunch who will not miss our absence until the morrow."
Irene Adler regarded him cooly before sighing and replying in a much higher pitched voice, filled with steel, yet oddly out of place with her current disguise. "Very well, Mister Holmes. How do you suggest I shall make my grand escape in the middle of the night, then?"
Holmes' lips twitched upwards in satisfaction. He placed a finger in his mouth and gave a single sharp whistle. The sound, piercing and sharp in the night.
"Have you lost your mind? You will wake the whole street!" Adler hissed.
But Holmes only smiled, within seconds, the tell-tale clip-clop of hooves on the cobblestone street echoed. A sleek black horse trotted into view, drawing along a matching black carriage, pulling up in front of them. The driver tied the reins on the handle before jumping off. To Adler's surprise, the driver barely reached her chest, he tipped his hat at Holmes, revealing a shock of messy brown hair, dark, but startlingly cunning brown eyes which darted around rapidly, set in an obviously boyish face.
"Thank you, Wiggins. I trust that you have been discrete?" Holmes asked as he paid him three shillings.
The boy-Wiggins-tossed the coins in the air before pocketing them. "Yes sir! I did what you asked, the driver is currently at the pub getting a Brannigan with Billy an' John. By now, I'll bet you a shilling that he is so sozzled tha' he is arfarfan'arfing."*
"Very well. Thank you, Wiggins."
Irene Adler nodded in thanks before boarding the carriage.
"I suppose this is where we part once more, Mister Holmes." She smiled. "Thank you for getting your hospitality and for losing those spies for me." She turned to close the door, before it could swing shut, it came to a rapid stop, having been caught by Holmes' gloved hand. He yanked the door open to the surprise of Adler, and got inside. With a knock on the separator panel, the carriage gave a small jolt before moving, gently swaying as the horse trotted.
"I don't understand, Mister Holmes, why are you here? I am perfectly capable of riding a carriage by myself." She asked.
Holmes pressed his fingers together before scrutinising her with his oddly piercing gaze. Irene Adler lifted her head in defiance, not even barely flinching nor shrinking from his gaze. Finally, Mister Holmes broke the silence first, leaning forward slightly. "Miss Adler." He addressed her. "You have been running from the hit wizards for a fortnight during which you had almost no chance of sleep. A chase that led you from Italy to here through France then Spain, where you took a risk and blended in with a crowd of slave owners, who feared the current war currently in the South Americas would inspire rebellion in the slaves that they owned. That ploy did help you lose the hit wizards for a few days, however, being a woman on a ship filled with slave traders was not the safest idea. You came to me the minute you disembarked, unfortunately very soon caught up to by the wizards, leading to the elaborate lie with the music box your old flame, his majesty, got for you in thanks for your word. Did I miss anything?"
Adler looked at him unreadably before she leaned back and laughed. "Very well, Mister Holmes. Very well indeed. Pray tell, how long did it take you to come to that particular conclusion?"
"A few minutes after you walked in through my door. Your dishevelled appearance indicated many things, the slight perfume on your body was familiar to me, its presence, along with the wear and clear salt marks on your hair and clothing-which were obviously more prominent on your clothes-and the slightly caking of powder on your face indicated a long period of time where you had been unable to rest and refresh yourself properly. Together they told the tale of your long and most stressful run, involving a voyage. The only place that came to mind which had enough easily accessible water that clean would be Venice, Italy, indicating your most hurried departure from there. The perfume, I presume, is purchased or taken in an attempt to quickly hide the scent of salt on your body. Yet the scent is uniquely new to France, indicating your next location. Then came the jacket and hat. The style is obviously of a Spanish make, highlighted by the slight red in the shoulder, diagonally across to the hips. Yet it was very well worn, with scorch marks in places and roughly sewn together patches. These factors implicated a member of the Spanish nobility who had come upon hard times, where he had no lady to help him fix his clothing. Putting these together along with the current politics, I am able to deduce that he must be a Spanish slaver on the run. The sole reason why you would choose to trade your, as of the last time I saw you, quite fashionable jacket away would be to escape. It takes little to string the two together and figure out that you boarded a slavers' escape ship. You aimed to go to your friend, the merchant, in Austria whom you have high hopes that he would be able to save you from your pursuers without endangering your sister."
Adler was silent. She regarded Holmes evenly, with almost a conflict in her eyes. "Very impressive parlour trick. However, it still doesn't answer my question: why are you coming with me?"
"Because this is a most fascinating mystery." Holmes replied bluntly. "Miss Adler, a woman of your skills should have no trouble vanishing underneath anyone's eyes, even the wizards. Yet, you have been forced to seek my assistance. As a gentleman, I am honorbound to assist you in every way I possibly can. Not to mention my business has been very quiet in recent times, and the good doctor has no time to indulge me with his marital duties. You present me with a wonderful enigma, the perfect remedy to battle my lack of stimulation. Why would I refuse?"
Irene Adler looked at him before something clicked inside her mind. She smiled sweetly, a smile that hid daggers. She reached over and grabbed his hand, entwining his fingers with her own. "So." She purred. "You are on this…adventure, as you named it, only because you are bored?" She asked.
"Yes, quite." Holmes replied, staring into her eyes.
"Hmm." Adler hummed, almost thoughtfully disappointed. "Because your heart certainly has a fast pace for something as uncaring as battling boredom."
Hearing this, Holmes instinctively withdrew his hand, too quickly, he realised too late. The rest of the journey was silent, the two regarding each other the whole while, each sitting ramrod straight, almost like coiled spring, ready to be let loose at a moment's notice. It was in this position that Wiggins found them when he opened the carriage door.
"Sirs, we are here-" He began, oblivious to the atmosphere.
Instantly, like a spell was broken, Holmes and Adler snapped their heads towards him before quickly and consciously relaxing. Adler gracefully hopped out of the carriage, pushing aside Wiggins and interrupting him. Holmes' lips twitched in amusement before following suit. He gave Wiggins another two shillings, to his bafflement and joy, clamping him on the shoulder reassuringly.
"Wiggins, tell the Irregulars to help keep an eye out and report all back to me as soon as I return. I won't be able to pay you again until then. So consider this the payment for the next two weeks."
"Yes sir!" He nodded. Before enthusiastically hopping back onto the driver's seat of the carriage.
"One last thing, remember to place the driver back in his cab as far away from Baker Street as you can, will you?" Holmes called out after him.
"Yes sir!" He nodded and waved his hat in farewell.
"When is the next ship headed to the Americas leaving?" Holmes asked a man hauling cargo on board.
"In six hours." He replied, looking him up and down. "You gonna' try and catch an elopin' couple?" He asked.
"No." Holmes replied. "My dear lady friend, Irene and I are trying to reach the Americas. Quite urgently, I might add."
The man put down the crate and pointed to the left. "Follow the Thames upstream an' you will find good ol' Freddy. He'll take ya there."
"Thank you." Holmes nodded and left.
He walked in the direction upstream until a group of sailors passed by, hiding him from the sailor whom he asked direction from. With a quick removal of his hat, coat and tie, his appearance changed. It was subtle, while he remained physically the same, his soul changed. In that instant, he was no aged gentleman bartering for passage, he was a sailor. He blended in perfectly with the rest of sailors, his eyes telling the tale of sea-hardiness, the jacket slung over his shoulder so casually, it was a carelessness only found amongst a confident old sailor, who had held his own against too many storms to count to be intimidated by anything in the world. The slight swaying in his feet gave the perfect alibi to the time he spent on a ship, so much more than on land, that it seemed almost unnatural for him to walk without the sway of the water. Using the sailors as a cover, he turned back, sneaking discreetly into a warehouse, where Irene Adler was waiting for him, dressed in a different suit, her usually slender figure changing into the illusion of a much burlier one.
At first glance, she opened her mouth to tell the stranger to leave, however, it was then Holmes shed his disguise, letting the sea hardiness leave his very being, his soul, leaving behind the clever detective as naturally and as flawlessly as a snake shedding its old skin. Adler did a double take before smiling at him. "Mister Holmes." She smiled. "I would have sworn that you were someone else! I have known the stage my entire life, and can confidently say that most actors are a lot worse at acting than you are, it is a shame that you chose to solve crime as your career."
Holmes shrugged. "My partner Watson had made remarks of a similar nature. But I believe battling evil is where my talent can be best spent. So, have you found them?"
Irene Adler nodded and stepped aside, revealing a man and a woman sitting nervously on the floor, the woman already dressed in the suit Adler left in, and the pair of women's boots she had used to stamp prints in the garden with. The woman's eyes darted back and forth, while the man twiddled his fingers, muttering incoherently. Holmes looked at Adler. "And they agreed to your offer?"
Adler smiled. "Mister Holmes, there are very few things that cannot be achieved with a little…persuasion."
Holmes narrowed his eyes, his sharp gase met by Adler's own even one. After a second, he frowned. "Take the amulet off of them. This is not right."
Adler scoffed. "How is it not right? We are offering them a better life, a chance to restart their lives with the gold they mine for free. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain while we get what we need."
"They will be in danger."
"Not for long."
"What if they don't want to leave? What about their families?"
"They have none."
"Then if it is their desire, why don't you just ask for their assistance?"
"Mister Holmes." Adler snapped, her patience worn thing. "Do you know how dangerous it is for a woman like myself to talk to a homeless man? You have your methods and I have mine. Either you learn to respect it, or leave me alone. I don't require your assistance."
Holmes stared at her for a few seconds, neither wavering from their decisions. "At least let me talk to them."
"As you wish." Adler conceded coldly.
Holmes took the amulet off his neck, the minute it was off, the man blinked, before snarling and viciously attacking Holmes. He nimbly dodged the wild punches, landing one on his stomach, knocking him on his back and pinning him in place.
"Hello, fine gentleman." He greeted the struggling man, who eyed him suspiciously. "I have an offer for you which you may enjoy very much."
"Wha' do ya 'ant?" He spat.
"I would like your coat." Holmes said, much to the other man's confusion.
"I ain't givin' ya no coat!" He snarled.
"I haven't finished my offer." Holmes said, amused. "In exchange for your coat, I have a ticket for the Americas which departs in three hours. It was my great unfortune that I shall be unable to catch that ship. I am offering you this ticket, along with my hat, boots and coat. What says you?"
The man grinned, showing off his yellowed and uneven teeth. "You soun' despera'. I wan' bars. A hundre' of 'em." He paused, looking at Adler, gesturing at her with his chin. "And 'er."**
Hearing this, Holmes punched him in the face, knocking him out and calmly replacing the amulet over his neck.
"What, not bothering to talk to the woman?" Adler asked.
"There is a knife hidden in the folds of her skirt, judging from the crusted blood underneath her fingernails, and the redness around her wrists, she is most likely an escaped criminal who had killed her guard and been seeking passage to leave already. With that in mind, I have no need to waste my breath on confirming what I already know."
Adler tilted her head in acknowledgement before tossing him an amulet, which Holmes caught nimbly before sending Adler a questioning glance. In the split second the amulet was flying through the air, the man sturred, groaning. Then both he and the woman slumped back down like a puppet with its strings cut as soon as Holmes' fingers closed around the gold wiring caging the violet, rune covered rock. His eyes briefly flashing purple as he gained control over the man.
"Just in case you need it. My sister developed it, you know. It lets you control its 'pair' when you wear it, so you can make him act like you when they board the ship."
Holmes nodded, slipping the thin, gold spun chain around his neck. A small smirk crept up Adler's face, vanishing before Holmes could see it. She turned towards the exit. "I'll wait here while you get your attire sorted."
Six hours later.
An obviously sea-hardened but rich sailor tapped his foot impatiently at the dock, the noisy sound of merchants opening their stalls, getting ready for the new day echoing all around him. Blasted loudmouth Luke. Thought Freddy. The damn man just had to tell people my cargo ship is going to America, didn't he. Now I have to stay here until they show up! Stupid astrocrates! We are going to miss the high tide!
It was then the two men made an appearance. The taller one had an obviously fake beard and piercing blue eyes. The other was much leaner, if one looked closely, they could see what seemed to be long hair peeking out underneath her hat. Even in mens clothing, it was obvious that she was not a man. To top it off, the two looked around suspiciously before boarding, as if trying to be inconspicuous. Freddy snorted. This eloping couple obviously had some work to do, even if it was none of his business. His only business is to transport cargo…even when the cargo is, in fact, people.
"Ya got the dough?" He asked, nonetheless.
The man handed him sixty pounds, he licked his fingers before checking the notes, finally waving the two on board.
"Raise the gangplank! Start the engine! Double time if we are to make it out of here before to-morrow!" He yelled.
The sailors grunted in assent while the two passengers walked into the cabin, sitting down for a cup of tea. On the shore, in the far distance, two men were running, trying their best to get to the ship through the throng of merchants, only to be pushed two steps back every step forward they gained. They watched helplessly as the ship sailed away, slowly becoming a dot in the distance, the smoke trailing behind almost tauntingly.
Freddy sighed. Bloody aristocrats.
"This is surprisingly relaxing." Adler remarked, calmly stirring her tea.
"Indeed." Holmes replied, staring out the window as their seat rocked, causing their porcelain teacups to jingle against the saucers. "I guess we are officially on our way now." He remarked.
Adler hummed. "However, was it a good idea to let so many see through our disguises? Wouldn't the hit-wizards get suspicious?"
"My friend." Holmes smiled. "Most see, but they do not observe."
He stirred and drank his tea in companionable silence before asking, "So, who exactly are we meeting in Austria?"
"We are meeting Abdul Bahl, or as you like to call him, the merchant, and his employer."
"Employer?"
"Occasional." She replied. "He helps him with his connections to stay out of trouble while Mister Bahl sends his products where his connections have yet to reach."
"His name?"
"Many know him by many names, but he is generally referred to as the Professor. Mister Bahl likes to call him his good friend Moriaty." She replied, wincing as she badly suppressed a yawn.
Holmes stood up. "Now, I will leave you to get some rest. While I get some air." With that he opened the compartment door, walking out into the train corridor, muttering. "I just hope there's no murder on the Oriental Express."
"Mister Bahl!" Adler exclaimed, grabbing his hand tightly, "I am so glad that you are alright."
Abdul Bahl nodded, patting her hand with his own. Even without the chance to clearly observe him previously, Sherlock Holmes could tell that he had rapidly lost a lot of weight. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, his face an unhealthily sallow. Even with his thick black beard and black turban, a frown can still be seen clearly on his face.
"Yes." He replied with a slight accent. It was not one of a specific country, but one of a man who travels so often that almost every country on Earth has become his mother tongue. "I am also glad to be alive. I am not unhappy to see you, but why are you here?"
"The hit-wizards are catching up with me, I have been running from them with the help of my acquaintance. Please, Mister Bahl, I need the Professor's help. I need him to help me the same way he helped you years ago."
Bahl quickly drew back his hand, his already sallow face going even paler, taking on an ashy brown tone. "No! You don't need his help! Just go, leave. Pretend you were never here-"
"Pretend who was never here?" A crisp, drawling voice asked.
The three people turned around, Bahl's face lost the remaining little colour it had. He quickly stood to attention, bowing until his back was parallel to the ground before rising. "Sir."
A slow, rhythmic tapping sound echoed within the room. Soon, a man in his late fifties appeared. He is extremely tall and thin, his forehead domes out in a white curve, and his two eyes are deeply sunken in his head. He is clean-shaven, pale, and ascetic-looking, retaining something of the professor in his features. His shoulders are rounded from much study, and his face protrudes forward, and is forever slowly oscillating from side to side in a curiously reptilian fashion. He peered at Holmes with great curiosity in his puckered eyes. Almost unwittingly, Holmes took a step back. Even without the chance to analyse this man in front of him, Holmes could feel the wrongness wafting off the man, instantly disliking him.
"Professor, we need help that only you can provide-" Irene Adler began, relieved, only to be cut off by Sherlock Holmes.
"Help like the decimation of the 501st squad in the Indian Police force which bound Mister Bahl there as a glorified slave? Help like the hand that landed you into this mess in the first place?" Holmes asked, much to the shock of both Adler and Bahl.
The professor only smiled, slowly clapping as he circled Holmes, inspecting him the exact same way an eagle observes a particularly interesting prey. His puckered eyes blinking as he took in more details in his circulation. Finally, he stopped in front of Holmes, staring into his eyes, appearing to be trying his best not to poke Holmes in the head with curiosity. "I must say, I have met many manner of men in my career but not yet any as blunt as you. Pray tell, what is your name?"
"Sherlock Holmes." Adler interrupted before he could give a fake name. "He assisted my escape from the hit-wizards."
The professor's eyes, upon hearing this piece of news, seemed to light up, an odd sort of respect for the man in front of him growing. "You have less frontal development that I should have expected," said he, at last. "It is a dangerous habit to finger loaded firearms in the pocket of one's dressing-gown."
It was then Bahl noticed him reaching for his gun in his pocket and gasped, his wand slipping into his hand. Sighing, Holmes pulled it out and placed it onto the table. The professor still smiled and blinked, but there was something about his eyes which made Holmes feel very glad that I had it there. At that moment, Adler pulled Bahl to the side, the two of them out of earshot from Holmes and Moriarty, but still within their sight.
"You evidently don't know me," said he, with a disappointed frown on his face.
"On the contrary," Holmes answered, "I think it is fairly evident that I do. I can
spare you five minutes if you have anything to say."
"All that I have to say has already crossed your mind," said he.
"Then possibly my answer has crossed yours," I replied.
"You stand fast?" His smile hardened, the cold glint in his eyes foreign to Holmes, yet somehow reminding him that he had finally met his equal match in intellect.
"Absolutely." Holmes replied.
The professor leaned forward. "I have a…preposition for you."
"Work for me for the rest of your career, trace my business and anyone who had been going against our rules and you shall receive the protection you so desperately sought."
"You seek to employ myself in your miscellaneous endeavours which endanger and harm innocents on a daily basis?" Holmes replied coldly. "You evidently don't know me either."
"But I do know you, Mister Holmes." The Professor smiled. "It is precisely of your nature that I believe you will take my offer…See here, I am literally the only chance of keeping your friends, your partner, a doctor Watson, I believe, a certain Mrs Hudson, and the lovely Miss Adler here, safe. I will even forget the little…tresspasses you have committed against me."
Holmes stiffened at the mentioning of his friends. He glanced at Irene Adler, who was talking to Bahl in hushed tones. Noticing his glance, she looked at him briefly. Her brown eyes flashing violet. The exact col In that instant, Holmes gave in. He will not sacrifice everyone whom he cares about because he is stubborn.
"One week." He bargained.
"Twenty years."
"One month."
"Fifteen years."
"Three months."
"Ten years."
"Six months."
"Six years."
"One year."
"Five years."
"Five years and I walk free and unharmed in the end."
"Very well, Mister Holmes. You have yourself a deal."
As they shook hands, Holmes couldn't help but feel like he had just made a deal with the Devil.
Unbeknownst to him, the violet amulet around his neck glowed sinisterly, the glow perfectly reflected in Irene Adler's eyes.
A few months later
"Ah, there you are, Mister Holmes. How nice of you to join us!" Professor Moriaty greeted him cheerfully, as Adler sipped her tea.
"What need have you of me this time." He asked.
"Why, can't I just enjoy your companionship, or miss our verbal sparrs?"
Holmes gave him a cold and unimpressed look. To which he sighed and added an ungodly amount of sugar into his tea. The silverware clinking against the fine china cup.
"I need you to track down our dear mutual friend, Mister Bahl, whom, in paranoia, fled my services with some things which do not belong to him. I need you to track him and bring them back here." He said, sliding an envelope across the table. Holmes snatched it up disgruntledly, opening it, seeing his pistol, and a stack of bank notes.
"And Bahl?" He asked.
The professor waved his hand dismissively. "He has lost his value now. His cowardance must be punished one way or another. Dispose of him if you will. Bring back his wand as a trophy, if you will."
He stood up from his chair, moving towards a portrait. Finding the hidden switch at the corner, he clicked it, causing the portrait to rise up with a small twang as the spring released, revealing a wooden cabinet behind it.
Adler stifled a small gasp as she saw the wall. The wall was covered in dozens of wands, of all shapes and sizes, almost all of them had small spatters of blood on their wood. There was no doubt what happened to their owners.
Afterall, a magical would never willingly give up their wand.
"I believe Mister Bahl's wand would fit in perfectly right here." The professor mused.
Holmes turned abruptly and stormed off.
"Remember your vows, Sherlock Holmes. I am sure your dear friend Watson would like to keep his head exactly where it currently is." The professor called out after him tauntingly.
Sherlock Holmes POV
It was not difficult tracing down Abdul Bahl.
The man left trails so poorly hidden, that even the magical police -aurors- could follow him easily.
But I did not wish for him to join the dead. He might have been a runaway soldier, but the desperation which drove him to enter Moriaty's service is one that I am familiar with, now.
We are both unwilling pawns in someone else's game. A game of shadows.
I walked up the old steps wobbly in my drunk beggar's disguise. There was no point in risking someone recognising me, whether magical or not. I stumbled forward towards the doorstep, loudly humming off-tune. The air shimmered in exactly twenty-one places, as if there were large flames brewing underneath. A look in the grass and cobblestone confirmed my suspicions. There were small puffs of white dust on the cobblestone directly underneath the shimmer, and indents in the shape of shoes on the grass, shifting slightly as the team of aurors moved. The size and weight tells the tale of twenty-one men in their prime. Arrogant in their abilities due to their experience and success. So this is the famed and feared Austrian Auror force, led by Gustav Grindelwald, an Auror known for his ruthlessness and absolute prejudice against any spells he considers dark. Their intentions flashed in front of me, like pieces of letters floating in midair as I purposefully made contact with where their eyes should be. Their intention to ambush and attack Bahl, their disgust of the need to delay because of me, the drunk who was stumbling in their path. One can't help but feel disappointed at their inability to even fully hide themselves in a street filled with shelter. Truly, they must be morons to not notice the racket they were making. There were slight sparks of magical discharges, barely there flashes which vanished as quickly as they appeared around the waist of each I knocked on the door, within seconds, the familiar terrified face of Abdul Bahl appeared. His eyes were sunken with dark eye circles, a slight musky odour drifted out from inside the house. His nails had little irregular triangles. He must have bitten through them. There were dark brown dots on the edge of his coat and pants, mud stains, no doubt from landing in an inopportune location after apparating.
"Could ya spare a copper, or an ale?" I asked with a smile, my fake rotted teeth clearly displayed.
"No, no. I'm sorry. I am in difficult times myself. Whomever told you that I had money was telling a fib. I'm sorry." Said he, trying to close the door in my face.
"Come on, mate! I'm tired. An' starvin'! Cut an old man some slack, will ya! Besides, the, uh, the tavern guy sent me. He even gave me a note!" I said, catching the door with my foot. From my pocket I pulled out the note that I had prepared in anticipation of this exact situation.
Let me in. I am Sherlock Holmes. Irene Adler sent me. I am trying to save your life. Spies are watching.
From the situation, even a blind man would be able to tell Irene and Bahl harboured a close friendship. One that Bahl had hoped to become something more. Irene obviously knew about this admiration, even if she did not act much on it. I hoped by using her name, he would trust me more. He drew in a startled breath, his eyes drifting down to where the amulet that Irene gave me laid underneath my clothes before nodding. With a shaking hand, he opened the door. I stumbled inside and he slammed it shut.
The interior was of marble. The very image of rapid repair after decades of disuse. It was old and very run down, yet, it resembles Lestrange Manor. The childhood home which I had no hopes of ever setting foot in again.
"H-how did they find me? How are you going to help me? I'm dead. I'm dead, dead, dead!" He paced.
"Will you please shut your trap and listen!" I snapped.
He froze.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Now, Mister Bahl. Moriaty has yet to find you. The aurors on the other hand…well, you apparated directly into their jurisdiction. They spent no effort in tracing you down-"
"How could I have missed this?!" He exclaimed, panicking, interrupting me. He waved his wand, packing all his belongings as quickly as he could. I grabbed his wanded arm, twisting it behind his back and forced him onto his knees, he gave a startled yelp before he finally stilled.
"Now that you are calm." I said. "You will listen to me before interrupting."
He frantically nodded, I loosened my grip so that he was no longer in pain, letting us assume sitting positions on the floor.
"Good. Now, as I was saying, the aurors have successfully tracked you through apparation and were about to attack when I stepped in just now. There is no time for you to run, so here's what I suggest you do. Transfigure yourself into a statue and a random object into the semblance of your hand, both common enough to not be noticed nor taken away as evidence in this house, I will require a pint of your blood to create the illusion of your tragic splinching accident caused by an improperly made transportation device. You will, however, need to leave your wand here to leave a false trail for the Aurors to find."
"What about you?" He asked.
"I will be the alibi to your situation, playing the drunk man who accidentally witnessed a violation of the Statue of Secrecy."
He paused before nodding. Reluctantly, he pulled out his wand. It was a dark piece of wood, with strange, decorative carvings on the base. He looked at me again. "I want proof of Irene's trust in you. Show me the amulet."
I complied, pulling the amulet out. He reached over, brushing his hand over the runes, smiling as it glowed softly. He grabbed the amulet and gently pressed a kiss against it, murmuring something I did not understand. "आई लव यू, आइरीन।."***
Then abruptly, he stood up, turning to grab a statue, one of many, his back towards me. An odd sense of unease filled my being, I took a precaution, and moved away, just in case.
"I'm sorry Mister Holmes." He murmured, as a dark red spell hit where I was standing a second ago.
I jumped up and ran. Of course the person whom's life I was trying to save just had to betray me. I dodged his spells, not letting him out of my sight. Suddenly, I froze. Even though I was certain that I wasn't hit by any spell. I tried to move my legs, but they did not respond to my command. It was as if I was trapped inside my own body. An odd thought entered my mind, why should I try to run when there is no point? Bahl smirked and casually walked towards me, his eyes had an oddly familiar ring of violet around the iris.
They looked like Irene's eyes. The amulet! I realised with a start. It was no simple one-way device. The controller of mine is currently in Bahl's hands. A pang of pain rippled through my chest as I realised the implication.
Irene Adler had betrayed me.
"Mister Holmes, did you really think that Miss Irene would trust you?" Bahl drawled. "I'd admit, you had a good plan, however, you are ill equipped to play in the Professor's game, I'm afraid." He shook his head. "Too trusting. And expecting the world to be as fair as you."
He flicked his wand, pushing me backwards into another room. My back hit a cold wall painfully. I was in some sort of cupboard. Then I noticed the doors. Foot long sharp spikes poked out of them. The cold chill of dread gripped my heart.
An iron maiden.
"I am sorry, Mister Holmes, but you have become a liability, a compromise to my continued survival. Goodbye Mister Holmes." He said, he slammed the doors shut with a loud clack. The spikes, just poking against my clothes as a heavy metal muzzle wrapped around my mouth, effectively silencing all noise I might make. Then his grip around my mind vanished. I immediately sagged, barely holding myself up in time not to get impaled. Then a small rectangular slot opened in front of my face, and Bahl's face appeared.
"Don't worry, Mister Holmes. The spikes will only grow a quarter of an inch a day when I activate it in a moment. So you still have a whole day left to write your will…if you don't run out of air. I suggest you get starte-"
It was then the front door was blasted open, multicolour spellfire shot into the room. Bahl swore before slamming the visor shut. The metal bounced. I took the split second to rip off the amulet Irene gave me, ignoring the burn of the string whipping as it snapped around my neck, tossing it and lodging it in the gap just before it could close completely, giving me a window to see the world and a source of fresh air so that I won't suffocate.
There were many shouts, and exchange of spellfire. The dust from the broken in door drifted into the room I was in, fogging up air with marble dust. Yet from my perspective, I could see Bahl hiding behind the wall, waiting for the Aurors to move forward again. Really, do the idiocy of those Aurors know no bounds? The lowered visibility in an unfamiliar environment only acts in Bahl's advantage. They are damaging all discriminating evidence and marching to their deaths! They have magic! Could they not have just vanished the door?
Then the first auror emerged from the dust, holding his wand in front of him. Bahl spent no time in casting a severing curse, removing his head from his neck. The sound of the collapse of his body attracted the rest of the team's attention.
"Hohenstein, geht es dir gut?" Someone asked. (Hohenstein, are you alright?)
Hearing no reply, they moved towards where I was. I heard their footsteps getting louder as they advanced towards the room where we were. The first pair of black loafers appeared through the dust, entering the room. Before he could react, he was quickly hit by a brilliant green curse, no doubt joining the first Auror, departing from this world. Then chaos erupted.
One of the remaining Aurors – no doubt the leader – gave a shout, a was a loud explosion, the room shook from the impact. I ducked slightly to avoid getting the dust into my eyes. When I looked back up, the wall was destroyed. The room was now completely exposed to the entrance hall. Then dozens of spellfires erupted, a few of them the same brilliant green, with a few bright scarlet and other colours. Bahl didn't have a chance to hide before the first spells started raining on him. He conjured some sort of shield, making some of the spells bounce back into the Aurors, he yelled something in another language that I did not understand, before waving his wand wildly, in what looked like a symbol – the structures were somewhat familiar, like I had seen them before – it took me a few seconds to recognise it as vaguely Indian, similar to the containers for shipments of opium. A sickly yellow light exited his wand. It hit another Auror in the chest. Instantly, the spell began chewing through his clothes, like a bad dosing of acid. The man went down screaming as horrendously, his body seemingly leaked through the growing hole in his chest, liquifying and slowly spilling out. Another Auror gave a cry of alarm before they attacked Bahl, redoubling their effort. Bahl was a skilled dueller, however, he was slowing down, no doubt tiring, and not in top form. Beads of sweat formed and dripped down his brow. He soon made more mistakes, allowing the Aurors' spells to slip through his defences, tattering his clothing.
Finally, when he dodged to avoid another of the green spells, a bright blue spell hit his torso. The moment the spell hit, a small explosion rocked the room. A small amount of gore flew through the cracks, landing with a wet splat on my muzzle. I resisted the urge to shake the disgusting object off and give myself away. The Aurors would either obliviate me as a muggle, or kill me if they thought I was his accomplice, neither a desirable option. I looked through the window once more. Bahl was wheezing on the floor, coughing up blood and black gunk. His eyes met mine across the room, in that instant, I could see his fear and dread of death, and the knowledge of his inevitable demise across his mind. Then something changed. There was a renewed determination…and a strong need for vengeance. He looked away as loud footsteps approached. Dread built inside me. It would be disastrous if his plan came into fruition.
A commanding man with dark hair, high cheekbones and dark blue eyes walked towards Bahl. A small pocket watch with a highly polished golden chain hung out of his pocket, which had a very fresh hole, no doubt obtained in the brief melee, inside was a photo of a woman with warm eyes and very light hair, yet even through the photo, there seemed to be an air of mischievousness to her, even as she was sitting regally in a dress of a much older fashion, maybe a decade past. I looked to his left hand, sure enough, there was a golden band around his ring finger. A photo of his wife, then. He looked down before him with a look of disappointment in his eyes, yet his face remained stony, as if inspecting a specimen so very much beneath him that he cannot even fathom its existence. He had an air of command, one that came only from years of responsibility and strict discipline. There was no doubt that this man was Gustav Grindelwald. Then he opened his mouth to speak.
"Abdul Bahl, Sie haben mir das Leben vieler guter Männer gekostet. Sie haben das Recht zu schweigen, während wir Sie im Namen des österreichischen Ministeriums verhaften." Said he. (Abdul Bahl, you have cost me the lives of many good men. You have the right to remain silent while we arrest you on behalf of the Austrian Ministry)
Bahl looked at him as he wheezed and slowly nodded. From my perspective, I could see him reaching for something. As Grindelwald got up and turned to go, many things happened at once, an auror moved forwards to bound him. In that brief second before the auror could react, Bahl pulled a small, palm sized black stone out, breaking it as he yanked on the auror's hair. He gave a shout of alarm, instantly causing Grindelwald to turn back around, a spell already on his lips. But it was too late. Bahl cut his finger, dripping blood onto the stone even as a red bolt of light arced towards him. Bahl yelled out something that sounded ancient. Even without knowing the meaning of the words, I could physically feel the power they carried, even as Grindelwald's red spell hit his arm, almost making him drop the stone.
"Bombarda!" Grindelwald boomed, as the other aurors began raising their wands, too slowly.
Bahl raised the stone as he shouted the words, just in time for the bright sapphire spell to hit it. For a second, it seemed to absorb the spell, glowing brightly in an ominous red glow. Then it exploded. A wave of pure malicious power poured out, knocking everyone back in a blinding light, as if it was a second sun. I ducked down as the light reached my eyes like pinpricks, resisting the urge to shout in pain in risk of discovery. When I looked through the window again, the stone in Bahl's hand had disintegrated into dust. Bahl looked at his fingers, where the stone had been just a second ago, not a single trace of the oppressive power remained. He laughed maniacally at the sight, allowing the dust to sieve through his fingers, even as two red spells hit him, resulting in deep gashes in his chest, pushing him down onto the ground and removing his head.
With Bahl's death, I felt the metal muzzle slide off my face. I grabbed it before it could land and cause a racket, the rustling of fabric luckily remained undiscovered in the shock.
"Grindelwald!" The man who had moved to bound the now decapitated Bahl exclaimed in shock as he picked himself up from the floor.
Grindelwald seemed to be in a state of shock. Grief was written over his face. The pain, evident. At the sound of his name, he seemingly snapped out of his trance, all emotions immediately hidden behind his stony expression once more.
"Ich habe dich vor einem viel schlimmeren Schicksal als dem Tod gerettet. Sei dankbar, dass ich es getan habe." (I saved you from a far worse fate than death. Be thankful I did.) He snapped harshly, his voice raw. "Durchsuche jeden Raum. Jetzt!" (Search every room. Now!)
The team instantly moved. Soon, I was left alone with Grindelwald. Now away from his team, and to his knowledge, alone. He sighed, the stern and stony mask slipped away as he stood still. Slowly, he picked up his pocket watch, with a flick of his wand, he fixed the broken clasp and kissed the photograph gently. It was a very intimate move, one that sharply contrasted the battle that occurred here not too long ago. He gave another venomous glare towards Bahl's corpse, kicking his head away in disgust before pacing, by chance towards me, allowing me to catch his words. A plan hatched in my mind, I needed to leave before they discovered me, and Grindelwald was providing me with the perfect opportunity.
"Es tut mir leid, dass ich nicht schneller war, Leyna. Es tut mir leid, dass ich dich nicht auch retten konnte." He murmured. (I'm sorry I wasn't quicker, Leyna. I'm sorry I couldn't save you too.)
As he walked near the Iron Maiden, I slammed the door open. In his emotional distraught, he had put his wand away, leaving himself vulnerable. Briefly distracted by the pain, he was knocked to the floor as I ran. At his shout of alarm, footsteps came rushing down the steps. I glanced around the room. There was a sliver of light streaming in from behind a tapestry. A hidden window.
I skidded on the blood, ducking as his spell arced over my head. Using the momentum, I picked up Bahl's bloodied wand. Leaping over his corpse, I jumped through the window, shattering the glass as the aurors arrived.
I hit the grass rolling. Leaping up, I ran, the aurors chasing behind me. I ran towards the market in the small town, blending into the crowd. As I walked, I tucked the filthy wand into my waistband and discarded my false beard. Taking off my tattered hat, I tossed it to the side, soon to be unrecognisable under the trampling feet. I ruffled my hair. I took off my coat, turning it inside out, the black starkly contrasting the previous worn grey. I took a fancy bow tie out of my hat, slipping it over my head. I turned a corner and stopped slouching. My disguise now is one of a perfect gentleman. Looking behind me through a glass window, I saw the aurors pass by, not one of them recognising me.
I left the town the next day. Moriaty would have, no doubt, heard of Bahl's death by now. I had little time to return before he decided to turn his men towards the Watsons. With a heart heavy with Irene's betrayal, I headed to his headquarters, the grief-stricken face of Grindelwald not once leaving my mind.
*There are many Victorian slangs in this, so translation: the driver is currently at a bar getting a drink with Billy and John. By now, I'll bet you a twelfth of a pound that he is so drunk that he is speaking nonsense.
**Bars are a late 1800s slang for pounds. The homeless man wanted money and Irene Adler. For the record, I do not support human trafficking in real life.
***I love you, Irene.