Holmes vs Dracula, pt 4. 221B x 3.

Camden House does not greatly distinguish itself from the other houses on Baker Street; its chief advantage is the excellent view it commands of my own sitting room window. Our quest has ironically brought us full circle, and taught me the true depths of my archenemy's cunning.

I stand hidden in the deep shadows of 216's area, flanked by Watson and the ragged urchin who finally tracked us down only an hour ago, gasping out his report of having followed a large bat through the streets and back alleys the night before, until at last it flapped its way clumsily through a broken lower window of this abandoned dwelling, not two doors along from our present hiding place. According to my sources, Moriarty's preferred form when travelling is a thin mist, all but undetectable even to those who know what to look for; I can only surmise that my nemesis was too badly hurt or distracted to think of doing so after his encounter with Watson. It will be his last mistake.

My chief concern is that, once again, time is growing perilously short - only twenty minutes remain before sunset. However, Baker Street seems all but deserted now, thank heaven, and I believe I may safely venture forth with my parting gift to the Count. I care nothing for my own arrest, of course, should it come to that, but Watson... the least breath of scandal attaching itself to my friend's good name is unacceptable to me, even now. Better that he remains on guard here, keeping our young friend from the worst danger.

With a final earnest warning, Watson boosts me up to shoulder height, allowing me to clamber easily over the railings and slip down the narrow path between the two houses. The rubbish-filled yard between the houses of this street and Blandford is overlooked by numerous dust-covered windows; I can only pray that none conceal inconvenient watchers...

And there it is: the back door of 220... Just as the boy said, the lower bedroom window has a gaping hole in the glass, little flakes of peeling paint lying beneath, freshly knocked from the ledge. My heart thuds painfully in my breast as the realisation crashes over me: the creature is here. At long last, I have found him, and one way or another, the game will end tonight.

The back door is locked, of course, and I simply do not have time to waste in picking the lock. However, fortune favours the well-prepared. With hands that tremble despite my best efforts, I reach into my coat and delicately remove the jar of calcium oxide, hastily purchased from a nearby pharmacy, and my handkerchief. All I need now is water, provided by a drainage channel at my feet.

Gingerly, I tie the dripping handkerchief around the mouth of the jar and, breathing a silent prayer, hurl the vessel through the broken window at the far wall. The glass shatters on impact, water-heated quicklime immediately igniting the long ribbons of wallpaper hanging down, the entire wall engulfed by hungrily licking flames in a matter of seconds.

"Fire!" It may be counterproductive, but I have to give any unsuspecting residents of this area fair warning to get out while they can. I strongly doubt Moriarty will hear any warning shouts from his coffin until much too late...

The bedroom is now fully ablaze, the blistering heat starting to crack the window's remaining glass. I must return to Baker Street before the outer wall is consumed and prevents my escape.

But when I emerge back onto the street, Watson and the boy are gone from the area, there is no sign of them anywhere. Calmly now, no sense in panicking, perhaps Watson thought it best to take the boy across to the flat... then my eye is caught by something on the pavement, gleaming under a newly-lit gaslamp, which turns the blood to ice-water in my veins: a broken string of rosary beads.

A/N: Whew, and there was me thinking the adventure was coming to an end! Maybe next time... ;)

For those who can't be bothered using google, quicklime (calcium oxide) could easily be found at any well-stocked chemist. It isn't flammable itself, but when it comes into contact with water, it heats up to about 300F, so anything flammable it touches is going to go up like a torch. Victorian napalm, anyone?