Holmes vs Dracula pt 6 - conclusion

(221B x 3)

For every case of Holmes's there is always an aftermath: awkward moments and white lies to irate authorities – something of an anticlimax after all the excitement of the chase, and usually best left to a reader's imagination. Still, the public may someday be ready for the true story of the Final Problem...

Lestrade gratefully sipped his chamomile tea, looking around the hastily straightened kitchen with new eyes. "Mrs. Hudson will be all right, won't she, Doctor?"

"Perfectly, Inspector, although she did rather exhaust herself." Watson gave Holmes his cup with a pointed look, the detective mercifully choosing not to argue this time. "I'm sending her to her sister for a few weeks, it'll do her good to get away from London for a spell." As Holmes's face fell, he added, "Which reminds me, old fellow: pack your bag, I'm under strict instructions from Mary not to come home without you."

Lestrade nodded sagely as Holmes reddened. "Give the workmen time to set the place to rights, eh?" The Inspector smiled sheepishly at the pair. "My apologies, gentlemen, Scotland Yard'll pay for any repairs."

Holmes shook his head. "No need, Lestrade, the bill can go to Mycroft. Just make sure that damned coffin gets taken down and burnt, will you?"

Watson gripped Holmes's shoulder sympathetically as the detective shuddered. "One thing I don't understand, though: why in heaven's name did Moriarty dissolve like that?"

Lestrade shrugged modestly. "Well, I damn near twisted my ankle on Mr. Holmes's broken rosary out there. Gave me one hell of a fright – what if you two were in the burning building? Then Mrs. Hudson screamed, so I told Captain Shaw to open the tank..."

Watson stared. "You put rosary beads in the water tank?!"

Lestrade nodded, grinning as his colleagues started to laugh. "Giving us a few hundred gallons of instant holy water!"

Holmes wiped his eyes, gasping for breath. "Bravo, Lestrade!"

"Indeed," Watson chuckled. "Inspector Lestrade, vampire slayer! It has a nice ring to it, I must say."

Lestrade shook his head firmly. "No more of the supernatural for me, thanks; I'll stick with the arrestable criminals from now on." He sighed. "I just hope no one asks me for a report!"

Watson looked Holmes over in deep concern as they drove to Kensington. His friend was mostly asleep, lulled by the motion, and looking more haggard than Watson had ever seen him after a case – if the detective wasn't careful, he could fall seriously ill.

"Have no fear, Watson," Holmes murmured, eyes still closed. "You may lay your pen to rest with this last case, I promise you..."

Watson opened his mouth to inquire, then closed it as his friend's breathing slowed and deepened, Holmes's head drooping onto the doctor's shoulder. Well, if Holmes was determined to retire so soon, Watson wasn't about to dissuade him – though he doubted his friend's decision would be a lasting one. Hmm, perhaps... He could hardly tell anyone what had really happened, after all...

"A waterfall?"

"I thought it was suitably dramatic."

"Hardly the word I'd choose!" Holmes snorted. "And how will you explain Moriarty, pray?"

"I thought I'd emphasise his intellectual side, make him a professor of some kind – mathematics, perhaps." Watson sighed at Holmes's dubious look. "Holmes, if you are determined to retire, permanently or otherwise, I'm happy to help. But you cannot simply disappear with no explanation to your public! Of course, if you can think of a better way to make an exit..."

Holmes spluttered indignantly, then rallied. "Well, what about you, eh? Wearing deep mourning for all those months?" Then he brightened. "No... it's Mycroft who has to do that, isn't it? Black gloves, black cravat, armband..." A snicker escaped his lips. "I should start drawing up my will, insist he delivers a moving eulogy... and mind, Watson, I want plenty of tears from you and Mary at my graveside."

"Now, now, Holmes," Watson chuckled, "that's no way for a spirit to address the bereaved!"