Author's Note:
'Fraid I'll have to answer reviews later. =( Sorry this update is so late, and I'm also afraid that I mightn't be able to update for a long time.
==12. The Once and Future Master==
Rating: T
Summary: He was no one's inferior, much less slave. He was The Master.
Pairing(s): sideline H/L
Warnings: some definite creepiness
Word Count: 8891
His earliest memory was of floating.
He was breathing through some sort of tube attached to his mouth and nose, and he was suspended in some sort of liquid. That moment of awareness lasted a moment only, and he remembered no more beyond that. His next memory was of a hard surface beneath him, a harsh light above, and loud whirring and beeping.
He wasn't alarmed, however, because he knew what had happened, where he was, who he was, and so much of what had happened since 1891. Rather than the roar and rushing waters of Reichenbach he'd been rapidly approaching—or the fire and cries and darkness he had been drifting toward at the same time—he was safe here in this sterile environment, his nearly seventy-year-old soul existing within a much younger body.
Clone, the man had called him, but he refused to believe it. Surely a… a duplicate… could not have such a complete replica of the original's soul. He was not a clone. He was not.
He swiftly came to understand that the man—who insisted on being called "Monsieur Fenwick"—believed that he had been "programmed" with a manageable temperament. The man wanted him to obey, to be a bloody slave.
He had news for that deformed French lunatic: he was no one's inferior, much less slave.
Overpowering the fool had been all too easy, especially with the amusingly muscular build the man had seen fit to give him. Ah, delicious irony. Using the technology of the brand-new 22nd century, he installed an implant in the man, an implant that could be manipulated by remote control to do any number of harmful things to the body. Thus did "slave" turn on "master".
He was one chronological years old—and thirty-two biological years—when Fenwick was caught out on a less-than-legal errand. It was just enough offense to warrant cryptnosis. He appreciated the complexity of the technology used for the brain reprogramming, but he detested the practice. Even he would never have contemplated brainwashing another human being so callously; in his time, subversion of the mind was a delicate art, one to be accomplished over a lengthy period of time.
Hypocrites, those Yardies—every one of them.
It took him a month, but at last he worked out a way to override Fenwick's brainwash. They had to be more careful now that Fenwick was a paroled lawbreaker; fortunately, the man's acting skills were up to the challenge.
Then came the day—he was over two chronological years old at that point—that Fenwick was caught for skipping out on his cryptnosis update. He was surprised to discover that the arresting officer was none other than a female descendant of Inspector G. Lestrade, of rather dubious and questionable memory. Oh, how life came in circle!
To his chagrin, life soon completed that circle, for, somehow, the greatest challenge of his former life was brought into this one. Sherlock Edward Holmes arrived on the scene with all of his characteristic flair and ruined everything.
And yet…
He wasn't completely sorry that Holmes had been restored to life. Certainly it kept the world from getting boring, and it challenged him to be even more inventive. Unfortunately, Holmes seemed to refuse to die again those times that he tried to kill him, but c'est la vie.
The compudroid was an amusing diversion. Challenging at times, but more amusing than anything—especially given the fact that Mr. Alleged Reasoning Machine seemed to have taken to the droid with the same fierce loyalty he'd held for the true John Hamish Watson. Delicious irony, once again.
Inspector Beth Lestrade was another matter altogether. Attractive, intelligent, dangerous, impetuous, stubborn… ah yes, and quite zealous. An intriguing if also infuriating young woman, and quite the heiress of both her famous ancestors' legacies (interesting, that the good Doctor's firstborn daughter should marry Geoffrey Lestrade's youngest son).
Even more amusing than the compudroid was the way in which Holmes and Lestrade looked at each other. The way they spoke with each other, the way they stood together…
He wasn't blind. The two detectives had what in his time had been called an attachment. Sherlock Confirmed-Bachelor Holmes… was, whether he realized it or not, in love with the descendant of his best friend and the Yarder he called the "best of professionals." That irony was the most delicious of all. It was almost worth being defeated to see in-person that relationship developing. One of these days, he would not be able to hold back, anymore—he would have to comment on it.
Ah, just imagining the blushes that were sure to follow was priceless.
He was certain that, someday, the Times would be announcing the wedding of Mr. Sherlock Holmes to Inspector Beth Lestrade. Following that in probably just a couple of years, a child born to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. He had his money on John if the baby was a boy. Mary, if a girl.
Any offspring of Holmes's would be certain to be a prodigy, but he could only imagine that a combination of Holmes's genes with dear Elizabeth's would render their child nothing short of magnificent.
James Moriarty looked forward to meeting the baby, some years from now.
He looked forward to the ultimate revenge.
Author's Note:
Because when all's said and done, Moriarty is still evil. No matter how much I may like him. And if I ever want to do a story redeeming him, I'd better make the character development zedding good.
Oh, and I know I've been rather blatant about my H/L love lately, but… I can't help it! Doggone it, it's in my nature to be a shipper, and I have never before seen a woman who would be so well-suited to Sherlock Holmes as Beth Lestrade. Really! Yeah, Irene Norton (widowed and no affairs, plz), Violet Hunter, Agatha, and Maud Bellamy are all fun to pair up with the Great Detective—and Mary Russell is… okay, I suppose—but Beth just tops them all. Besides, the foundational chemistry is there in the show. Just look at DERA, especially the beginning when they're practically flirting with each other! And, for the record, age is irrelevant. It is. Yes, Sherlock has an at-least-70s-something soul in him, but he's got this nice mental blend of youth tempered by age. Age is absolutely not an issue.
I'm not sure what I'll have next when I finally update this again, but I promise it'll be good, so… Stay tuned!
Please review!
