When John next opened his eyes, he was at one end of an empty hall.

"John. Watson." A shadowy figure at the other end called out in precise, measured syllables, like a nurse calling you up for your examination. Or a demon in the waiting room of hell, calling you up for judgement.

Slowly, John's eyes adjusted to the dim light. He began to make out the shape of the man. Large and firmly built. Big boned. Like he had pillars and beams where his femurs and rib bones should be. His head stood on his shoulders like a strangely handsome gargoyle and his nose looked like it should've had a bird perched on it.

Slowly, he began walking toward the man. It seemed to be the only option available. He couldn't see anyone in the general vicinity but he had no doubt that those thugs were standing by, waiting for him to make a wrong move.

"That is your name, isn't it?" He smiled condescendingly, looking down his finely sculpted nose at the doctor. Most people would've said that to make sure they've remembered correctly or pronounced it right. The man said it as though he was afraid John had forgotten.

"...yes." John said through gritted teeth. "And you are?"

The man ignored the question entirely. "I understand that you've come into acquaintance with a… 'man' named Sherlock Holmes."

"I… don't see how that's any of your business."

"Oh, you'll find it is very much my business." His smile dropped. John found himself actually missing it. "All creatures such as him are my business. In fact, the reason I brought you here today was to make a sort of… proposal. I'm not asking for anything too strenuous, nothing you'd be uncomfortable with. Just some information. His habits, hobbies, routines. And of course a little discretion."

John, who felt more or less constantly out of his depth as of late, understood completely. "And why would I want to do that?"

"Because, if you comply, you'll find the rewards rather... generous." The smile was back. John was suspicious that this 'reward' would end up being something like 'the continued use of all your limbs'. "And if you don't, I'm sure you'll come to regret the consequences."

John laughed. It was as if he had walked into a cheesy spy movie. He was tempted to ask the man if he owned a white cat. "Is that a threat?"

"Think of it as advice." He flexed his fingers around the ivory handle of his cane as he considered his next words. "These creatures... they're not like us. They've preyed on humankind from the shadows for centuries. Preying on the lost, lonely and desperate. Luring them in with their beauty, promises of money, security and your heart's desire. Tell me, has he told you that he'll do anything to please you? Or has he found a different line?"

It was ridiculous. Outlandish. Like something out of a penny dreadful. The scary part was, he was beginning to make sense. "That is definitely not your business."

He turned, wondering which one of the eerily glowing doors lining the hall was the exit.

"He's killed before." The man mentioned casually, just as John spotted an exit sign. John sighed."Or haven't you noticed the human skull displayed so proudly on his mantlepiece?"

The man nonchalantly brushed the dust from the sleeve of his crisp, perfectly tailored (if not a little old-fashioned) suit. "I trust you're not looking forward to keeping him company. The skull, that is. Not the vampire. Although, I've heard the vampire isn't exactly what you'd call companionable, either."

"Why." John took a step closer. "Do you." He took another. "Care." He came close enough to see the dignified, floral pattern of the man's brocaded waistcoat. Close enough to give him a clean punch to the nose, should the occasion arise. He came no closer. He smiled a mad, dangerous grin. "What could you possibly have to gain by... this."

"Just watching out for a fellow human." His mouth contorted into some strange parody of a compassionate smile. John let out a mad, dangerous laugh. The smile melted into a more honest emotionless mask. "As I said before. Business. I hunt the hunters and sell those who would enslave us. I make sure that such monstrosities as vampires and werewolves and demons stay the stuff of legends and keep the underworld underfoot. It's quite a profitable occupation, if you're interested."

John laughed again. "I don't think so. Now, if you don't mind, I was in the middle of catching a murderer when you kidnapped me. And I'd very much like to get back to it."

"So be it. Anthea." A woman slipped silently out of the door nearest to him. She moved with a quiet grace. Like a shark, drifting silently through the depths of the ocean.

"This way," She commanded quietly without even glancing at John. She floated towards a door that was entirely identical to the others.

"And John." The man called out as he trailed after Anthea. "If you're in ever interested in taking another murderer off the streets. I'll be in touch."

John didn't answer. He didn't turn. He just kept walking.


Somewhere in London, a phone rang.

"Yes?" A bored voice murmured into it.

"And did he take it?"

The voice hummed, disappointed. "Pity. He would've made the perfect toy. No matter."

"They always break anyways." a set of pale, slender fingers brushed the bald ivory brow of a grinning skull. "Eventually."