I know I know I said more angry angsty stuff after that brief break but come on look at the support I've got here:

Anon said: "i wouldnt mind a short follow up and maybe some more tales of the knight, the wizard and the warrior princess!" and viridianaln9 said: "Aw cute, I love it, will there be a sequel chapter to this one?"

This story was so cute to write, the images were so vivid I wish I could see drawings of them! I like the idea of Sherlock in a wizard's outfit.

So anyway here's a little snippet, just a cute little story. Enjoy!

Once upon a time there was a foggy, dangerous kingdom known as London.

It was a kingdom infested with dragons and thieves, ruffians and monsters. A kingdom threatening to tear itself apart if it didn't catch fire first. In the midst of all this chaos and gloom there was a hero who stood against each dragon and thief, who rescued fair maidens from fires and floods, a fair and brave man: Sir Watson.

Of course, everyone just called him John.

Wherever the brave hero went, he was escorted by his two loyal partners: (you mustn't ever refer to them as sidekicks) the thin wizard Sherlock the Black and the lovely and fearsome warrior princess Mary the Heartpiercer.

The knight had many, many, many adventures. Too many to keep track of by memory, so he set himself to writing them all down. It was one day when he was going through his old parchments and journals that he stumbled upon one of his favorite adventures: THE TALE OF TRIUMVIRATE.

It began thusly:

"Sherlock, we've talked about keeping spell ingredients in my helmet." John sighed, tipping the metal dome upside down and allowing various lizards, eyeballs, feathers, and strange dusts to fall out. "I know we've talked about it."

"I can't seem to remember any conversation about your helmet being off limits." Sherlock replied, the wizard was leaning back in his favorite chair with a pipe and a bored look. John regarded him from where he knelt on the straw covered floor with his armor.

"Well I should think after the incident with the newts in my sword sheath it would be implied." John rolled his eyes. "You can't keep leaving your things all over...all over my things."

"Very eloquent." Sherlock puffed out a smoke ring and smirked at his gallant friend.

"I don't have time to wash the magic out of my steel." John informed the black cloaked wizard. "We might be needed any moment."

"Actually we'll be needed in about ten seconds." Sherlock sighed, putting out his pipe rather reluctantly and lifting his hat and staff from where they'd rested on the floor by his feet.

"What makes you say that?" John gave him a quizzical look, until the sound of bootsteps on the stairs grabbed his attention.

"Sherlock, John!" The door was flung open and the guardsman Lestrade entered, looking quite frantic with his uniform all ruffled. "Can you come to the deadhouse?"

"Why?" Sherlock asked, staring down at the guardsmen.

"We've got corpses from a dragon attack. Only...well you best come see."

Sherlock looked at John with a smug attitude and then gestured towards the door. "Shall we go? Well after I spend ten minutes helping you into your armor, that is."

"Well I'd like to see you take on the dragon without me." John huffed angrily.

After the knight had dressed in his armor, the two adventurers followed the guardsmen to the deadhouse at the center of town. Waiting for them was Molly the healer. John regarded her and her trade tools fondly, as he himself had been trained in the healing arts before ogre attacks had demanded he take up his sword for a role in heroism.

Sherlock was not so distracted. He advanced upon the bodies, tossing his staff to John who just managed to catch it before it hit the ground (which was not easy in full metal plating). Then he knelt over each corpse to examine them thoroughly.

"What do you make of this, sir?" Sherlock asked, pointing towards the three bodies. John came closer and gasped. It wasn't that he wasn't used to carnage, he'd seen what a dragon could do before. However, the bodies were unusual in their destruction.

Each one had a word carved into their charred flesh: "WIZARD, KNIGHT, PRINCESS."

"What kind of a dragon would do that?" John asked, remaining remarkably calm considering the circumstances.

"I know only one." Sherlock answered. "The red fiend, Moriarty. The king of the northern mountain."

"That old firebelly is back again?" John shook his head and felt his hand go for his sword of its own volition.

"It's obviously a message for us, all three of us." Sherlock nodded towards them. "In fact its so obvious I wonder if maybe the brute is slipping."

"If Moriarty is back, should we ask for the aid of your brother?" John asked. "You have to admit he is a better wizard than you and we could use all the help we can get."

"A better wizard but far too weary to go dragon hunting, don't you think?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the mere mention of Mycroft the Silver. "However we will need Mary as you can tell."

"Oh, yes. Right." John blushed. He had not seen the princess of the warrior race in quite some time. Last he'd seen her, they'd stolen each other's hearts and vowed to be one even apart.

Also she'd shot Sherlock through the chest with an arrow but they were all mostly over that now.

"Try to focus, I know its hard with all that blood rushing to your groin." Sherlock rolled his eyes, and Lestrade and Molly had the decency to hold back their laughter.

"Come along, you!" John thrust Sherlock's staff against the wizard's chest and took off, his face red from both anger and thoughts of Mary the fair.

Finding the princess was easy, the wizard and knight had safe passage through the warrior women's lands. When their princess heard of the situation she came at once.

"It's good to see you, sir John." Mary's hand rested over John's as the two stared into each other's eyes longingly.

"I swear to you, witch, I will cast a hundred vile curses on your soul if you do not leave me be!" Sherlock howled behind them, standing on a chair and waving his staff at his housekeeper.

"That's not polite at all! Try to keep quiet, John has a woman over!" Lady Hudson waved her hand and cast a spell of silence on the tantruming wizard. "A woman! Fancy that!" She winked.

Sherlock undid the spell easily, but his face stayed scowling. "I'm trying to slay a dragon, can you comprehend that?"

"Well I've just got to make sure the phoenix feathers don't mix with the unicorn mane hair again, you know what happens then!" Lady Hudson tutted as she swept about the house rearranging spell ingredients.

"I have a system." Sherlock pouted, pulling his hat over his eyes.

"Moriarty is sending for us?" Mary asked. "What could he be planning?"

"I'm not sure, but I know Sherlock will figure it out." John reassured his lover.

"If you two are done." Sherlock coughed, avoiding looking at the couple. In fact he always avoided looking at them. They were a beautiful pair and he loved them both but seeing them together made him feel hurt for some reason. "I've just got the location spell ready."

The three heroes gathered around the small cauldron sitting on the table before Sherlock. Just moments before he'd been filling it with all sorts of strange ingredients (most of which were harvested from John's armor) and now it was spewing forth a mist that displayed an image of a dark mountain.

"He is in his cave waiting for us." Sherlock deduced. "So we best prepare."

"I have all I need." Mary gestured to her quiver and bow, she did this with a spear which made her point far more valid. "Though if you boys need time..."

"I have my sword and shield." John confirmed, and Sherlock made himself busy stuffing spell components into his hat in case he might need them.

"You all do be careful now." Lady Hudson instructed them, looking worried.

"We will." Sherlock assured her, looking a bit sheepish for having yelled at her.

"Right, then off we are." John put a hand to his sword again, feeling like the action was beginning.

The forest beneath the mountain was dark and hard to navigate. Sherlock conjured a ball of blue light to guide the way, and the two fighters followed behind him with their hands on their weapons.

"I don't like the looks of this." Mary held her spear close, staring into the shadows.

"Well it is likely the dragon will have traps set for us." Sherlock seemed calm as he stepped over gnarled tree roots. "I will, of course, be able to see most of them coming with my foresight magic." He gloated, just as a tree branch curled around his waist and drew him up into the leaves.

"Sorcery!" Mary yelled, brandishing her spear. "John, your friend has been captured!"

"Sherlock!" John yelled, rushing at the tree with his sword as though he could hack the whole thing down. Neither warrior could see the wizard, but they could hear him struggling amongst the leaves. John rushed towards the blue light that Sherlock had made and reached out tentatively. He never knew which of the wizard's spells would hurt him and which wouldn't, but he had to take a chance on this one. He grabbed the light and threw it up into the air so they could see the branches better.

There was Sherlock, wrapped in the arms of someone familiar.

The Nymph Mistress Irene.

The nymph was entirely naked, her body tinged green and sprouting leaves. She had vines woven into her hair, but her nails were sharp and red like thorns.

"Mine, now." She purred. "You clever boy. So clever, and yet you never could see me coming." She dragged her nails across Sherlock's cheek, then bent towards him and gave him a kiss.

"Let him go, Irene!" John commanded, his sword in the air.

"I will." Irene caressed Sherlock's hair and the wizard stared blankly as if unsure of how to react. "After all, what use have I for a dead man?" She said the words almost sadly, and John was reminded of the vaguely romantic past she and Sherlock shared. As close to romantic as Sherlock ever got.

"Dead man?" Mary asked, more focused on the more important part of that sentence.

"My poison has already entered his body." Irene showed her nails, letting them glint in the light of Sherlock's spell. "In a few hours he will be dead. I am truly sorry but...the red fiend commanded it." She shook her head and several leaves fell to the ground. "He could burn my forest to the ground. All I had to keep him from doing it were the love letters from the princess but now...now that you've burned them all, Sherlock...all I have to give him is you." She ran a finger down Sherlock's sharp cheek and then let the wizard fall from her arms to the ground where he landed with a groan.

"Sherlock!" John ran towards his friend while Mary loosed a few arrows at the nymph. It was too late, she'd faded back into the tree from whence she'd come.

Sherlock looked pale, but that was normal. Three red cuts shone on his cheek where he'd been cut, he put a hand to them.

"We have to hurry." He said.

"Sherlock you're hurt! She said you'd die in a few hours!" John protested.

"Which means we have a few hours to reach the mountain. We can't waste time." Sherlock snapped at John. John opened his mouth to argue again but Mary put a hand on his arm and shook her head.

"Listen to him." She said, her eyes sad.

And so the party of heroes moved on.

The forest diminished behind them and they came to a field as seemingly endless as the ocean. John had not noticed any signs of Sherlock weakening though he was still keeping an eye on him. Mary held his hand as they walked to reassure him. Sherlock did not watch them hold hands.

Suddenly the wizard stiffened, and called for the others to stop.

"Someone is here..." He said. "I can feel a magic that is not mine."

"Ah. That would be me..." Whispered a voice from nowhere. Mary stiffened as well and then began to shiver. Her grip on her spear became tighter.

"Milverton!" She shouted. "Face me!"

The warlock tutted, still invisible. "Now, Mary...you know I own you..." He appeared in the field before them wearing a black hooded robe and holding before him two vials. One contained blood, the other a few blonde hairs. "I own you." He stated again with a foul grin.

Sherlock stepped forward but John put his hand out to stop him. "This is my fight."

"No, this is my fight!" Mary argued, but then Milverton acted before either of them could decide whose fight it was. He cast his magic over the vials, and it draped around them with black tendrils. Mary shook, her eyes going glassy. Then as Milverton took control of her body, she pulled her spear up to ready for attack.

John recognized this look from when last they'd fought Milverton. "Mary. I won't fight you." He said, lowering his sword.

The spell Mary was under allowed her no such mercy. She lunged with her spear and it clanged against John's armor, pushing the knight backwards. John turned completely from his lover and faced Milverton.

"Sherlock. Keep her busy while I finish him." He commanded.

"Right." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Now, am I allowed to kill your wife or no? Because really I do love her and all but..."

"Sherlock!"

"Okay, okay." Sherlock raised his hands and the grass of the field shot up and became chains that wrapped Mary up from head to toe. The woman struggled to be free while John charged Milverton with his sword. Milverton cackled and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. John looked around for him, and found him when Milverton shot a fireball at his back. Luckily he'd felt the heat coming, and had turned and raised his shield just enough to block most of it. Though it did singe his eyebrows a bit and reddened his skin.

"You cannot save her." Milveton smiled a mouth full of pointed teeth. "She is mine. She is not only mine, but she is evil. She is not like you, she is not shining or pure she has blood on her hands and she will kill again."

"I know she'll kill again." John nodded. "She'll kill you."

"But first, you must try." Milverton smirked, and that's when John slashed across the man's torso with his sword. He'd been a good distance away but it was enough to rip the man's robe. A dozen vials came tumbling out and John wasted no time smashing each one he saw.

"No!" Milverton howled. "Away!" He shot lightning from his fingertips which pushed John onto his back and filled his body with pain.

"Mary..." John coughed, and like an answered prayer his wife appeared with clear eyes and a sharp spear.

"Not my husband, you son of a bitch." She whispered, driving the spear through Milverton's black heart.

Sherlock helped John to his feet, his hands lingering a little longer than maybe they should have. When John was standing he opened his arms wide and for a moment Sherlock almost returned the embrace before he realized John was looking at Mary. The two warriors hugged and kissed, each one praising the other's skill in combat.

"There's no time for that." Sherlock scoffed. "We have a dragon to kill and... and..." suddenly he groaned and double over, clutching at his chest.

"Sherlock?" John reached for his friend to steady him. The wizard was pale and sweating and his heartbeat was quickening.

"I'm fine..." He insisted.

"The nymph's poison is doing its work." John frowned. "You need a healer."

"I need a dragon skull for my bedroom." Sherlock replied curtly. "And you and the princess need a house for your five children. Now that we're done with that, let's keep moving."

The heroes finally made their way to the mountain, and came upon the cave of the red fiend Moriarty.

"We must be careful." Sherlock was in the middle of saying. He was saying this as Mary and John were banging on their shield or on the ground and shouting taunts and insults at the dragon. Sherlock shook his head.

"What do I hear?" came a silky voice wrapped in smoke that billowed from the mouth of the cave. "What do I hear? Wizard Holmes's petssssss?" The s was hissed as the dragon's tongue came forth, dripping venom. After the tongue came into view the snout followed, which was followed by all the hulking muscle, scale, wing, and claw of red dragon.

Moriarty pulled himself from the cave, his golden eyes staring at the heroes with much amusement. "I thought you two would be dead. So hard to find good help these days."

"Your days are numbered." John threatened, drawing his sword. Mary started the battle with a barrage of arrows which bounced off the dragon's thick hide. John rushed the beast, drawing its attention with attacks to its exposed belly. Moriarty loosed a torrent of flame at the two pests that barely scratched his skin, and they both took cover.

"Dragon...dragon, dragon, dragon." Sherlock muttered to himself as he pulled ingredients from his hat. He was laying them out on the ground before him and waving his staff over them. He chanted in a tongue long forgotten, and the magic items before him began to glow. John noticed the spellwork and remembered it from past times it had been used in their quests.

"Sherlock!" He waved, signaling he understood. Then he began distracting the dragon again. Sherlock focused on his magic, which wrapped itself around him...changing him.

A forked tongue rolled out of the wizard's mouth along with a cloud of smoke. Black scales appeared on his skin and wings sprouted from his back, ripping the fabric of his robes. He stretched and grew and roared as he became a huge black dragon.

Moriarty was no longer amused by the two other heroes, but he was intrigued by the dragon encroaching on his territory. With a mighty roar he threw himself at Sherlock and the two began to duel with claws and flame. John held Mary back, and the two hid behind a rock as the dragons waged war.

Moriarty was the first to take to the air with a beat of his leathery wings. Sherlock followed, and the battle that had been fought on the ground now became an acrobatic competition to strike on another out of the sky. With a roar, Sherlock ripped his claws through the skin of Moriarty's right wing. Moriarty screeched as the wing became useless, and tried desperately to stay aloft. He began to plummet, but as he did he fixed his claws into Sherlock's exposed belly. It drew blood, and it drew Sherlock down with the sinking red fiend.

The two dragons fell back to earth with a thud so loud it could be heard kingdoms over.

There was a scuffle, but John nor Mary could see anything through the cloud of dust and smoke created. Finally there was silence.

The heroes waited a moment before deciding to go see who the victor was. Then they slowly came out of hiding and approached the dust cloud.

"Sherlock...?" John asked, his eyes searching for a black dragon. Of course it was a far more familiar form that his eyes met. Sherlock approached him, dressed in a ripped robe and without his hat or staff. He was bleeding and coughing and stumbling towards John.

"There..." He said, trying to sound confident even as he fell into John's arms. "Not hard to slay a dragon. You should take notes."

"Sherlock..." John felt tears coming to his eyes. He knew these were the wizard's final moments.

"Stop crying." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "There's a woman watching. Straighten your armor and take her home. Take care of each other." Sherlock coughed and blood came from his mouth. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to John's just softly...and then breathed his last.

John willed the tears to stop as he lowered the wizard's body to the ground. Mary drew closer and helped John walk away. She kissed him and wiped away what tears were left.

"I'll come back with you...to London." She said as she comforted her husband.

"You will?" John asked, and the blonde woman nodded.

"I should hope so...after all I would like for you to know your daughter." She said casually, and John's heart rate picked up.

"You're not...?"

"You're going to be a father, sir Watson."

"...You know...Sherlock is a girl's name..." John tried to laugh but it got caught in his throat.

"I always liked...Anne." Mary suggested, though if John asked to name their girl Sherlock she knew she would go along with it happily.

"Anne. I like Anne." John nodded. "Anne. I wonder what he would think..." John sighed. "We better get home. I'll give him a proper burial just...just not now."

Mary nodded, she understood. They walked back towards the field, towards the forest, towards London together.

And as they did, Sherlock Holmes smiled and pushed himself back up. He marveled at the amazing strength a dragon has, the strength to fight off even the most persistent of poisons, and he wondered what he would do now that the world thought he was dead.

Without John it would certainly be...lonely, but it was time to be alone. Maybe he could come back in a few years to see Anne, and tell her the tales of her father and mother's bravery...