Thanks for reading. I do not own the characters of Elementary. I look forward to hearing from you, and hope you enjoy this installment.
Joan went for a run when she got home despite her fatigue. The rain had let up finally but more was forecast for later in the day. Sherlock begun combing many business resources to find out more information about Alexander Ashcroft, and had come up with nothing of any note.
Upon Joan's return, Sherlock called out, "It gets more curious by the moment, Watson. Ashcroft PE, as the company is called, has no web site, no Wikipedia page. They do not Tweet or Facebook. Alexander Ashcroft is practically a mirage in the business world. A few years ago, The Village Voice did a piece on private equity firms, and called Ashcroft PE 'a juggernaut on a flight through a black hole'. I would not disagree with them."
"So Ashcroft could be funding the mob or drug cartels?" said Joan as she came out of the kitchen and sat down on the couch to drink a post-run glass of coconut water.
"It could be except when you casually snoop into the records of say the DEA, the CIA, or Interpol, Ashcroft doesn't show up there either." Sherlock's demeanor was one of quiet agitation. "I don't want to depend on Artemis Merrill in regard to this case, but I'm afraid we may have no choice. I don't really want to be involved with her again, and frankly I don't even know why."
Joan put a hand on Sherlock's tense shoulder. "It's okay to feel repelled by something we don't understand and that we think is dangerous."
"Joan, they say there are two kinds of people, those who see danger and run away and those who run toward it. The latter are the kinds of people who go into police, fire, and emergency support. I always thought that I too was that kind of person." Sherlock turned his face toward Joan. His eyes, still gray in the dim light of growing darkness, held an expression that was difficult to interpret. The expression would have seemed like fear in another person, but in Sherlock, his stony manner put an edge on the vulnerability. Her hand, still on his shoulder, Joan extended it to wrap around Sherlock's back.
"Sherlock, we all have our kryptonite. I know that I had a hard time dealing with Artemis when we first met her. My background is science; at first I had to dismiss what she said about her condition. And I felt a great deal of anxiety, not knowing what to think about this game I thought she was playing. But then I thought about things I have seen as a doctor that I couldn't understand. In medicine when you deal with people in life or death situations, life is full of surprises. There are patients who should have every chance of recovery that simply don't make it. And there are a few patients with a terrible diagnosis, terrible odds of making it out of their situation alive, and they do it. So I finally decided to accept whatever Artemis says she is. And with that acceptance, I opened up a door to the unknown. I'm in a place where the laws of the universe need not apply. It's difficult, but empowering too." Joan's face was impassive, but she spoke her words with the lightness of acceptance and the freedom it brought.
Sherlock sighed deeply and relaxed further into Joan's embrace. He turned to look at his personal collage. "If universal laws do not apply, then what mechanism do I use to deduce Watson? Deduce…that's what I do, that's who I am."
"I don't know what mechanism you'll use Sherlock, but I know there's no one else more prepared to learn something new about the universe than you. But you have to wrap your arms around this and accept it, whatever it may bring."
Sherlock said nothing, but he turned to Watson and put his arms around her in an impromptu hug. "Thank you", he whispered in Watson's ear, holding her for a moment. Pulling back, he added, "I truly appreciate your faith in me, Watson."
Watson smiled softly. "I'm getting cold; I should go upstairs and shower. Then I'm going to see if I can nap a little. Any idea when or where we are meeting Artemis, assuming we will do that tonight?
"Her last text said she'd come by at sundown."
"Maybe you can get some sleep too while we wait," said Joan, getting up from the couch.
"Swimming in coffee, my brain is not ready for rest yet. And I'm hoping to hear something from the hacker network about Ashcroft PE."
Artemis Merrill arrived just after dark in what was apparently her standard uniform of black jeans and turtleneck. Her dark curls were smoothed down and plaited into two braids. Somehow she managed to look younger and more dangerous at the same time. "A pleasure to see you again Ms. Watson," said Artemis as Joan closed the door behind them. Joan led Artemis to the kitchen, where Sherlock was finishing a bowl of cereal as Artemis joined him at the table.
"Ms. Merrill, thank you for coming to see us. Alexander Ashcroft - you have answers, correct?" Sherlock pushed aside the empty bowl, picking up a mug of tea. Watson sat down with her own tea.
"I do Mr. Holmes. Are you ready to hear them? And Ms. Watson, are you? I don't ask that question lightly; there is danger in that knowledge."
Sherlock looked at Watson, who shook her head in the affirmative. He added, "There is also freedom in knowledge Ms. Merrill, and we are ready."
Stillness seemed to come over the room as Artemis began. "The body you found was Alexander Ashcroft. That is a certainty."
"According to the coroner's official report, the body belongs to an unknown male, cause of death unknown," said Sherlock.
"And the official report will remain that way; there will never be a match. But I know the body is Alex's because I knew him in my private life. He was a vampire like me, and he was not just any vampire. He was my maker, the one who turned me into a vampire. I was able to identify him by the smell of the remains. I would know it was him, even if only a molecule remained."
"Does this also explain why they can't figure out how the body decomposed?" added Watson.
"Yes. What you saw was the natural breakdown that occurs when a vampire is staked through the heart with a wooden implement. Vampires break down faster, presumably since we are already dead. And we do not naturally shed hair, skin cells…anything that would leave a DNA trace. It all makes sense so far, scientifically. But now the mystery begins," said Artemis, and she continued. "Alex was a vampire for hundreds of years before I knew him. He was powerful, and that means there are limits as to who could have driven that stake through his heart in his own house. There are even fewer suspects when you look at Alex's life. Alex and I live were very much alike in that we lived, for the most part, outside of vampire society. But that had not always been the case. I believe that an old nemesis has returned." Artemis' voice had grown quieter as she spoke until it was barely a whisper.
"And when you spoke of danger, I assume you think this nemesis may wish to put a stake through your heart as well?" said Sherlock thoughtfully as he leaned in further as if to examine Artemis more closely.
"I fear he may wish to put a stake through the heart of anyone, vampire or not vampire, whose had anything to do with Alex or this case," said Artemis. "This vampire is not in his right mind. And I believe there is real danger to you and Ms. Watson if you pursue this matter further, danger you are ill-equipped to fight.
Sherlock put up his hand, "We will decide that when the time comes. Does this nemesis have a name, Ms. Merrill?"
"A…A…Arawn," said Artemis, her mouth stumbling over the word, but her dark eyes remained unblinking.
"A mythological god who created an undead army," said Sherlock. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"Not at all, Mr. Holmes. Mythology often has roots in real history. Humans turned what they could not understand into myth. Arawn was and is a vampire; I have no idea if he was the source of those folkloric tales. But, I do know he is ancient and a maker of vampires who share special talents. I believe the modern term for the people he selects to turn is psychopath. Only the cruelest and most heinous members of humanity piqué his interest."
"And how did he become your nemesis, Ms. Merrill?"
"Our paths crossed many years ago. And when they did, Alex and I took his most beloved creation away from him...we staked Jack the Ripper."