A/N: Hey folks sorry for the long delay – June is a heck of a month for teachers with reports 'n stuff & lots of family stuff & I had to buy a lawnmower – that's more stressful than I thought it would be:P Anyway here you go. I hope you enjoy this one:)
As always I'd like to thank my marvelous friends johnsarmylady and mattsoved1 for reading this over & all my other friends who encourage me & support me everyday:)
The Curse
Slowly awaking to various aches and pains was not Wiggins' idea of the best way to rouse one's self. He stretched carefully, placed a hand upon his neck and tried to work out the kinks. He hadn't even been aware of falling asleep. One minute he'd been arguing with himself, the Lord, the fairies trapped in the lamps and the next he'd slipped off into a deep slumber. He decided that he was tired from the shock and stress of the last few days not to mention having had to traipse over half of London.
Glancing about the empty lobby he realized it wasn't as late as he had thought. The dark edges of night hovered and dawn was still hours away. He stood carefully, wincing at the soreness in his legs and looked around carefully. The door to the room John had been placed in was closed and he was curious as to how the hawk, now a man, was getting along. In spite of his anger at discovering John Watson was a Captain, former or not, under the Mage, had been quite a blow. He wasn't sure if he would be able to forgive him.
But then again, Lord, you rather expect us to, don't you? There was a sour tone to his thoughts. He crept quietly across the abandoned lobby and placed a hand upon the knob. Turning it carefully he opened the door a crack and peered inside. There was a soft glow of light from one fairy lamp near the sofa where he had placed the injured bird. It gleamed a little brighter as the fairies noticed Wiggins standing there. The light played softly on the man asleep on the sofa. Wiggins noticed his shirt was off, his left arm was in a sling and there were various wrappings around the back of his neck. A light blanket covered Watson from the chest down, slightly askew and a pillow held his head. Coming into the room silently as he was able, he walked over to the sofa. He saw that Watson had an old wound on his shoulder, puckered and thick with scar tissue formed during healing. He wondered at the cause, but mentally shrugged as if he didn't care.
Mixed feelings crept through his thoughts and his heart as he looked down at the sleeping man. Here was someone, whom when he had first met, had hurt him, but as he had begun to understand what drove John Watson, what terrible weights were on his shoulders and his soul, he realized that he was a good man, a troubled man but kind and thoughtful in his heart. To discover he had been aligned with the man Wiggins hated above all others, well that was hard to take. As Wiggins watched him shuffle slightly in his sleep, a soft sigh escaped Watson's lips. He muttered something and then whispered, just under his breath 'Sherlock'.
Behind Wiggins, the door creaked slightly and he span around, startled. Mycroft Holmes was standing there, in the shadows of the door. He crooked his finger at Wiggins, motioned for him to come forward. Wiggins glanced at Watson again, fixed the blanket and covered John up to his shoulders so he wouldn't be chilled. He then followed Holmes out the door.
Led out into the lobby and across the cold marble floor, Holmes entered into a similar room on the far side. Inside was a large desk, probably for whoever had been in charge of the hotel when it had been a hotel. Holmes sat at the desk, as if he were familiar with being the leader of a small nation, all stiff back and unrevealed emotions. He indicated for Wiggins to sit in the chair opposite. Wiggins did so a little distrustfully. Whilst Mycroft Holmes watched him, Wiggins did the same back. He was slightly taller than Sherlock and his hair was red. The nose, which would not have looked out of place upon the hawk form of John Watson, sniffed the air, reflectively. His eyes were a deeper blue and not the piebald colours that ran riot in Sherlock's.
Their parents must have really hated them to give them such outlandish names, he thought idly.
"Here, you look like you could use this." Holmes was holding out a tall glass filled with water. Wiggins eyed it suspiciously, but the dusty feel of his mouth won out over his apprehension. It was downed swiftly and he held the glass out and jiggled it a little. Holmes lifted a brow, picked up a pitcher filled with water and lifted it to show Wiggins. Wiggins nodded and his glass was filled again. The second glass was sipped more slowly.
"If you are quite refreshed, I should like to speak with you. As I mentioned before, I have questions."
"Yeah, right, whatever. I'll tell you what you want. That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"
An edge of bitterness cut his voice, sharp and angry.
A wintery smile and Mycroft Holmes began to speak. "All right Mr. Wiggins. I would like to hear your side of things. What are you doing here with John Watson, where is my brother and how did you happen to get involved with all," he waved a hand lazily in the air, "this?"
"I didn't choose to get involved. It just sort of happened, is all. I was minding my own business when John Watson decided to injure me and then he offered to fix me up." He clamped his lips shut. If Holmes wanted the whole story he was going to have to work for it. Even though he knew he would tell Homes whatever he wanted to hear, he was feeling obstinate and angry and wasn't going to make it easy for him.
Clearing his throat, Holmes made a motion to shuffle some papers on his desk, pulling one out, seemingly at random. Wiggins was pretty sure the whole thing was staged and that he knew which paper he meant to grab.
"Ah yes. It says here you are Mr. Bill Wiggins, also known as Wig, Wiggy and/or Mouse, thief and sometime drug user. Your parents are deceased and your older sister is missing, presumed dead, having been taken by Magnussen's people sometime after he gained power."
"Leave my sister outta this."
"Why? She's the reason you were incarcerated in the Tower in the first place. You went to rescue her. A foolhardy move as it turned out, at least for you and perhaps for my brother as well. He is interested in your skills is he not? He wants your help breaking into the Tower."
"You know, I ain't so sure I want to help him, knowing what I know about John Watson. And anyway, why doesn't he just use Watson? He's been in there, living it up."
"Believe me when I tell you John Watson was not 'living it up'. And pray, tell me, how exactly would John be of any use to Sherlock when he spends half of his time as a hawk? Hard to get him to return to Sherlock as it is let alone mastermind a break in, hmmm?"
"Oh. Yeah. Right." Wiggins blushed. He didn't really think about Watson being a hawk that much anymore. He was, or had been a companion and he thought, a friend.
"I understand your reluctance to embrace the good Captain Watson now that you have discovered his little secret and I don't mean about being a hawk. That aspect of his personality is hardly a secret. I will tell you that I too was reluctant to trust the man at first. "
"Why are you telling me this? You don't seem like the sort who'd just give up his secrets."
Another lifted eyebrow and a wintery smile.
"No. I am not. But I am not planning on 'giving' you my secrets. I have a proposal for you."
"Oh? A proposal is it? Well now, that makes everything just fine and dandy." A feeling of misery was added to the mixture of anger and rage. He felt that the only thing anyone wanted from him was his knowledge and skills. He wasn't more than someone to be used. No one cared about him, as a person.
Another sharp glance, a settling of shoulders and Holmes spoke, "Mr. Wiggins, if you please."
Still arguing with himself and feeling mutinous, he finally gave in with a violent, "Fine." He sat back and began to tell Mycroft Homes everything he knew from the moment he met John Watson until the serval had pounced and injured the former Captain. He ended with, "And then I ran half way across London and deposited him here. Now, I think I will leave and head off on my own, thank you for the water."
A heavy sigh came from the man across the desk. "Mr. Wiggins, kindly sit down." The tone was firm and brooked no room for argument. "I have not told you things you will wish to hear and I do believe you will want to know what I have to say. I am confident I have found a way to break the curse."
Caught in the act of rising out of his chair, Wiggins sat back down suddenly. Even if he was angry and feeling used, here was something that grabbed his attention. He was too curious to simply walk out of the room without finding out more. Before Holmes could speak, however, he asked something he was curious about. "Here now. Why do you trust me with all of this? I could be a spy for the Mage or out to do your brother harm. I ain't too fond of him or his friend at the moment, am I?"
With a great rolling of eyes, Homes said, "Please, you wear your heart on your sleeve. You could no more betray the two men whose lives you have entwined with your own than I could. Now, enough of this. Can we get down to business here?"
"All right, then."
Holmes cleared his throat again and began to speak. As the words rolled off his tongue, Wiggins found himself leaning forward, gripped in the tale of the two star crossed men.
"I shall not tell you everything. Some things I do not know and some are better coming from Sherlock or John." He looked into the distance. "Yes, some things would be better coming from John. Anyway here is what I can tell you.
"You must know that my brother has always been interested in solving crimes and knowing why people who are involved in law-breaking, do what they do. Even before the coming of magic he wanted to discover the why and the how of criminal activity, especially the how. He is a very intelligent man and would have done well in the sciences or perhaps in the pursuit of philosophy, but no, he wanted to be a detective. On his own terms." A look of reminiscence crossed Mycroft's face. "Initially he wanted to be a pirate, but that is neither here nor there. Either way, after Magnussen took over, but before Sherlock met John, he discovered that things were not what the seemed. Magnussen, who didn't appear to have magical powers at the time of the change, suddenly had them. Now this is not terribly unusual, as many strange incidences were still happening due to the Change, but it made Sherlock curious. Sherlock investigated and in doing so found that a man named Moriarty was working for Magnussen. He was working with him very closely; doing a lot of nasty tasks that Magnussen perhaps didn't wish to do himself. Sherlock, in his investigations got very close to Moriarty. There was a mutual fascination between the two, one a criminal mastermind and the other a gifted investigator. At some point, and I will leave this part for John and Sherlock to tell you, Sherlock met John. John was at first suspicious of Sherlock and tried, under orders from Magnussen, to dispose of my brother. Sherlock was able to convince John of his good intentions. John, who had come to the conclusion that Magnussen was not a good man, left his employ and helped Sherlock capture and kill Moriarty."
Holmes leaned forward and looked thoughtful. It seemed as if revealing this much personal information was new to him, as if he were a man who normally kept secrets hidden deep inside. Wiggins decided he must love his brother very much, for all that he seemed cold and prickly. "You must understand that meeting Sherlock changed everything for John. He left his wife and his position as Captain of the Guard and he was a physician as well. All he had made for himself. Not just because he was gradually finding out that Magnussen was and is a truly evil man and the opposite of everything John believed in, but he was discovering that in Sherlock he found his other half. I will say this, that the two of them were more at ease together, more real, more whole than I had seen either apart, particularly my brother. Even though John left all of this behind he handed himself totally over to my brother."
"Magnussen, of course, had other ideas. Fearing Sherlock would come after him and also enraged at the idea of John simply leaving his employment, he performed a terrible act of vengeance. John's wife Mary, who unbeknownst to John at the time was also Magnussen's right hand for eliminating inconvenient people, supported him in this act. There was another woman as well, Janine, Magnussen's assistant. There is more to her I am sure, although I have yet to discover what it is. I do know Sherlock used her in an attempt to get close to Magnussen." He shrugged. "Never underestimate the hatred of someone who has been manipulated."
Mycroft stood abruptly and crossed the room to look out the window. The sky that was visible through the glass showed the night was still only half over. He sighed a sigh of great weight and sorrow.
He then turned back to Wiggins and continued his story.
"One night, not long after, Magnussen called upon the powers of darkness. Not just simple vengeance for him. He called upon every demon and creature of evil and wrapped a curse of great hatred and anger upon the two men, a potent malediction designed to punish and to keep them from interfering. Mary and Janine were drawn in and helped create the curse, their retribution part of the workings to make it stronger. Unbeknownst to Mary she was also to be cursed, turned into a serval for allowing John to escape. She still had her uses and as a hunting animal could continue to do Magnussen's bidding. Again, I find it strange that Janine was not similarly disciplined but perhaps there is more I do not know. The curse took effect on the rise of the sun the next morning and has continued every day and night since."
He sat down again, folded his arms on the desk and looked shrewdly at Wiggins. "And now I know how to unravel it."
Wiggins sat back, still wrapped up in the tale of the two men. His thoughts heavy with the images produced by Mycroft's story telling.
"'This curse, connected and controlled by the rise and setting of the sun and the moon will be broken by those two heavenly bodies. Sherlock and John must stand before Magnussen, Mary and Janine, together as two men and the curse shall fall away, never to transform them again."
"Yeah, but that's a little difficult to do if they ain't human at the same time."
"I have found a way. In a week's time there will be an eclipse. During the day the moon will pass in front of the sun causing a day without a night and a night without a day. Because of the peculiarities of such an event, they should both be human together. But they must be standing in front of all three at that moment in order for it to work.
"Be a bit awkward if they both end up as animals, though." Wiggins muttered.
Mycroft gave him a fierce glare.
"Look, this is all well and good, but Sherlock, he's planning on killing the Mage. What then?"
"He mustn't. Not until the spell is broken, or it never will be."
With a shrewd look, Wiggins asked, "Why haven't you done anything about the Mage, yourself, hmmm? If he's so bad 'n all, why you letting him run 'round free?"
"It is not always that simple, young man. One doesn't just haphazardly kill someone without knowing all the facts. First of all, getting rid of a Mage isn't that easy. Secondly, if I had killed him, where would Sherlock and John be? And lastly, he has had his uses."
Wiggins sat up straight, "Uses, eh? Oh, I see. You didn't want to get rid of him, 'cause you got something out of him being in charge. In his pocket, are you?"
"Don't be daft. He's alive and in charge because there just may be other things that are worse than Magnussen. Better the devil you know."
"Seems like a cop out, that does." Wiggins sat back with a look of having won the argument. Mycroft simply raised his eyebrow once more.
"Well Mr. Wiggins? Are you willing to help convince my brother? He won't believe me, but if I tell John this news, between the three of us, we might be able to persuade him to leave off killing Magnussen for now. And break the curse at the same time."
"I will have to think about it. I want to talk with John first. I need to know some things, see." He was quiet a minute. "You said you have a proposal. What's in it for me? No one has really said. Everyone is wanting me to do this dangerous deed of breaking back into the Tower and yet I ain't seeing why I should."
Mycroft stood and held his arm to the door, "I will tell you shortly. Let us go and see if John is awake. He will also wish to hear what I know and what I need to tell you."
Feeling he had no choice, Wiggins stood and once more followed Mycroft, this time back to John's room.
They walked in silence and entered the room. The small amount of noise they made was enough to rouse John a little. He blinked sleepily and smiled at Wiggins. His smile faltered a bit when he saw Mycroft. "What' going on? How did we end up here?"
"Do you remember what happened to you?" Mycroft asked, without any preamble.
"No, not really. I assume I was attacked. Where's Sherlock?"
"Still out on the streets. You were attacked. Mr. Wiggins brought you here on Sherlock's orders."
John sat up a little too fast. "Is Sherlock okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine." Wiggins was still angry even after all he had heard.
John frowned at the surly tone. "So what happened?"
"You were attacked by a hunting cat, a serval, Holmes called it."
John looked at Mycroft. "Mary?" he asked softly. Mycroft nodded. John looked down and swallowed. He looked back at the other two. "Mycroft, may I have some water?"
"Mr. Wiggins, will you be so kind as to fetch the water from my office? Thank you."
With a put upon sigh, Wiggins left the two men and walked back to the room he had just left. He walked in and grabbed the pitcher and a clean glass and walked back again.
He entered in time to hear John say, "Does he know?" There was a look of surprise and uneasiness sitting uncomfortably on the injured man's face.
"No, I do not believe he does. You didn't. He thinks her dead, after all."
Wiggins stopped, the jug of water feeling strangely heavy in his hand. Mycroft, for all the look of him being a slow and cautious man, moved swiftly and caught the water and glass before it fell from Wiggins' nerveless fingers.
He set the glass down and poured some water into it, handing it to John.
"This is about my sister isn't it?'
"Yes Mr. Wiggins I'm afraid it is."
"What do you mean, you're afraid? You know something and you ain't going to tell me? What is it? Is she alive? Where is she?" He was practically shouting at the two men. John looked at him with a mixture of pity and sorrow.
"She's alive, Bill," John said gently. "In fact, it looks like you already met her."
