A/N: I have been to the Tower of London a couple of times – lately with my lovely friend johnsarmylady and our children, so I do know the lay of the land, but I have taken a bit of artistic license with a few things:

Thanks to mattsloved1 for checking this for me:)

Still don't own!

9. The Eclipse

It was going to be such a good day, clear and sunny; so full of potential and there would be good visibility to watch the celestial event. He hummed to himself, something light and spritely, rather like the feeling he had inside his chest. Unusual.

They were coming for him today. It was going to be flawless. He would have Holmes and Watson in his grasp and once he had them he would also have Mycroft and there would be three more irritations dealt with. He should really have planned this long ago, this instead of the curse. At the time the curse served its purpose and really it had been out of his hands. It had been so beautifully wrought and he had been intensely captivated by the effects. Something like that, made out of nightmares and pain, once dreamt of, needed to be unleashed and admired. It had served as a warning as well, that he wasn't to be trifled with.

He entered his throne room, the perfect room, with a window at the right angle to catch the eclipse, frame it just so when it started, the glass having been removed so the view wouldn't be obscured. He looked around carefully, checking to see if Janine had completed the list he had tasked her with. She was so efficient and so talented. She almost knew what he wanted before he did himself. Ah yes, everything was ready, everything polished and cleaned, everything looking just so, right down to his little Mary sitting at the foot of his throne. Janine would be rewarded for bringing her back.

"Hello Mary, so nice to see you again. You didn't try very hard. You should have been able to capture at least one of them for me. If I had one, I'd soon have the other." She growled at him, her neck straining against the collar he had had Janine place around her neck. He wagged a finger at her. "Now, now, that is no way to talk. You failed. You know if you cannot do a simple job, I have no use for you. You have been a very bad girl. Very bad. So now we use a collar and a leash. Just accept it and move on, hmmm?" He bent down to pat her on the head and her growl intensified. He leaned into her face. "Do not even think about it, my dear." He grabbed the leash near where it was attached to the collar and shook it hard and then stroked her head. "There now, much better. See? We can be friends again. As long as you simply do what I ask." He shook her again as she lay at his feet panting, growls subsiding.

He sat, crossed his legs and raised a hand. A servant came with coffee in a beautiful porcelain cup. Very hard to get these days but he had his connections. Janine saw to it he had his coffee every day. What a well-trained girl she was.

Yes it was going to be a beautiful day.

And look the fun was about to begin. Right on time.

oOo

"Well Lord, I didn't think I'd be talking to you again just yet. Still a little miffed about all of this, but who am I to question your wisdom? Oh lord…little lord, not you Lord… this is mucky work. I know I am supposed to commit myself into your hands, but I've already done this once! I've come full circle, coming back here to the Tower. I'd like to think there is some higher purpose in this. It certainly would reflect well on you."

Wiggins was crawling on hands and knees, slowly, painfully, through a disused access tunnel. Long hidden in Tower lore, it had been put to use when the building had been modernized, bringing in telecommunications and electrical cables. When the Change hit, it was forgotten and as the river altered its banks and crept higher it had become wet with damp. Slime and moss trailed along the old brickwork, created green and black patterns, reminiscent of maps Wiggins could remember looking at as a boy. These were more like hidden trails the Fair Folk would use, for he could not read the lay of the land hidden on the walls of the tunnel. Best get back to concentrating Bill. Wouldn't do to not be paying attention and miss a turn. It had been a long time since he was last here and his mind had become somewhat addled thanks to the Fairy Dust he'd consumed. Since hooking up with Holmes and Watson he hadn't really craved anything stronger than water. Those two were enough to keep adrenalin pumping through his veins and his mind occupied.

In the gloom from the torch he carried, one that Holmes the elder had procured for him from somewhere, he could see that up ahead there was a fork, a junction where the tunnel had split into two. There was a decision to be made and he had to think. The last time through here he had been coming the other way and high with fear, dread flavouring his spit, anticipation of being caught sang in his blood. He closed his eyes and thought back, trying to access memories the way Holmes had been showing whilst they had waited. He had to go deep, back farther than he had practiced. He was distracted by recent events, several in particular, Holmes arguing with him about coming, Watson arguing with Holmes about coming. A distressing conversation overheard between the two brothers. The image of Mycroft gave him the errant thought he was the only one who hadn't wanted to tag along. Just as well, that poncy git in his fancy clothes would have balked at first sight of the water Wiggins was kneeling in.

"Do move along, Wiggins," drawled that annoyingly posh baritone voice from behind him. "We do need to get there today and the eclipse will not wait for us."

Wiggins sighed and glanced behind him. Holmes of course had won and was following behind. He didn't seem to be afraid to get dirty. John had stayed with Mycroft, mostly due to the fact he could be outvoted in bird form. "I thought you didn't believe in that?"

"I don't, but it is a convenient distraction. Magnussen will be interested and will probably be scouring the heavens. Perhaps there is dark magic to weld under its influence. Either way he is going to die today, so let's get a move on, shall we?"

"Yeah, I'm trying, but I figure you'd rather not get lost down here and starve to death."

He turned and thought some more. "This way," he said at last.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," he muttered.

They made their way slowly until finally they reached an old metal door. It looked as if it hadn't been unsealed in years. There must have been a trick to it because after a few moments of huffing and swearing Wiggins managed to get it open and squeezed through. The space was barely wide enough for Holmes. He commented, "John wouldn't have made it through. Good thing he stayed behind."

"He would have done in current form. You know, I don't think he'd gonna thank you for that." Wiggins stopped. The overheard conversation had been tugging at his mind and he had to ask. He wanted to along the way but had been too busy trying to get them here in one piece. "Are you gonna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"About what you asked your brother to do?"

Holmes' face shuttered closed. "That is not your concern."

"'Cause I am thinking that maybe it's not what John would want."

"We are not having this discussion."

Wiggins shrugged. "I think he'd have liked a choice. I know I would."

Abruptly Wiggins found himself shoved up against a wall. "Do you have any idea what it's like? Do you?" hissed Holmes. "Living like this. We are not even alive. We just exist. No intellect, no complex feelings, just instinct. And nothing else." He shoved Wiggins hard again. "We are on a suicide mission in case you have forgotten. We aren't coming back from this. I will not let John live a half life without me, without any hope."

Before he could be shoved yet again, Wiggins placed his hands on Holmes' chest, stopping him. "You had hope. You just chose not to listen. Your brother says this will work, but you didn't bring John with you. Are you too scared or do you simply not like your brother to be right, 'cause either way it's stupid? John don't need your protection from this."

The face before him crumpled for a moment and Holmes looked down. He whispered, "He's all I have." Wiggins reached to grip this shoulder, but before he could the shutters closed once more. Holmes straightened and tugged his clothing back into place. "We will not discuss this again. We are here to end this, not to be maudlin. This is not the time nor place. Get me to Magnussen, now." There was a brief suspension of time hanging between them, a breath of air and then Holmes looked at Wiggins. In the dark it was hard to see much, but there was a depth of pain swimming in his eyes that shone through the gloom. "Bill, it's really not your business."

Eyes narrowed and chin thrust out, Wiggins nodded tightly, but he couldn't help himself. He had to say this last piece, "You're wrong. It is my business and having Mycroft kill John when this all goes to hell is not what you should have asked him to do. I think you're too afraid to live."

Holmes just looked at him darkly, silently, neither acknowledging Wiggins nor denying his comment. They continued down the old hallway and finally came out another unused door hidden behind a covering of some sort of climbing vine. The old grassy courtyard was open and empty. The two men looked around suspiciously but there was nothing and no one. It felt too easy as they made their way along the old tourist paths and past a cage full of ravens, arguing in the morning light.

"I see even Magnussen sticks to the old traditions," drawled Holmes.

"When it suits him. This way. He likes sitting in what he calls the throne room. Use to be big glass cases there held armour and weapons and stuff. I remember from before. My dad use to like coming here."

"And you had the opportunity to see Magnussen there when you were here last?"

"Yeah, when they first brought me in." He looked sullenly at Holmes. "But I ain't talking about it."

"Just get me there."

He turned and continued to make his way along the pathways until he found the building they were looking for. In the old days, back before, everything had been conveniently marked for visitors. Now Wiggins was relying on his faulty memory. They crept up the stairs feeling very exposed, down a short corridor and entered a large room. They made their way through a short labyrinth, still not meeting anyone along the way

"It's got to be a trap."

Holmes looked at him the way he did with people who simply did not think. He scowled, rolled his eyes and whispered back, "of course it's trap." At that moment both noticed at the far end of the room, there he was, finally, The Mage, perched on his throne like a malevolent crow, without a care, sipping at something hot, the steam from the cup curling and caressing his face, as he wore a smug and satisfied look.

"Gentlemen, how good of you to join me. Mr. Wiggins, nice of you to return. It's been too long and Mr. Holmes the younger. But I am distressed, where is your beloved partner, the honourable Captain Watson? Mary was so looking forward to seeing him. She didn't get to convey all she wished the last time you met. Although I did hear he was injured. Could he not come with you? You realize the curse can't be broken unless you are both here." He smiled at them. From where they stood it could have been mistaken for something benign, something almost fatherly.

"Did you bring Captain Watson's gun, Mr. Holmes? I think you did. You plan to kill me. It won't do you any good. I am thoroughly protected by magic, you see. You can't harm me. Go ahead. Try. Come on, try Mr. Holmes."

At first he had looked stunned by Magnussen's cold speech, but with a cry of rage Holmes drew the gun from the pocket of his coat and aimed. He definitely pulled the trigger and there was a loud retort from the weapon, but Magnussen just stood and laughed. Wiggins knew they were too close to have missed.

"You see? You can't kill me. And why would you foolish man? Your Captain is not here, the eclipse will soon begin and your curse will go on. Kill me before then and you will understand nothing."

There was a subtle shift in the light, as if a cloud were passing in front of the sun. Holmes looked to the window above. It just confirmed what he already knew. It was not a cloud. Just there, framed in the window, a quick glance so as to avoid hurting his eyes, the dark sliver of the moon began its passage, darkening, concealing the warm rays of the sun.

Magnussen stepped closer to the pair. "Do you feel it Mr. Holmes, the change? Do you feel it in your molecules, in your atoms, in your DNA? Your body is confused. The eclipse is beginning and the moon is appearing but you don't change.

A grin split Magnussen's face and he leaned forward. "You understand now, don't you? You should have brought him with you. You would then be standing here together, side by side, both as men. Not that it would have done you any good."

The look of understanding turned to one of horror on Holmes' face. Holmes started to sink to the floor, but caught himself with a shudder. He refused to collapse, here in this place, in front of this man. The unearthly eyes turned to Wiggins. "What have I done? I told Mycroft. I told him I would kill Magnussen, but if the eclipse happened and we didn't come back to kill John. What have I done?"

He turned to the frame of sky and screamed out one word, a raw and lonely sound.

"John!"

The useless gun rose, anger raked his face, "Damn you. Damn you to hell." But before he could fire again, there was a sound, low and tender at the back. In reply to that harsh call one word came the response. One word said simply with love and joy.

"Sherlock?"

A pause, long and reverent. Holmes closed his eyes, his brow furrowed. He dared not look, in case it was not real, in case it was too much. Then the pain and anguish cleared and was replaced with wonder and elation. He had heard a voice he had only dreamt of and had desperately missed the last two years.

He turned.

Watson stood there, slightly shadowed by the velvet curtains, almost as obscured from Sherlock's vision, as he had been through this torturous journey, a slightly bemused look on his face. The look he gave Sherlock reminded him of when they had first met and John impressed and dazzled him with a noteworthy 'brilliant' in reaction to his deductions of him. This time it was John who was brilliant. Who stood there in simple splendour, wholly human, his honest and careworn face the most beautiful thing Sherlock had ever seen. When John's eyes caught Sherlock's it was as if there was no one else in the word, they were the only two existing. The moment stretched between them, charged with electricity and promise. It reached the point where the room vibrated with unspoken tension and John took a step forward and at the exact instant, so did Sherlock. They both moved so fast toward one another they were blurred. There was a loud crash as they came together. Sherlock grabbed John's face and held it, his eyes drinking in a sight he thought to never see again, his fingers tracing his jaw, his cheeks, wonder in his touch, fear that it would disappear to quickly, that it wasn't real, he'd wake up in a cold and lonely bed as a hawk took John's place. The expression was mirrored on John's face and he reached up on his toes, and kissed Sherlock soundly. He drew back a little and said, "It's true. It worked."

"How?" Sherlock's voice choked out. "I told…how?"

John laughed, such a beautiful sound. "You marvellous, idiotic man. We will have words after this is over. Mycroft followed behind you two, so intent were you on getting here, neither of you noticed."

They stood in the eerie light from the growing eclipse, framed and captured in its unearthly radiance and there was a moment of fierce intensity as the two men ignored everything and just looked at each other and then Sherlock bent down and wrapped his arms around John and pulled him close as if he were trying to absorb John into his skin, keep him there so he could never leave, so he would be safe. John closed his eyes and inhaled the rich fragrance of Sherlock's own unique scent, a silent tear leaked from his eye as he did. Then he lifted his head and their lips met again and this time there were no pauses and no stopping. The kiss went on for an age and it rather looked as if they might never end it, when a throat cleared and they broke apart, still grinning madly, still holding each other with arms and bodies and eyes. Sherlock risked a look and saw his brother standing at the back of the room, "Oh, it's you," he said, a scowl on his face. "Mycroft, I asked you to do one thing for me and you couldn't even manage that."

"Hey!" John said and swatted him. "He would have killed me if he'd done."

"Yes, but now I have to be grateful to him," muttered Sherlock.

Mycroft smirked at the two men and then said, "If you have quite finished for the moment, we have some business to attend to." Wiggins was surprised to see him here, having thought he wouldn't have wanted to get mucky. He did look odd in what could loosely be termed street clothes, jeans and a pullover, both covered in muck from the tunnels.

Mycroft turned to face Magnussen. "My men have entered the premises and are detaining your forces. It would be wise of you to surrender. Now that your curse has been broken, we can be rid of you. You have lost."

Magnussen stared at Mycroft and then began to laugh. At first it was silently, his shoulders shaking, but it couldn't be contained and he tilted his head back. Great peals of laughter rang from his mouth, not merry but harsh and satisfied, cruel. He wiped away tears that had formed in his eyes.

"Oh you fools. You stupid fools. Do you think I would let you do this so easily? Do you think I do not have plans laid, that I did not anticipate all contingencies?" He laughed harder. He continued between gasps of breath, "This is beautiful and perfect. You still believe it is me and that I will be caught and subdued so easily. It does pay to have good advertising. Of course," the laughter was subsiding and turning into quieter chuckles, "of course I have good help. Good help that will not let you harm me."

"I don't understand," said John, puzzled. "We're standing here. Together. Both as men. The curse is broken."

"Oh yes, that part worked and yes the curse is broken as long as the eclipse continues but once the moon finishes its journey it will be day again and you, will be your usual dumb and witless self, only as the hawk once more." He giggled a bit longer. "You have a few more minutes and then sadly no more. Not until the next eclipse which won't happen for a very long time. How terribly sad."

John looked at Sherlock, eyes pleading for enlightenment. He was looking at the ground. Wiggins could see thoughts racing across his face. Dawn broke across Holmes' face and he looked back at Magnussen, fiercely. "You are not a mage. You just call yourself that."

"I? No, I have never had a magical bone in my body. I just know how to use people so very well. I have always gathered and controlled useful individuals."

Understanding bloomed across Sherlock's face. He clapped his hands to his head, "Stupid. I have been so stupid." He closed his eyes. "Of course."

"What?" asked John.

Sherlock turned to John, wonder and love still there in his eyes but pain and sorrow were reclaiming their depths.

"Moriarty. He was behind this. He was the mage."

"But he was killed before we left. It couldn't have been him."

"No," said Sherlock, "but magic runs in families. Who else do we know, employed by Magnussen, dark hair and eyes and has an Irish accent? It's too much of a coincidence."

A soft lilting voice came from off to the side.

"Very good, Mr. Holmes. But it took you long enough." Janine stepped out of the shadows of the drapes, walked forward and stood by Magnussen's side.

Magnussen scowled. "You were told to stay back so the curse would not be broken. They are free of it now, stupid girl"

Janine looked down at Magnussen. "I am tired of that."

"Tired of what?"

"Being belittled by you. It was fun in the beginning, taking over for Jim dear, hiding my powers, keeping quiet so I wouldn't meet the same fate as my beloved brother but I think I'm done now. You were very handy to use, to control from behind the scenes." A dark and complicated expression crossed her features and she reached over to Magnussen and stroked his cheek, just once. "Bye!" she said cheerfully.

Staring at her, his mouth open just a little, Magnussen started to shake and his body convulsed uncontrollably, drool escaping down his chin. John started forward but Sherlock grabbed his arm holding him back. "No, don't. You can't do anything for him. And why would you?"

In a matter of seconds Magnussen was dead.

Janine turned and faced the three men. "Hello boys," she smiled at them, her face beautiful, but her eyes cold and dark.