Chapter 10: But Out of the Black~
"Sherlock?" Mycroft's voice called into the wind of night, and far away wolves howled, as if they too were searching for the wanderer with the dark and empty soul. Lonely voices calling him home, praying that he would not go back to his Grave, not truly belonging there.
"I'm here, Mycroft." Sherlock called back, and flicked a cigarette lighter. John gave him a look. Sherlock pressed his lips tightly together ,slightly annoyed, and surrendered yet another pack of cigarettes.
" We agreed you quit for good this time!" John gasped, elbowing him in the ribs.
"Oh come, what could one bloody cigarette hurt, when we have a pharmaceutical apocalypse hanging over our heads?"
" It could hurt your lungs, your heart, your skin ,possibly your idolized brain-"
"Gentlemen ,please...we do have the Apocalypse to divert, and then you can go back to bickering over Sherlock's bad habits..." said Mycroft, smiling smugly, looking ghostly in the light of the flashlight. Beside him stood Sholto, squinting against the darkness, impatiently grinding his cane into the snow.
"Where's the kid?" asked John.
"He's back by the cauldron Sherlock spilled everywhere, having a nervous breakdown. Thought he might require medical attention which is why we actually came looking for you, Doctor Watson. Finding Sherlock was only a bonus. And apparently you have discovered that there is an Apocalypse that needs diverting?" Mycroft replied, with a cheeky grin.
" You are aware that most of the miscreants we encounter are just distractions from those that we actually need to apprehend?" Sherlock began.
"Oh yes, Satan's clowns are everywhere, brother mine. Is that who you are suggesting the Mistress and her friends happen to be?"
"I'm not suggesting it, it is certain fact. I solved the code of the 7 names. They spell out A-N-A-R-C-H-Y (+ 2, the numerical code names for the Mistress and her rival Eagle being One and Only+One and Only amongst the 7)
A-N-A-R-C-H-Y +2. It's the name of a fear inducing hallucinogenic serum they plan to release upon the whole world, that is how they shall procure a Terror in which to reign."
Mycroft nodded, thoughtfully.
"Still there is the problem of finding the 7 to whom these utmost important names belong?"
Sherlock had a cold look in his eyes. "Leave that to me,..."
Everyone grew quiet ,as the shadow seemed to resurface in the man they'd known and loved...
It took only his entering the candy-lodge.
The others,(minus Hansel, who John had treated for shock, and left swathed in blankets from the cottage's shed, by the fire) stood behind Sherlock, feeling their pulses rise in alarm,at the fire in his eyes.
"Please!...please!...please!" begged Gretel, on her hands and knees.
The Mistress drew a knife.
Sherlock chuckled ,coldly.
"Go ahead. Let's see if you know how to use it..."
Her eyes went wide, as if she were intimidated by the very idea. But, mustering all of her courage, she poised the knife, and traced it over Sherlock's high cheekbones.
John gaped, as the Mistress put two slices , running like tears, down his face. The blood dripped down his face, as if he were weeping blood, and he started chuckling like thunder, and grappled with her wrist with all his strength.
She cried out in pain,as he twisted the blade out of her hand, and she fell to her knees before him, and he stood above her with the knife, poised for a moment as if he would stab her with it.
But then he turned it over to its handle, and handed it to John.
" Have a seat...I'm not going to kill you..."
"But..." Gretel began.
"Do you think I would threaten you with something like Death? It is the inevitable...death is death, it will come to you eventually, how is irrelevant...No...no what I will do to you is far worse. I will destroy you, heart and soul, until you are as empty and black as I am..."
His eyes rolled like smoke from the Inferno, and the Mistress swallowed, as if she would pass out.
"What do you want to know?"
"Oh, it's a simple question ,really. Where can I find your masters?"
"What do you plan to do with them?"
"None of your concern ,but if you would like to guess, it will be far worse than anything I could do to you...Now where ARE they? ...Any ideas? ..."
The two women had fallen silent.
"No?" Sherlock asked, and slowly began to stand up.
Gretel shrieked, and fell at his feet, groveling.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Do you really think that this will persuade me to show you mercy?"
"Ppp-pplease...Mr...Holmes...my brother...reallly doesn't deserve what you'll do to us...I only wanted to trick him -not-"
"What? DESTROY him?...Not to worry, darling, I will do no such thing to him. No, if anything I will prepare a way for him to rise out of the Black...If any one has destroyed him...it would have been yourself..."
She started to sob.
"Oh? What...can you not live with yourself? Well, maybe you could alleviate your pain just a bit...Here's a thought...betray your masters to me... so that I can save your brother's life."
"Tell him nothing, Gretel. Let him do to us whatever he wishes. We are ladies to the end..." the Mistress said.
"Ladies...?" Sherlock laughed, almost maniacaly. John felt his heart go cold. He was silently wishing like everything for the annoying, self-important flat mate of days gone by. He had been right about one thing...the man that he was was missing...Replaced by a version of himself that might be on the side of the angels, but was in every way a demon.
"LADIES? Lords, ladies, kings, queens, ROYALTY?! In the end they all die, darling. I have been to that Abyss...There was one day in my past, when I went into that Deeper Sleep...And I saw them...as I passed through the Dark. The mighty ,the wise, the old ,the young, the wicked, the righteous...Ladies and lords, gods and men, and fools! The blind and those that can see! They were ALL dead, all rotting, all of them smoking to high heaven, in Gehenna forever, WHERE THE WORM DIES NOT!"
Sherlock leaped to his feet, and Gretel crawled away, cowering against the other side of the candy lodge. The Mistress' mouth gaped.
"I saw as ravens feasted on their flesh, and dogs gnawed their bones, forever and until the planets spin out of orbit, and crash and burn away. I lay there just as I had died, and my guts lay burst about me, coiling about me, choking me, and what little air I could breath, was the foul smoke of the Pit. So, go ahead, remain a "lady".."(he said the last word with a nasal, mocking tone).
"But in the end you shall be with them...Unless you change your course of direction, you will go to that terrible place, and rise no more. An act of God only that I escaped...And don't think that I shall be lenient...Don't think that ,out of pity, I will spare you...no. I am the spirit of Justice,...and remember ladies...I am still thirsty...Now...unless you want me to set ablaze a madness in you that will make this Pit feel like a holiday...tell me...where are the Masters ?"
" Chernobyl! They're in Chernobyl, all 7, finishing with the serum. They lack one ingredient, one that if the Mistress can perfect she can win the contest!"
"GRETEL!" the Mistress shrieked, slapping the girl across the face.
"Well done, Gretel! You passed my test!" Sherlock laughed, no longer seeming imposing. He yanked the girl up by her arm, and pushed her into John's hands.
"See to it that she's had proper medical attention, and is reconciled with her brother quickly ,would you, Doctor Watson?" he said, with an impish laugh, as if reveling in that he had tricked her.
"As for you..." Sherlock said to the Mistress, and suddenly, he had the cigarette lighter in his one hand, and another vial of chemicals in his other.
"You have a test to take yourself..."he said smiling wickedly.
"Sherlock?" John asked nervously.
"The rest of you clear off. Let 's see how quickly the Queen of the Dead and her humble servant the Ghost can escape a burning building?"
"Sherlock, I will not allow you to possibly jeopardize the Mission, with one of your imbecile..." Mycroft began.
Sherlock poured the chemical in his mouth, swished it around, sprayed it into the air, and breathed over the lighter at the same time, against the wall, catching it on fire.
With a cry, John pulled the others (were staring aghast) out of the blaze, and watched as Sherlock circled the Mistress, breathing fire, snickering and mocking.