Chapter 14: Sworn of Icarus~
"Sherlock..."
He hangs by the thread of that voice, between heaven and the earth,between the Spirit that is calling him and John's strong arms, as he pulls him into an elevator, and takes him up the stairs.
"Sherlock..."
"I'm here...Sir."
Sherlock for a moment is standing in the same white room,with the couch and the many colored blankets...the room in the mind palace, (or another mind palace entirely that he has access to through his own) where he meets his Teacher.
The Galilean turns around. Sherlock takes his image in. Same lion-golden eyes, and chestnut hair...wise eyes, a look in them as if he is Ancient of Days...and yet he couldn't be any older than 33, around the same age as Sherlock is.
"Sherlock..." says the Teacher, with a sad smile. Sherlock waits for him to speak, to show him the error of his calculations, what he needs to do better to get this result, so he can get the others safely home.
He used to get a thrill from his Work. And he still has a passion for the sport, but it's different now. There isn't any thrill to life anymore, there is only a desperate need to protect, to spare the others from the cruelty that is as deeply entwined in his soul, as those hooks were twisting in his bones.
"Yes...sir?" Sherlock asks, fidgeting, hands folded behind his back, his coat somehow whole and without blood stains here, his scarf caught up in an unseen wind.
The Teacher pulls away from the window.
"Do you know why I sent you back to them in the first place?" Sherlock thinks on this for a moment...
"No."
The Teacher nods..."For the same reason that I sent you to the children of Anders Yeats. Redemption..."
"I'm afraid I don't follow you...which should flatter you, as it is very rare that I can't follow anyone."
"It wasn't time for you to Sleep, when you fell from that rooftop...Sherlock. It's not time for you to go now...This was never meant to be your end. Darkness. Pain. Totally lost...
Whether you believe it or not, you are human, and you exist for the purpose of love. To love and to be loved, which is the reason why Justice itself exists, so that all the scales may be equal between all people, equality and peace being at the heart of Love itself. I sent you back to find your heart again...Go to him, Sherlock. He is in pain. Heal your Physician, and so heal yourself."
"Sir?"
"Sherlock?!"
It is not the Teacher that speaks to him now, but John, who has laid him in the bed of the room in the Haven again.
It was like Divine revelation in that moment.
John.
The look of pain on his face. The strain all of this had put on him. How his Great Darkness was threatening to kill John's Light.
If Sherlock Holmes was ever going to recover from his torment, it would be for the same reason he chose to allow himself to endure it in the first place. His reason to live. His John.
Sherlock feels his heart wake up right then, his pulse fluttering like a bird pulling itself out of the ashes in which it was buried alive. He's in tears suddenly, and he reaches both hands to John's face, holding it, wondering to himself, "Stupid..of course...He still needs you... how could you even allow yourself to think about Sleeping?"
"Hey..." John laughed, clutching Sherlock's wrists..." You bloody well scared me just now! I thought you were checking out on me..."
"I would never do that to you..." Sherlock answered, and John's eyes lit up understanding.
"No...Of course you wouldn't..."
John propped Sherlock up, and turned around to set out the backpack he tucked his medical bag down in so he could carry it more efficiently.
"I think you should be in the hospital ,but Mycroft said it was too risky. You missed Sinead's dramatic confession, well most of it, because you lost conciousness from blood loss pretty quickly. He had just been telling you, about how he was planning on raising the dead. Did you figure that part out, 'cause Mycroft was clueless as to what that was supposed to mean, when I told him. For Mycroft to be clueless...it has to be pretty confusing."
"Oh, no, it's easy, Mycroft must have just tried to over complicate it..."
"Well, he had a lot on his mind...you were really bad off there for a little bit. We were afraid we were going to lose you. You've proved us wrong once more as always..."
"I TOLD you it wouldn't be the same as last time."
John smiled at him, knowing that he always kept his promises.
"Yes. Yes , you did."
"It's easy, Sinead wants to use the serum to cause a mass hysteria Seance. Meaning, he wants to cause people to hallucinate into thinking they are seeing the faces, and hearing the voices of the dead. Of people they killed... He has his own little ingredient to add to the serum, and the first person he intended to use it on was the Mistress, because she strangled his lover. And the next set he wanted to use it on are his Seven Masters, to keep them under his thumb. Heaven forbid he actually win the contest fairly, no..he rigged it. Tricked the Mistress into rigging it for him. Had to bully me, because I complicated his plans, by destroying the final ingredient the Mistress had unwittingly made for him, to seal his betrayal of her." Sherlock explained.
John laughed, "Bravo. Solved all of that , after having sustained major injuries, and losing about 25 percent of your body's blood."
Sherlock gaped.
"Now that you've cleared that bit up, let me tell you, it gets even better. He confessed to , as soon as he releases this serum, planning to make the Seven Masters his little puppets. He is going to arrange for the murder of Anders Yeats, which is Peter and Margaret (Hansel and Gretel's) dad's proper name. Get this: Anders is the people's favorite candidate for Prime Minister of Denmark. Once he's been offed, and Sinead gets his revenge on him, he'll have to have a replacement, it will throw the elections way off. So, Sinead means to take his place and campaign for the Ministry of Denmark, and then rig it all where he gets the position..."
"So that he will be in the most strategic place of power to steer Loki's Gauntlet into worldwide government overthrow, and the creation of a World Wide anarchy. Start small, like with the little country of Denmark, work your way up... corrupt Germany next, by laundering Denmark's money (using all the Horatio Milverton methods) to the heads of the Gauntlet there, giving them the means to take over, and ,next, move to the UK...which the only way you're getting in there is to get to Mycroft Holmes. Already tried to assassinate him the last go around, that didn't work. So, instead, get to him by getting to his little brother. Which is why Sinead came to warn me." Sherlock's eyes lit up. This was worse than he previously thought.
"Whereas he wanted the Seven Masters for puppets, he wanted you to be his "hero" his "gallant knight",his "Prince of Denmark". He meant to perfect the serum especially for you, to bring you under his control. Not just his puppet; your mind's too powerful for that. His secret weapon, the very incarnation of Loki's Gauntlet itself, his "iron fist"."
"Really, John? Even I don't have such high opinions of myself."
"Yeah...like you'd actually fall for it,right? Anyway, he wanted to get to you, and recreate you with drugs into being some kind of robotic master assassin, that would kill off Mycroft, and worm your way through the doors of Parliament for him. Until you had taken down the system you swore to protect. After which he planned to have a public exectuion of the Masters, performed by you, in front of the rest of the Gauntlet...and then...when it was all over, the coup de gras of the whole thing...he was going to make you kill me, and then sacrifice us both in some weird Gauntlet ritual, and let the Anarchy begin,with himself as the closest thing to an Anarchist King as you get."
Sherlock laid there staring at John for full 5 minutes. "Do people really have such illusions of grandeur? James Moriarty would be laughing this fool to scorn right now."
"You've foiled the entire plan though." Gretel said, bursting into the room just then.
John helped Sherlock sit a little more upwards...
"By burning your Mistress' laboratory?" Sherlock asked, curling a brow.
Major followed Gretel in, the wings he'd plucked off Sinead's costume wrapped in plastic now.
"Well, that, and by not fitting into their mold." Gretel said, grinning impishly. Mycroft and Hansel came in last, Hansel closing the door, and smiling boldly, given the courage to defy the system he'd been raised in.
"Do you care to explain to me what exactly I have supposedly done, Ms. Yeats?" Sherlock asked bewildered.
Gretel laughed. "Well, believe it or not, you did all this, just by being yourself."
Sherlock's brow curled, confused. Just being himself, had lead to his death by Falling in a previous life. How did it help them now?
Hansel stepped forward, "Remember when you said, that Sinead had picked you as his specimen for the blood eagle?"
Sherlock's eyes lit up, and John sensed that he had finished piecing their puzzle back together.
Gretel laughed, "You see, in the Gauntlet system, the next Gauntlet bearer, who is basically the head chairman of the whole order, has to pick an "Artifact", or a glorious act that he has to complete before he can be worthy of his new title. Blood Eagle's "Artifact" was to perform the "blood eagle" on a victim of his choice. The Artifact becomes the symbol of the Gauntlet bearer, his very identity. He has to swear by that Artifact. Well, he made you his Artifact, and he gave you a stage name, like all Gauntlet members have. You are his "Icarus"."
Sherlock laughed..."Oh, I can't imagine where he got THAT name..."
The Major looked up slowly,"Icarus was the character in Greek mythology that flew too close to the sun, and so his makeshift wings were melted off, and he fell to his dramatic death..."
"You got too close to their "sun" or Moriarty, and you fell to your death." John whispered.
"But because you returned to life, via Lazarus syndrome...because you were able to foil all of the Gauntlet's plans, being a vital player in the Game that lead to the end of Sebastian Moran, and because you sabotaged Sinead's every plan, and now because the Major has ripped off the wings from Sinead's costume, the wings being his symbol, and has placed them in your possesion...And because nobody else could foil Sinead..."Gretel began...
"That makes me the winning contestant, and I wasn't even playing the Game." Sherlock laughed.
"With these'" Hansel cried, lifting up the wings, "You could call a parley with the Seven Masters. Because Sinead is sworn to Icarus, he would also have to appear. You could gather them all under one roof, force them to destroy their serum, as its part of their code..."
"Bag them and rubbish them all!" Major cried, catching on.
"Will he be in danger?" John asked,nervously.
"Is it really that simple?" Mycroft asked, eyeing Sherlock curiously.
"To answer both of your questions..yes...it will be dangerous...of course it will. And no, there's no way it could be that simple. But I am sworn to Justice, and will do what I must." Sherlock reasoned.
A silence fell, and Mycroft nodded...
" You know how to make contact with the Masters?" he asked Gretel.
"Yes, sir."
"Then you will assist me in doing so. You others, except the Doctor,occupy yourselves in surveillance while we are detained. Sherlock will need rest before we make another move..."
And with that, the others left John alone with the current reigning King in Terror.