Chapter 16~ To Love's Holy Flame~
"Ladies and Gentleman, and people of the Dark Arts. Today we gather here, on the sainted steps of St. Nicholas, to crown he who shall haunt the dreams of every living soul from the Eastern Sunrise, to the Western Fall. ALL HAIL, ICARUS, KING OF THE NIGHT!"
John drew a shaky breath. Normally, he would feel terrible about breaking in here after church hours, very late in the night of the same day Sherlock was brutally attacked in the back alley of the Haven.
But Mycroft and Sherlock had developed a plan to make sure they bagged everything and everyone pertaining to this "Hallucinogenic Epidemic" (which was the title of the file this particular case's confidential information was put under, and sent to Vauxhall Cross). They had come clean to the Presidential Palace of Finland ,explaining the whole situation to them. They had contacted the current Prime Minister of Denmark, as well as her Majesty the Queen of the Danes, and Mycroft's people had moved like mice in the shadows, rounding up a protection unit of Danish troupes, and a private military jet flight. After an hour and a half long flight, they had brought the Minister and His Queen to full-intel of Loki's Gauntlet ,as well as bringing them physically to Finland.
By roughly 6 o'clock that evening, the Presidential Palace of Helsinki was alive with a meeting of World Powers, and a huge passel of journalists covering the subject, come to witness for themselves the "Coronation of Icarus". Meanwhile the 7 Masters, and the Blood Eagle thought that the meeting Gretel and Mycroft had called tonight at 8 o'clock in the sanctuary of the "Church of St. Nicholas", was still top secret.
John called Greg and the "girls" (meaning Mrs. Hudson and Molly) earlier, and had told them to turn their tellys to channel 24, because tonight Sherlock was going to be on the international news.
"Hello, John. I didn't even know you and Sherlock had left the country?" Molly said when she'd answered the phone.
John laughed. "Last minute flight, you know how he is. Well, anyway, it's almost Christmas. And apparently Sherlock decided to get you girls ,and Greg, World Peace for Christmas this time."
Molly smiled ,brightly. "Uhmm,...well...bit out of his budget though...rather expensive gift that, oh!, uhhh...not that I have anything at all against it, I mean who doesn't love World Peace?"
John laughed and looked over at Sherlock, because of his wounds ,hardly able to resist the make up team changing his appearance from "Sherlock Holmes" to "Icarus".
"Must I really wear this ridiculous contraption?" Sherlock whined to Mycroft.
"You are an agent of MI6 that actually DIED over a year ago. Unless you truly wish to live up to the title of "King in Terror" and be harassed by spiritist/ paparazzi until you leave this Earth for good, I suggest for ONCE ,brother mine, you do as I say..." Mycroft gasped, exasperated.
Sherlock had been stuck down inside an ancient suit of plate armor, that the agents had fortified as a sort of body cast for all of his injuries, as well as a stage prop. They had affixed the wings to the back of it, stuck a helmet on top of Sherlock's head, and painted his face like a character in a Japanese opera, white face make up, red lips.
"Really, does it have to be so THEATRICAL? You'd think I was going on the Barbican, not the bloody news!"
Mycroft reached a makeup sponge, and put a huge pat of powder on both of Sherlock's high-boned cheeks.
"Play the part, brother mine!"
"Here you always say that I am the DRAMATIC one..." Sherlock muttered, indignantly twitching his nose.
"You aren't going to recognize Sherlock, or me either, when you see us. We'll be wearing Renaissance armor, and have our faces painted like geishas." John chuckled.
Molly blinked on her end of the line. Swallowed, confused, not even really knowing what in blazes John was on about, but being the saint that she was , patiently hearing him out.
"Oh...uhmm...well...surprise me then."
"Think we definitely will...Ok, talk to you later ,Molly."
As they hung up, John picked up the huge lion-crested shield they were making him carry. The Major was practicing swinging a battle axe that was part of his costume.
John began to wonder how much of the news was staged . Began to wonder if the world would truly momentarily find some peace tonight?
He took one look at Sherlock and realized, that if only for a moment, if only for a breath, his world had found Peace.
Sherlock was going to heal.
If there was no other purpose that Hansel's Defiance had accomplished, it had accomplished this. Sherlock had taken a journey into his own soul, and been forced to see the light that was hidden there. And he had found it, what he had been looking for, what Hansel had been looking for, what Gretel was ready to make herself a slave to a maniac anarchy system for...The hardest sought thing in the Universe, and the easiest found, the source of all Light, and Truth and Meaning. And it lives in every one of us, and it is love. Love that dares to defy the mold, to make the change. Love's holy flame consumes all fear, everytime. In the end, love would always win, no matter how Dark, or how great a Terror. John smiled.
Yes, the world was at Peace now.
"Well, are you ready for this?" John asked.
Sherlock drew the sword that went with his costume.
"It's a bit like Halloween or some such...I feel indescribably silly. And here I'm supposed to be the "King in Terror"."
John smiled at him, and Sherlock turned to look.
"Say it..." Sherlock practically purred, eyes flickering like two blue candle flames, trying to be menacing.
"I'm not saying anything..."
"You're laughing..."
"I'm NOT, I haven't said..."
By the time he finished that sentence he was laughing, and Sherlock was laughing too, both of them laughing so hard, they were breathless and in tears.
"Ach!, look what you made me do, and now I have to make a speech. Better hope for your sake my voice doesn't crack out there. After all, the security of civilization sort of depends on this going right..." Sherlock hissed.
"Ok, and when we get done securing civilization, what would you like for dinner?"
"You aren't taking this overly seriously are you,John?"
"Well ,see that's it. I'm done. I'm done losing you. I'm done being afraid. Go out there and tell the Devil he can do his worst. I'm ready."
"Alright...Question?"
"All ears."
"While I'm out there on camera, could you steal one of Satan's ash trays for me?"
"We've been over this ,I'm not stealing you a bloody ash tray. And you've quit smoking, doctor's orders."
Sherlock growled.
"I'm serious about the smoking, Sherlock."
"John?"
"What?"
"May I suggest a box of nicotine patches for my Christmas?"
Just then it was time for him to go, and make peace for the world.
John laughed, clapping him on the back, making the faux wings shake. The bright lights of cameras and action made Sherlock squint, and stumble. He felt dizzy, and suddenly, he was faced with his darkest fear; standing on the roof of St. Bart's again, failing John again...
But then he felt John's hand on his shoulder again, in a place that was more cloth than armor.
They were in the place of St. Nicholas now. It was almost Christmas, and there would be peace on earth.
Everything was well. John was here beside him.
It wasn't like last time, it would never be that way again. It was time to start again. A new life. An actual life , and not just existing.
There was danger on every side. Very soon the 7 Masters, and the Eagle would come, with their liquid Armageddon in tow, sworn to Icarus, but not in any sort of respect. They could release it here and now, unless Sherlock played his part very well. This would be no simple task.
He wasn't afraid. He would never be afraid again.
John had fallen in stride with him now, and for once, all was well...