6. Title ; Socks, Hell, Homer
Crossover with : Dante's Inferno
Rating : PG
Summary : Sherlock ends up in Limbo with a glut of Virtuous Pagans. Written after I'd asked an anagram website for all possible combinations of "Sherlock Holmes".
Socks, Hell, Homer
Sherlock's final plan, in the way of all masterplans, had an unexpected fallout.
Not only did it slightly derail, toppling him head first into the Afterworld, but the Immortals were now having a field day trying to sort his fate. Hell was vociferous in its opinion that Sherlock's selfishness, rudeness and complete irresponsibility in saddling them with Jim Moriarty warranted a no-limit gift voucher for damnation. Heaven begged to remind Hell that Sherlock had died willing to sacrifice, if not his life, at least his fame, and that he'd be lockpicking his way past Peter anyway, so why not admit him directly.
Sherlock, after a few vain suggestions that they consult him on his choice, had slipped off and down quietly. Fire and brimstone were droolworthy experiment material, not to mention a first-hand tutorial with a number of Popes on the fine art of poisoning. Unfortunately for him, Heaven had already slipped Charon a few extra pennies, and Sherlock ended up stuck in the First Circle with a glut of Virtuous Pagans.
A fortnight after his arrival, the Virtuous Pagans went into meltdown and sent up a petition. They also sent up Homer to recite the petition, which had been couched in virulent hexameters. Sherlock, the hexameters complained, was a disgrace to the place. He'd driven both Thales and Euclid out of their wits by demanding they revise zero-based computing to accomodate Internet in Limbo. He kept calling Hippocrates John and, on one memorable occasion, had asked Queen Penthasilea to make him tea. There had even been mention of sugar - two pieces, mark the decadence! His deductions of Cicero's past political arrangements had been entirely uncalled-for. His hyacinthine curls and bright-eyed winks were derouting more than a fair share of kouroi from their virtuous agenda.
Even worse, he was the only worthy in Limbo to wear socks, and his flat refusal to stroll barefoot like everyone else, or even stroll at all, was an affront to their collective ethos. Limbo was humbly, firmly and dactylically expecting Above to deal with the mess. Or face the music and let Sherlock go sto diaolo.
Once Homer had said his say, with a last angry twirl of harp, Above made a quick survey of its own pristine venues. Granted, the man had defeated two mass-murderers and played a mean violin. Still... with the Archangelic elections at close quarters... and taking in consideration the Wise Virgin Anthea's latest report...
A compromise was struck between the two realms and Sherlock woke up, dizzy and disoriented, under London Bridge. He was rather surprised to find himself an old wizened man with a thatch of white hair and a collection of ancient books that included the complete works of Catullus. Still, the Virtuous Pagans, for all their resentment, had allowed him to keep his socks, and the warm woolly feel was enough to direct him towards John and Baker Street, happily hobbling.
[A/N: both the ending and "the complete works of Catullus" are a wink to ACD's canon story, "The Empty House".]