AN: So... ummm... here's the next chapter. Sorry about the wait. I didn't, and haven't, forgotten this story, I was simply mugged by Real Life and this was sorta swept under the rug with a lot of other stuff. Again: Sorry about the wait. I hope you all enjoy this long-awaited chapter.
Disclaimer: Not mine and never will be.
He was young for a Reaper, barely into his first century, just starting to collect souls on his own; and he really didn't think he deserved to be put in this position.
"W-what d-d-do you w-want?" He asked, in return the Demon that held him pressed his Scythe- HIS VERY OWN SCYTHE! THE RETCH!- closer to his throat.
"I just need you to pass along a little note for me." A thick envelope was slid into his jacket pocket with a low- and frankly terrifying - chuckle.
"Be sure that Mr. William T. Spears is the only one to know of our... encounter, or else I may just have to come looking for you." A warm breath brushed his cheek as the Demon leaned in closer to him.
"After all, I have your scent now." He slipped to the ground as he was suddenly released.
Grabbing his Scythe he took off as fast as he could for the Dispatch Office, a dark chuckle haunting him the whole way.
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As Sherlock made his way up to 221b he knew someone was already occupying the flat and so prepared himself, he just didn't prepare for how odd an encounter this would be.
"OooooOooo! Just look at you! I could just eat you right up!" All Sherlock saw was a flash of red before everything went dark.
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Two figures met in a place of eternal night, and though they couldn't be said to be friends a casual onlooker could at least say that they weren't enemies.
"I didn't think you enjoyed the English Isle anymore. Something about the tastes going bland, if I recall properly."
"True, but there are always exceptions to be had as you well know."
The two... 'men' shared a knowing smile before the first speaker frowned and cut to the heart of the conversation.
"Tell me: Just why did you seek me out? I sincerely doubt it was to reminisce about old times."
"True. I am here about a problem that will soon make itself known in the mortal sphere, and I thought you might wish to lend a... helping hand?"
A small smile curved the first speakers lips as he listened to the second speaker explain what was happening.
"So. Will you join the cause?"
The first speaker thought for a moment before nodding.
"Why not? Who knows? It might just be fun."
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It wasn't much of a fight really, Sherlock thought. The intruder seemed to have a great deal of strength and stamina, but he was sorely lacking in skill.
It took less than five minutes to subdue the... man? Yes, the man, but maybe something else as well? And a minute after subduing 'him' Sherlock had several knots in place on the rope John had given him for holding super-strengthed beings and started to make a list of experiments he could run bow that he had full access to a nonhuman that wasn't his friend.
John had been adamant on this: friends don't experiment on other friends, no matter how fascinating the results might be.
So he picked up a pair of shears and headed over to the bound form.
"Stay away from me! I'm warning you! Not the hair! NOT THE HAIR!" Hair sample in hand Sherlock settled down at his microscope and ignored the raving fit his prisoner was putting up at having lost a lock of hair.
"I'm going to get you for this! And that damn William too! No-one treats a Lady like this and gets away with it!" Watching in fascination as the hair sample dissolved without any trace residue in the acid bath he had set up, Sherlock began to wonder if it was only hair that would do so.
Grabbing a syringe and an alcohol pad- John, though a Demon, had hammered into him the need for sterility when drawing blood from a living being- he made his way back into the sitting room and his 'guest' laying bound on the floor.
"What? What are you doing?! Get away from me!"
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He ducked the attack on his left, and just barely missed running into the one on his right; if he didn't manage to calm things down soon his opponents might just decide to start using their swords instead of the whips; and that would just make things more difficult for him as he would need to kill these two and go looking for others to try and reason with.
As if there was ever any reasoning with Angels.
Slipping between the two at the last moment he waited for them to get tangled up in each others' whips before coming to a rest himself.
Not giving them a chance to sort themselves out he stepped forward and stated his piece.
"You should keep closer eyes on the fallen of your kind, there is one that is becoming a real nuisance and will soon cause a great deal of havoc."
"And why should that concern filth like you?!"
"And why should we take the word of a Demon anyway?!" He smirked at the two Holy beings tied together in front of him as he stepped closer to them, causing them to struggle in confines of their unbreakable light whips.
"He goes by the name Jim now, and I suggest you take my message up to a higher authority than yourselves." He reached out and ripped the ensnaring whips apart and thrust a thick envelope into the shocked Angels' hands.
He was gone before they could even think of regrouping.
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John walked into the flat and then turned into the kitchen.
He made three cups of tea.
Setting one down by the engrossed genius looking at blood and fingernail samples under a microscope he took the other two into the sitting room.
"And just how did you get down there?" He asked in a polite voice of the ruffled Reaper laying bound on the floor. A fierce glare was his only answer.
Leaving the third cup on the table next to the Reaper John went to stand in the kitchen doorway, and, like John knew he would, Sherlock began to immediately speak.
"It's fascinating, John! He's obviously not human, but his cell structure is almost identical to a humans'!"
"Hey! Who you calling a 'him'?! I'll have you know I'm a sweet and dainty young Lady!" John suppressed a laugh even as Sherlock moved to the sitting room to argue the differences between a 'dainty young Lady' and what was currently tied up on the floor.
"You're obviously male, anyone can see that. And even with your poorly done makeup and your over the top gauche attire you could never pass for either 'dainty' or 'young'."
"Who you calling 'gauche'?!"
"You, obviously."
As much as John wanted to hear the fight rage on and on- if William had thought sending Grell along to be the go-between between him and the Reaper Dispatch would be an annoyance then the Manager had another thing coming, watching Grell and Sherlock snipe at each other was just too much fun- there was just too much to do.
Leaning down John untied the Red Reaper, hoisted him to his feet, shoved the cooling tea into his hands and then turned toward his curious flatmate to begin introductions.
"Sherlock, I'd like to introduce you to Grell Sutcliff, the most expendable Reaper the Dispatch has to offer."
"Expendable!" The screech was accompanied by a spray of lukewarm tea.
"Grell, let me introduce you to Sherlock Holmes, the man you will be protecting with your very life or else."
"Or else what?" The Reaper asked as he began fiddling with his attire, trying to straighten it up.
"Or else I'll keep you alive, for a very. Very. Long. Time." Grell stared a moment before turning to Sherlock and holding out a hand, palm downwards as befitted his station as a gentlewoman.
"A pleasure, Sir." Sherlock just stared at him.
"You were Jack the Ripper, well, half he Ripper." John nearly burst out laughing- How he loved the way Sherlock's mind worked!- but didn't as something pulled for his attention.
"You can't prove that! Besides, I've already served my suspension; even if William was a little harsh on me. It's not like I did anything wrong, really!" Turning his head away from the beginning argument he felt for what had disturbed him so.
"Mycroft!" He was gone even as the two others in the room turned to look at him.
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Jim took one last look in the mirror and then headed out the door and to his waiting car.
"Diogenes Club, on the double. I mustn't be late for my appointment with Mr. Holmes."
"Right away, Ms. Adler."
There were many things Jim hated- getting his hands dirty, loose ends, the color white- and his female form was one of them, but he would admit that it had its uses.
Like gaining appointments with powerful men who didn't suspect a thing and would lower their guard because he was just a woman.
Crossing his ankles Jim let himself relax back into the leather seat and become fully Irene with a smile on his/her face.
If he couldn't gain John's support because of a silly little tie to a stupid little mortal then the mortal would simply have to go, and then John would come begging to be by his side.
It had been quite a long time since Jim/Irene had purified a soul, but he wasn't worried. It would soon come back to him.
And then poor little Mycroft Holmes would die screaming.
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Sherlock was on the street hailing a cab even before Grell knew he was moving, but the Reaper caught up fast.
"Where did he go?" The Red Reaper asked the agitated Detective who couldn't seem to catch a cab for the first time in his life.
"My brother will be at the Diogenes Club at this time of day, so John should be heading there as well." Scooping the lanky brunette up bridal style Grell leapt for the nearest roof and landed with grace.
"Which direction?" Sherlock pointed and then held on for dear life.
He would need to ask John to try this with him sometime- once whatever was wrong with Mycroft was taken care of- maybe then he would be able to see more of the city and less of a wall of red hair.
In what seemed no time at all they landed on the roof of the Club, and then the screams started.