Title: On the Historical Influence of the "Gloria Scott"

Rating: high PG-13/low R

Warnings: deaths, torture, prejudice, bad jokes

Summary: Sherlock Holmes finds himself at odds with his beliefs when he befriends a young man named Victor Trevor at a university.

It was a boon that he'd taken refuge in the college, sitting and frowning upon seeing the various others that were now walking all over one of the more prestigious universities of the Human race. They honestly had no idea the amount of damage they were doing, just by walking about on something that should rightfully belong to Earth and it's beings, not these extraterrestrial slime.

The young man was tall, his hair made darker by his pale complexion and gray eyes that took in everything and seemed to remain on something for a bit too long, or simply focus on something and pushed his distaste forward enough to be almost felt. His suit was simple but elegant enough to fit in with everyone else, at least with every other Human in the area, though he also frowned when he saw a plain-clothed man carrying a book or two. The lower classes was…well, to put it frankly, he only dealt with a few people like that when he was in the lower areas of London, trying to fit in and use some of the techniques that he'd learn from an actor who helped them.

He slowly stood up, taking out a cigarette before he heard a sudden chattered from behind him. His senses and fear of being caught still on high, the tall man turned quickly, looking behind him to see a grouping of people scattering and a harried looking young man racing towards him, yelling "Cerebus, get back here!"

It took all of a few seconds to make the deduction: a young man running to him, a yell of a name that normally wasn't given to any Human, and everyone scattering.

Sherlock Holmes jumped up on one of the higher areas with a lamp, intent on climbing up if needed, and nearly did when he saw the large alien dog that came up, barking at him and snapping at his ankles, nearly getting him right before the other young man came up, grabbing the leash and pulling back on it. "Cerebus! Bad boy! Don't you dare attack anyone! I'm so sorry, sir, he's just being horrid today."

"If you can't control the beast," Holmes muttered, slowly climbing down, "then don't have one."

The minute his foot touched a brick, it tilted, broke, and Holmes crashed down onto the ground, cutting short a shout of pain as the beast started barking again, though from the new angle it appeared to not be alien but rather a mixed mutt of a beast and large, lunging to Holmes as he rose his arms, the young man attempting to stop the beast when…

A large, wet tongue went up along Holmes' face and cheek, leaving saliva along his face.

"Cerebus! Really!" the young man said, then laughed.

The man had the gall to laugh, loudly and in such a way that it seemed that the whole of the day was simply one full joke after another.

"But you're hurt!" he chuckled, though he looked a little serious about things. "You're a student here, aren't you? Come on, the doctor is the best." With no more talk, Holmes found himself lifted up and away from the large dog. The young man was nearly as tall as he was, but his hair was a natural perm and white-blond, his eyes a dark blue color and his face slightly tanned, showing off his athletic nature, and his muscles were built well enough that he not only supported Holmes completely but also attempted to hold onto Cerebus at the same time.

"No, really, I'm quite-."

"Nonsense, your ankle is probably sprained or something. Come on, it's not far, and now that he's met you, Cerebus will love you forever, won't you Cerebus?" The dog panted happily in reply. "Now then, I'm Victor Trevor. Who are you?"

One bandaged ankle and a rest in a room later, Holmes was suddenly very aware of the danger that might come from remaining and not sneaking away. He'd come to the university to hide and to speak with one academic who was sympathetic to the Cause, allowing him to get more of an education, his own being woefully limited to what his mind demanded of him. His father had been grateful for the two boys who were at par with the great Moriarty, but then one turned traitor, and that left Sherlock to live up to his potential.

Of course, if the academic found out about him in the hospital, perhaps he'd be able to stay a little while…

There was a light knock on the door before it opened, Trevor looking in and holding up a large basket of Terran and other fruit. "The doctor said it was alright to visit."

"I didn't."

"Yes, well, that's different," Trevor pointed out, putting the basket nearby and pulling out a bright red apple. "I'm terribly sorry for being very rude, but I found it simply so funny that he…that is, my dog…would lick you. He must find something in you nice, for he never licks anyone."

"Hence the scattering of all kinds at his release?"

Trevor sighed and nodded, taking a seat. "I really do love that dog, too. I found him as a mutt, and so far he's failed to stop growing. I'm pretty sure one day he'll be large enough to carry me on his back, as it is he carries my books with enough ease it's a wonder he wasn't born for it. Unluckily he also tends to bite everyone, which was why I was so worried."

Holmes snorted, sitting up a little to take another apple from the bunch of fruit. "I and dogs do not get along, save for one, and he was a tracking dog. He had a job to do."

Trevor chuckled at that. "Well, don't tell Cerebus, he might get jealous."

"I don't intend on seeing that monster of yours again. Normal dogs don't keep growing."

"He's quite young still, and he might stop. I believe he's simply from a large stock," Trevor said defensively, biting into his apple, "I suppose by 'normal' you mean 'from Earth'."

Holmes glared at him. "Of course I do. Why would I mean from anywhere else?"

Trevor shrugged. "You just sound like Professor Armitage, is all. Speaking about how things were before the Denebolans came. I do grant that it's a great class he has, but rather dull. I don't see the point of complaining about the old days. After all, if nothing changed, where would we be now? I like the ability to travel quickly to home on the rail, or be able to send my father a note on the computers at the library. To go back to a way of life that is now obsolete with the inventions that both humans and Denebolans have given us would be rather backwards, wouldn't it?"

"It would at least make humanity proud of their achievements," Holmes countered.

"I doubt that," Trevor said thoughtfully, "we lose knowledge and find it again, then treat it as some grand discovery no one ever had. I mean, take that Rosetta Stone that was just translated, finding a 'lost' language. How can one lose something so tangible as a whole writing system? It's beyond me at times."

Holmes looked him over carefully, slowly eating the apple he'd taken and thinking of what he'd said before starting again. "You don't mind that they are-."

"You are one of Armitage's pupils, aren't you? Honestly, I don't know of anyone who would continue that line of inquiry."

"Perhaps one that is curious as to the reason for thinking it? I am somewhat good at making deductions, and know that at least you are a student of Philosophy, but I don't see how that enters into dealing with the Denebolans." Holmes was quite happy he was able to call them that, rather then what some others did. That would give him away as a Resistance fighter quicker than if he'd mentioned where he was from.

"Curiosity and deductions have nothing to do with it," Trevor argued back, "you took one look at the fruit and didn't even ask what some of them were. So either you're not about to eat them, or you already know. Either way, Philosophy was something I was interested in. Father wouldn't send me to a trade school."

Holmes frowned at that. "So what I choose to eat tells you…what about me?" Having had no one else to use deduction on who didn't think it amazing, or who called him childish for it, Holmes found himself enjoying this odd argument with the other young man.

"It tells me you're someone like Armitage, who seems to enjoy living in the past, or at least glorifying it, instead of attempting to figure out what it is we can do to improve our standing. There are more than a few Humans who have gained the respect of Denebolans, and despite having less technology, that doesn't stop us from enjoying the benefits. Yes, Africa is a bloody mess but it might have been worse had it not been for the ambassadors who helped bring peace and restrict not only who got what as far as colonies, but also the rights of the tribes there. We're learning more and more about our world from them and doing it in such a way that might result in not having to worry about not having the resources in the future. Yes, there still is poverty and crime, but considering that even those from other worlds have such problems makes it all the more connective of us being a united galaxy, facing the same sins and attempts to make ourselves better."

"So you're weighing the fact that we were not allowed to make mistakes in our favor?"

"You'd rather have a good amount of human blood be spilled in the name of…what? To state you'd enjoy the thought of having countless wars in order to prove superiority, instead of simply living in a joined world where peace is more important, then I wonder at your argument."

Holmes did as well. "It is not just the mistakes but the advances as well. We're not allowed the freedom to make either."

"We are, but we have a better understanding of how they affect others now."

"So instead of freedom you take the possibility of consequences and don't try something at all?"

"Having something blow off my hand is my own mistake. Having something that would destroy a whole city is a mistake of humanity's need for fighting. Why be angry that some outside influence stopped you from killing your neighbor? We've been imposing ourselves in such a matter and it's gotten us only wars and grief."

Holmes sighed, having to agree that he was beaten, though in truth such a line of logic was normal for him lately and he'd gotten to the point that he wasn't quite sure why he hadn't brought it up before. Of course, Moriarty might have a way to counter these, but Holmes couldn't think of it. He knew his father's anger was due to a family loss, but he'd not quite understood the whole thing either, and even as a member who was advancing faster than any other, Holmes was getting more and more questions about their reasons to continue the fight against the Denebolans and a society that was more and more rejecting their ideas as backwards, prejudiced, and even dangerous with some of the attacks that Moran and others planned.

"You're not convinced?" Trevor asked as he finished his apple and tossed it away, taking out a star-shaped fruit to start on that.

"I'm not in disagreement with you," Holmes said slowly, "but…I've never had anyone to argue this with. As it is, I am still uncertain if this change was the best for the world in general, but I will admit that the small pockets of enlightenment that have been witnessed is at least a relief."

Trevor smiled happily. "Good! Then you won't object to coming to stay the summer vacation with me at my father's estate?"

"…what?"

"You may have no other choice," Armitage said when he visited Holmes, having convinced the doctor and others that Holmes was the son of a friend and therefore could remain in the university, "Moriarty has yet to find a way to direct suspicion away from the school, and summer vacation will give you the best cover for sneaking away. As well, Trevor Sr. is a prominent judge in one of the more secluded areas of the country. I know it will be terribly rude, but the first minute you can, you must leave the house and head to the nearest safe point."

"That was his only instruction?" Holmes asked, testing weight on his foot and happily noting it was much better now.

"So far. As far as the Trevors are concerned, there's nothing that can be done…you've spoken to the boy. The group is far too enchanted with the idea of world unity under the-."

"I have argued the point with him," Holmes interrupted, wishing the older man was a little more careful with what he said in such an unsecure location. "He's unflinching in the idea that our destinies as humans were moved forward a few hundred years, and no harm has come to us. I cannot argue what I would because it would expose me, and while he has claimed me as a friend, I don't take words at their value, but rather actions."

Holmes didn't want to mention that Trevor's actions had proven him a friend as well, and one who might actually take this secret in stride, or as a challenge. What he'd learned of Trevor wrote him as argumentative anyway, but knowing what he was speaking about, and that his major in Philosophy was more so he could prove to his father he could think before going to a trade school, or at least jump a ship and learn how to run one.

"A good philosophy," Armitage said, nodding, "as well, some of their servants are…well, they aren't natural, like that dog he has. It was right he called it after a hell hound."

Holmes nodded, tuning out more of Armitage's ramblings as he got his things together. He would leave the hospital soon and room with Armitage, but between that, Trevor had shown he enjoyed sports, and that instead of rugby, the man not only boxed but also fenced and did singlestick. Holmes had agreed that, upon being fully healed, he'd take his revenge by one of those three, if not all three, and Trevor had burst out laughing and agreed to all three, stating he wanted to meet someone who could fight all over the gym. Holmes found his attitude annoying, but was more amazed by the fact that, afterwards, he wondered briefly if he couldn't heal himself faster.

The summer, it appeared, might be a trial of faith.

Trevor smiled as Holmes looked out the window, watching the scenery go by at high-speed. The new rail, one of three in the country, connected the university to the further areas of the kingdom, with the older models helping to serve the more populated areas that often could have dangers in the tracks and require slower-moving trains.

Still, Trevor had to admit that he enjoyed watching the childlike way in which Holmes looked out and around the area, though it did call a few things into question. While Trevor had grown up in a relatively secluded area of England, he did understand that some would view anyone who had a connection to Armitage as a danger, and possibly as someone who was connected to the Resistance, or Fawkes as some people jokingly called them for the many failed attempts they had at blowing up important buildings. The few other attempts had left a good population of homeless children, and one had apparently caused Cerebus to be orphaned as well, leaving his pedigree up in the air.

It seemed odd to him, though, that Holmes was still attempting to argue against the Denebolans. When he mentioned this over a motion-live conference with his father, the elder Trevor had stated that prejudices were hard to fight against, and that he'd asked a few of the Denebolan servants to remain slightly more out of sight because he didn't want to make the young man uncomfortable.

"After all," he'd told Victor with a smile, "You never bring friends."

That was too true. Despite his happy nature, the eccentric way in which he acted and his too-often attempts at arguments just for arguments sakes had left him friendless for most of his childhood, which made the appearance of Holmes and his arguments, as well as his attempts to argue other points, such a boon. He was also so very sure of himself that he set most others away, and Trevor enjoyed the fact that the two got along so well. It helped immensely that Cerebus loved him with all his heart and was very fond of him.

Trevor shifted as much as he could, as Cerebus was resting fully on the seat next to him and had his head on Trevor's lap, stopping him from really moving anywhere unless he had to, and pointed to some of the country that they were passing by, "Have you heard of that area over there?"

Holmes checked it as they passed, pausing then nodding. "Yes, I have. Where the first major fight was against the Resistance and the Denebolans, right before Queen Victoria signed a treaty with them. A good deal of people were killed, weren't they?"

"Yes," Trevor said in agreement, "Father said there's a move to make a memorial there for both sides."

Holmes blinked at that, but remained silent, looking out the window and not speaking about anything until the train stopped a few minutes later.

Cerebus allowed them to quickly make their way through the crowd and to the waiting cart, Trevor's father moving down to embrace his son. "Victor! It's so good to see you again. I see Cerebus is still growing…is this your friend?" Trevor Sr. reached over to shake Holmes hand fondly. "Victor told me a little about you, but I look forward to having you here for the summer. Come now, we should head home so we can get dinner. I'm sure the journey has made you both hungry."

Victor smiled at that, Cerebus panting happily as they got in, his father driving them away from the station and back home.

Holmes stretched out, looking around sleepily and slowly sitting up as the last bit of sleep slowly wore off. The dinner had been excellent, and the past two days had been wonderful as well, causing Holmes to feel a calm that he'd never quite had before, causing him to wonder if he'd ever be able to feel it again.

He'd been able to send one letter to tell his Father he was alright and what he had found with Armitage, as well as what he'd learned from Trevor in the days since. The fact that Armitage was known for his near-Resistance views made Holmes himself skeptical of the man's use for their cause, as few if any of the college pupils took him seriously, and he had only a small gathering who seemed too far in the Peerage to do much help besides suggest laws without finding themselves at the same loss at Holmes and his family did. Of course, Holmes had been able to set up a small account for himself, hidden away in case the others were caught or he needed to be away from the others for a while, and it was growing rapidly due to a few good investments and savings.

There was a quick knock before Trevor's voice came through the door. "Holmes? Father was wondering if you'd care to go fishing with him today…I'm taking care of Cerebus and the rabbits."

Holmes blinked rapidly at that. "Rabbits?"

"Yes, a small family of rabbits. We found them attempting to eat the vegetables and I said I'd keep them and raise them. The father tasted far too good to let them go."

Holmes decided not to comment on that as he got dressed, "Tell your father I'll be down in a minute."

"Alright. Are you sure? I could also show you Erebus."

"Who?"

"My horse! He's a beautiful black stallion who tends to throw anyone else."

Holmes had a guess at why Trevor wanted him to meet Erebus. "I don't feel like being thrown."

"But he and Cerebus are nearly brothers, and if Cerebus loves you, I'm sure-."

"Trevor, NO."

There was a long pause, allowing Holmes to get his toilet and up to his shirtsleeves before he said, "Well, what about Elysium?"
"You've read far too many Greek myths when you named these animals…"

"But Elysium is wonderful! She's the mare I picked out for Erebus, a beautiful white one, she runs like the wind I tell you, and if they do get a foal you can have it."

Holmes sighed, looking at his writing desk as he finished dressing. They didn't have room for a horse…or if they did, there was a bad possibility for what it would be used for in the end. Father's prized horse had been used to plow at one point, and when it'd no longer been of use, they had shot it and turned it into a horrible stew that Holmes remembered made him sick. He knew how to ride, and drive a cart or carriage, and the animals enjoyed him, but he'd never been able to get close to them.

"We don't have a place for horses," Holmes told Trevor before he opened the door, seeing Trevor standing outside and frowning at him, "I'm sorry."

"Oh…well, we could keep it here for you, and you could at least name it. Then it would be yours."

Yes, Holmes thought as he smiled at that, following Trevor down for a quick breakfast before going out with his father to fish, this was going to be a large test of faith.

Holmes chuckled slightly at Trevor's joke, petting Cerebus behind the ear as the large dog lay down between the two, huffing lightly but otherwise happy. If Holmes considered everything in his month at the Trevor's estate, it was easy to see why Father had been so upset over the loss of the ancestral Holmes mansion and his title, though Trevor Sr. only held the rank of judge where the Holmes' had been in charge of the area for centuries.

Trevor frowned as he saw the maid, a young Human who seemed skittish but was at least a good person, as far as the lower class was concerned. She spoke briefly with Trevor Sr. before heading back towards the house.

"Well?" Trevor muttered as Cerebus raised his head, causing both to grab hold of the collar so the dog wouldn't go to attack whoever else came out, "What do you deduce from that?"

Holmes rolled his eyes at that, wondering briefly why Trevor hadn't spoken to his father about the 'great powers' that Holmes had found commonplace for himself. He suspected it had something to do with not wanting to upset the man, as Holmes had asked Trevor about a tattoo he'd seen on Trevor Senior and only learned that it shouldn't be talked about, as it had caused some trouble when Trevor brought it up himself.

Despite that, Holmes did enjoy showing off and watched from their area as the maid brought out a man who was dressed in enough of a mish-mash of clothing that Holmes whispered quickly, "A sailor, but down on his luck, perhaps not up for the work that comes to him, and has been at sea for quite a while." He frowned upon seeing Trevor Senior's reaction to the man. "Trevor…I don't like this. Whoever that man is, he's scared your father."

Cerebus apparently agreed to this, for he growled loud enough to get the attention of the other two men. Trevor and Holmes quickly stood, Cerebus barring his teeth at the sailor came closer.

"Victor, Mr. Holmes, this is my good friend, Mr. Hudson. We met some years ago, when I was working through my passage to Australia," Trevor stated, smiling at the two, "Hudson, this is my boy, Victor, and his friend, Mr. Holmes."

"Holmes is it?" the sailor state, grinning a little, "And Victor…fine lads, the both of you. Indeed, they are quite fine lads. You've done well for yourself here. Perhaps I'll stay and visit a while."

Holmes frowned at Hudson's tone when it came to his name, shifting a little as Cerebus continued to growl, his whole body antagonistic towards the man. Victor glanced between the three as his father quickly ordered the maid to get Hudson some food and that he'd get him a job somewhere. Victor glanced quickly at his father before Hudson left, then after he was gone asked, "Father…have you been drinking?"

Holmes disliked this implication, though Trevor Senior denied it while his breath spoke otherwise. Trevor finally took Cerebus fully, saying he'd put him in the stables with Erebus in order to ensure murder was not done in the house. Holmes headed inside to get something to drink, pausing and looking to see that the maid and few butlers weren't around before heading into where Hudson was sitting, eating some potatoes and a large steak. He smirked at Holmes upon seeing him enter, taking a large bite out of the meat. "I'm amazed your friend's da hasn't mentioned your last name. Your own da was loud enough to be heard even when I first met that man outside."

"I guessed as much," Holmes answered quietly, stalking forward towards the man, "I take it you have your own reasons for being here?"

The man chuckled again as he ate. "For my own reason, boy, my own reason is all, though I think you should leave. After all, don't want your friend to know what you are, do you?"

Holmes glared at him, though the man's smile said that he was not above telling Trevor that. He shifted and finally headed back out, finding Trevor waiting just outside.

"Are you alright?" Trevor asked, frowning at him.

"Perfectly fine. Just…I realize I should head home. My father will be worried that I've been away for so long…he's…very protective, much like yours."

Trevor slowly nodded, looking over at the door leading to the servant's dinning room. "What did Mr. Hudson say to you?"

"He mentioned having heard of another branch of my family. I'm not sure what he's talking about, and I was hoping to ask my father. Unluckily, Father doesn't believe in modern communications."

Trevor sighed, nodding at that. "I'll help you pack, then. When do you want to leave?"

"Forgive me, but I must leave as early as possible." He paused as they headed up to his room, "Trevor…if anything happens, with Hudson and you father…no matter what your father says, you must stand up to the man."

"What? Why?"

"Your father's attitude suggests this man is dangerous, or knows something about his life before he came here. It frightens him to no end…therefore, no matter what the secret, no matter what, you must confront him if he does something to harm your father or the household."

Trevor took in a breath, then nodded. "I will. But you will try to return, won't you?"

"I'll try."

The safe house was quite a few miles away, and he slowly walked in, frowning at the décor that was obviously picked by various people over the course of the time it was used. He followed the servant to his room, able to put his stuff on the bed before there was a knock and his father came in.

Sherrinford Holmes was about as tall as his eldest son, his bulk gaining but his muscles causing him to appear to be a much older Holmes brother, had the three ever gotten a picture before Mycroft had left.

"Sherlock," Father said, looking him over, "you appear to be well."

"Thank you," Holmes said, nodding slightly at his father and standing straight before him, "Has the Professor gotten my assignment?"

"He has. He was curious as to your assessment of Professor Armitage as far as his use within the Resistance." His father frowned at him as Holmes shifted under his gaze, uncertain where this was leading. "Moran has come along with some questions."

Holmes frowned at that, turning to look at his father in surprise. "Do you know what type?"

"Simply about your assessment of Armitage, as well as about the family you stayed with recently…the Trevors was it?"

Holmes nodded. "The son, Victor, befriended me and somewhat asked me to visit for the summer."

"Somewhat?"

"He's very…pushy. He also doesn't quite understand the meaning of 'no' at times," Holmes shifted and, at his father's nod, he started to take out his clothing and items, "a sailor came there shortly before I left. He knew the implications of my name, and seemed to have some hold over the older Trevor."

His father frowned. "Did you find out what it was?"

"No, though I have a theory," Holmes continued, looking up, then away at his father's look. "Trevor was worried about it, so I gave him at least some instructions to deal with him. Milverton might know what the man knows, but it seems a very obscure thing."

"Does it?"

"There was a mention of having served on the same ship, but no talk about the name. I left in order to not cause trouble."

His father shifted, walking over to stand near a wooden chair. "What was the house like?"

"Odd. They had a few Human servants, but I saw signs they had equal number of Human and Scrugs in their service. I never ran into one, however, which I suppose is better than nothing."

His father frowned. "They hired them?"

"Yes. A small group had settled in the nearby village, and most of the area had at least one in their service, or had a business owned by one. We only went past it, so I couldn't quite check on how things were."

Father continued to frown, considering the information. "You aren't planning to return, are you?"

"Not unless he contacts me. He can't find out where I am, so I doubt that will happen."

Father nodded. "Good." He paused to pull out his watch, checking the time. "Moran will see you in an hour. Is that enough time to get ready?"

It wasn't, but Holmes nodded all the same, his father leaving the room to allow him enough time to get slightly cleaned up and into better clothing before he walked back out, getting a quick glass of water then going to see Moran.

Colonel Sebastian Moran was a well-built man with a military-issue mustache and skin tanned from his long years as a shikari in India. He wore a dark suit and was standing next to a second-rate desk, which sadly Holmes had come to expect from this particular safe house. He had always reminded Holmes of a tiger, his eyes a strange yellow color that made him all the more unnerving as Moriarty's second in command.

"Report," he said curtly in his military voice.

Holmes, standing straight, seemed to straighten further at the voice and command, "I have made contact with Professor Armitage, however a circumstance resulted in my having to remain hidden within the college. A young student named Victor Trevor invited me to his home for the summer, and I accepted in order to evade capture, in case there was anyone still following me. The introduction of a sailor called Hudson, as well as the possibility he is blackmailing the elder Trevor with knowledge of a past deed, caused me to leave."

Moran nodded at the quick part. "You said that you were uncertain about allowing Armitage to join us. Why?"

"He would not add anything to our cause, and the few students he does have who listen to him are either not of a family with enough influence in any area, or who wouldn't have the influence later on anyway. He is also considered as close to being part of us without being arrested, and no one would find it a surprise that he was part of our cause. He's a danger to us and our work."

Moran was silent for a moment. "You stated all this in your report. You said that the one student you could talk to outside of Professor Armitage's circle instantly thought you were one of his students and told you many disliked his talk beyond history. Were you able to confirm his ideas?"

Holmes nodded. "His fellow roommates, as well as those in the gym, all had similar views about Armitage. They said they would not be surprised if the man was part of the Resistance, save that he enjoyed his job too much. It was believed he might have been approached before but rejected the call to action in order to keep up his style of living." He kept himself serious and uncaring as Moran's eyes fell upon him, as if glaring through him. "He is not someone we want within our organization, or at least that I see no reason to have in our organization."

Moran stepped forward quickly, stopping close enough to only look silly as he glared up at Holmes. His height made it hard to intimidate him, and his strength was well-known among the group. He was, therefore, not the type of person who was easily picked on or intimidated by anyone save Moriarty, and that was through intellectual only and slowly waning as Holmes questioned more and more of his decisions and with less and less of them being answered in a way he could justify, or indeed anyone could.

"The Professor is quite displeased with you, and with your report. Professor Armitage brings more to the organization then you do, and after that month with people who openly admire and hire Scrugs? Or someone who was possibly a criminal before they came down and decided to rearrange our way of life? You are the liability, Holmes, just as your brother was."

Holmes' own glare at least sent Moran back a step. "Never compare me to him again, and if you want to drag that man in, then be my guest. I did warn you."

Holmes winced as he lightly touched the bruise forming on his cheek from where his father had hit him after the report, signaling that his thoughts on the matter were not appreciated. He disliked this fact, as well as the fact that the opinions of those who went out to do the dangerous jobs were never considered. At times like this, he wondered if perhaps Mycroft wasn't right in his leaving…

He shook his head lightly, taking a seat on his bed and getting the small pack of ice that one of the servants had left for him on the side table. He considered if he shouldn't go back to check on Trevor, but he scrapped the idea. He was in enough trouble without adding to it, and he just didn't want to add that extra black mark to his record. That he was already being compared to Myrcoft was making him worried.

When Holmes had been ten, his brother had come to him and said he was leaving the group, all but begging him to go with him. Holmes had refused, called his brother all sort of a traitor, and attempted to tell on him but been unable to, as the larger and older man had been able to keep him quiet until well after breakfast, when he'd been found tied up and gagged by a servant. Their father had not been happy with him, and neither had Moriarty. The 'test' that his brother had gone on had been a failure, and now that he considered things, perhaps he should have joined his brother—

Holmes grimaced and shifted. No, to leave would mean certain death and having to live with those Scrugs, or even deal with simply living in the dark area that the orphans he'd seen before live in, those he'd met with at one point, a small group called the Irregulars, but they had to live with Scrugs and face the new life that this world was giving. What choice was that? At least here, he had a chance to make a difference, to change the world back to the good it had once been.

Of course, life outside seemed no different than being part of the resistance, save that he was at least able to pursue his career choice without the danger of being arrested. As well, if he was truthful, he would even be able to remain friends with Trevor, instead of being ordered to avoid him. He could at least have a life, a normal, proper life with females asking for favors, or boxing and fencing against others, riding horses, and all the things that he'd done with Trevor, the balls and the dances, the everything that he'd seen…perhaps he'd even get along with the Denebolans. After all, the few he'd met had been kind and not the same type that he'd normally had described to him. The servants, both Human and not, had been as they should have been, though Trevor was a little more friendly to his and that made them act differently as well.

The ice was crushed under his hand before he put it back on the side table. It was useless to think of those things, not until…

Holmes sighed. His first test has been to find and speak to Armitage, and he had. The man was a fool, and to bring him in for anything was a foolish sport. So why were they going to?

Brother, these men do not think! They live in the past, and I cannot think of leaving you here to stagnate with the rest of them.

He should have gone with Mycroft, his fate be damned.

Some five weeks later there was a succession of taps on his window, almost too quiet for anyone but Holmes to notice before he reached over and opened it, looking out to the grounds.

A large, wet tongue met him suddenly, and he grimaced at it. "Cerebus…"

The dog looked at him as Trevor, standing next to him, smiled. "Holmes, I need to talk to you…what happened to your eye?"

"I walked into a door."

"Now's not the time for jokes," Trevor said seriously, "Hudson left, and my father had a heart attack. I need you to come with me to figure this out."

"I-."

"Holmes, shut up and get over here before someone notices us."

Holmes sighed, grabbing his shoes and a coat before heading out the window, closing it after him and looking around. Oddly enough, the two hadn't alerted anyone or anything so far and Holmes hoped to keep it that way.

"Explain."

"On the way. We don't have much time…Holmes, it's bad." Cerebus gave a small whimper and Holmes finally nodded, hopping briefly to put his shoes on before following the other young man and large dog into the night.

Holmes slowly picked up the note as Trevor raced upstairs, the news upon their return grim enough to cause Trevor to race up, to be there at least at the end of his father's life.

One of the lesser-seen Scrugs walked up, putting down a small glass of brandy for him as he frowned at it, before finally asking, "Sir? Do you know what it means?"

Holmes glanced at him, then finally nodded. "Who sent it?"

"It had a Fordingbridge post-mark…but as to who, I'm not quite sure or not. Judge Trevor never mentioned knowing anyone in that area."

Holmes frowned and nodded. "Trevor mentioned a Mr. Beddoes living in that area. Hudson suggested, I think?" At the Denebolan's nod, he continued, "Hudson must have found gone there. Did the Trevors know them?"

The Denebolan nodded again, Holmes putting the pieces together. "I need to talk to Victor then…right away."

Trevor was sitting at the desk in his father's room, looking over a few papers, looking up quickly when Holmes came in. "Holmes…I…there's just…"

"Trevor, I need you to tell me if you know where Mr. Beddoes lives."

He blinked at that, then nodded. "I…yes. Why?"

"If we're quick enough, we may just avenge your father."

The trip was not too long, but long enough that Holmes got the story of James Armitage, the son of Professor Armitage and a man who had accumulated enough debt to be sent to Australia for it. Holmes knew of the law, one whose sentence had been reduced shortly after the arrival of the Scrugs had appeared. That Victor had found out his grandfather had been teaching and not knowing about the continued existence of his son, or even that he had a grandson, and that he was teaching him.

Holmes considered Moriarty's attitude, and the one taught to him. A family that has one bad apple is made of a group of them, and none should be trusted.

Yet he knew better. He knew Trevor, and he knew Trevor's father enough to realize the mistake was, as he said, a simple one, and no reason for being sent to Australia at all. Armitage had enough to pay for his son's debt, and he'd instead had claimed the son had died of some sort of disease.

That, at least, would be a good reason for him to have gone on this mission…Milverton would like to know about such things.

But he didn't come here for that, Holmes thought as he stayed near the police station, uncertain if they had his description or if the area had a lot of Denebolan people in it, which often caused him to feel annoyed. He had to work on that.

He frowned as he waited, wondering what was taking Trevor so long. He'd put the funeral arrangements in the hands of the head butler, and now was trying to find out if anyone had seen Hudson in the area. That the man was a danger to Mr. Beddoes and, possibly, could end up dying if he pushed too far.

Holmes froze when he felt a hand come down upon his shoulder, a voice stating harshly in his ear, "You've lead me on a fine chase, Holmes, but you're not getting away this time."

"Mr. Trevor?" the man was of medium height and looked, to Trevor, somewhat like a ferret or something similar. Not handsome, but quite ordinary, and almost forgettable unless one felt that they should. He was a young Inspector, Trevor had to guess, and seemed quite worried about something.

"Yes?"

"My name's Inspector Giles Lestrade," he said, showing his badge, "I need to talk to you about that friend of yours…a Mr. Sigerson?"

Trevor nodded, recalling what Holmes had said about his odd fake name and his half-reason why. "What about him?"

"There was an attack in your room…the dog of your fought them off, but your friend is apparently gone. All of his items are gone as well."

Trevor blinked, suddenly worried. "What happened? Where did he go?"

Lestrade held up his hand. "Steady on. We're not sure, but…there's a high probability that he might be part of Moriarty's gang."

"Mor—who?"

"He's part of the Fawkes Resistance, the most dangerous and zealot of the group. The two men that your dog killed were known members of the group."

Trevor slowly sat in a nearby chair, looking over at Lestrade then the floor, blinking a little at that news. "No, I mean…but…." Too many things added up, and he didn't want to think that Holmes was that. Then that would mean perhaps that Professor Armitage…Grandda…it was so odd that he now could say such a thing, having never had one…"Sir, please, just tell me what you know, and I'll tell you what I know."

Lestrade sighed, taking off his hat and nodding, taking a seat near him, "Alright. I'll start with your Mr. Sigerson and what I know about the Moriarty gang…"

In a way, Lestrade could understand Mr. Trevor's worry and silence about his friend and the possibly that he was part of the Moriarty gang. That he spent a month at the house and was one of Trevor's only friends, as well as one of the few that the rather larger and possibly…no, actually quite dangerous…dog of Trevor's would be friendly with. That seemed a good enough excuse, in some ways, but the problem was all that came after the boy had disappeared. Trevor had explained what he knew, as well as his father's history, and Lestrade had sent word to find and put a guard on Professor Armitage. Sadly, the man was found in his room dead of a soft-nose revolver bullet when there was no area from which the bullet could come from. His work in the whole situation, however, had promoted him to being an Inspector in New Scotland Yard, and he was attempting to follow up on the whole situation.

Trevor's worry over his friend had caused him to file a missing person's report before he left, stating he'd keep in touch in case Holmes was ever found. The last he'd heard from the young man, Trevor had quit university and was going in to be a pilot on the trans-galactic ships, where a few humans were joining in the aliens and trading on other worlds. Lestrade had wished him the best, and now set about to doing his job, in the back of his mind the one thing that Trevor had hinted at.

If Lestrade ever did find Sigerson, or whatever his real name was, it would possibly either be as a corpse, or the day he defected from Moriarty's gang.