Madame Vastra found the Doctor there some minutes later, having fought down her repulsion on entering the building and following in his footsteps to the same room. She stepped inside to find the Doctor staring at the scrawlings of a madman daubed across the bare walls and scratched into the floor. Even the windows held faint traces of a small, looping hand and strange little drawings. Drawings that reminded Vastra of some of the eldritch signs of the Borlsover library.
"Madame Vastra," the Doctor said without turning around, "I rather thought you'd find your way here."
"You have settled matters at Scotland Yard?"
"Miss Flint will not be moved, I assure you."
"You are most kind, Doctor."
"Well, one does one's best. What do you make of all this?" he indicated the room with a sweeping hand.
Vastra considered the place more closely. The stench of defeat and defecation was appalling, almost as if the air was thick with the evil that had been created there. The words and symbols that covered so much of the available space were blessedly unthreatening - for the moment, at least - and there was no smoke or daemonic stirrings. Vastra considered both a great stroke of luck but declined to mention that to the Doctor.
Instead she said, "I have seen such things before, Doctor. They indicate a human mind turned to madness by," she paused, "an evil of some unutterable nature."
"Something Antediluvian and Non-Euclidean, no doubt."
Vastra stared at the man, unsure if he was making fun of her. The Doctor turned away again and considered the few areas of scrawlings that were a little more coherent, the symbols a little more clearly drawn.
"Your conclusions, Madame?" he said after a few moments.
"This artist sort powers that no human should have and it destroyed him utterly."
"Not powers. More a higher form of art, I suspect," the Doctor said.
"Are they not the same thing?"
He straightened and turned back to give Vastra a sad little nod, "Perhaps. Such a terrible legacy, to leave only death and horror when he sought nothing but artistic perfection."
"It is hubris, Doctor. The apes are sadly susceptible to it."
"In my experience, every race in the universe is susceptible to it. Now then, where to next?"
Vastra made for the door but stopped, her attention drawn to a particular part of the artist's mania-induced writings. She stepped toward the section carefully, afraid despite herself. The Doctor remained quiet but watched her movements with growing concern.
Vastra leaned down to study the row of small pictograms that sat at the centre of an otherwise unintelligible swathe of lines and curves. A figure kneeling, hand on chest; another standing, hand behind head; and a lion-headed creature, upstanding and proud. They were marked in the same pale ink as all the other markings but they were more clearly drawn that most and they were the only things in the room that meant anything to Vastra. Though what exactly they meant, she could not fathom.
"Madame?" the Doctor said gently.
Vastra straightened, her eyes remaining locked on the hieroglyphs. After a long moment, she turned to him and inclined her head in apology, "Forgive me, Doctor, a mere distraction."
"Really?" he said, his suspicion obvious but unspoken as they both moved on.
They left the room, glad to be out in the relatively clean air of the building and gladder still to reach the pavement and breath in the London smog. The Doctor attempted to hail a cab but failed miserably. Vastra gave nothing more than a flick of her hand and one halted before them. She hoped that her smile could not be seen through the heavy lace of her veil but feared that the Doctor was intuitive enough to sense her response. They settled into the seat and remained silent as the driver whipped up the horse, the movement jostling them in their places as they began the journey to Sutton Square.
"It's unlikely that this painting is still at the house, surely?" the Doctor said.
"It is, alas, but I should like to be certain."
"There's something else, Madame," the Doctor said but Vastra remained quiet. After a long pause he muttered, "Jenny Flint must have the patience of a saint," before settling into the silence.
Eventually, the Hansom turned off Urswick Street and on to Sutton Square. Vastra and the Doctor stepped down into the darkening light of evening. It seemed much darker than it should, Vastra thought and then chastised herself for such nonsense. She lead the Doctor up to the sole Police Officer left on duty outside the house. He was a middle aged man of flabby build and a pallid, doleful expression.
"London's finest, I see," the Doctor said to Vastra before they reached the man and he sweet talked the Constable into allowing them entrance.
"Nicely done, Doctor," Vastra said as they stepped into the familiar corridor. She pointed further along, "It is the Professor's office that we require."
The painting was indeed missing from the room, though there was no way to know if Inspector Brown or the mysterious civil servant had ordered it removed. The house showed the signs of many feet trampling through it but was entirely empty. Apparently the Inspector considered the investigation over. Though who's investigation and of what, Vastra was not sure. She lead the Doctor into the office-come-workroom and found it much less noisome than it had been yesterday; the pitiful remains of Jeremiah Hoogstraten having been dealt with by the inestimable Professor Litefoot. The rest was the same and the strange parts on the bench attracted the Doctor's immediate attention.
"Well, now, what have we here?" he mused as he considered them, "Haven't seen one of these in years. Something of a coincidence, wouldn't you say, Madame?"
He turned to find Vastra looking about the room in a vague, uneasy sort of way. Vastra realised that she was required to answer and said something non-committal.
"Really? I rather thought you'd have seen one before. Well then, allow me to explain. This little thing is surprisingly useful for ridding oneself of those pesky critters that nothing else will shift. And I'm not talking about human germs either," he added with a chuckle.
Vastra was suddenly much more attentive, "You think Hoogstraten planned to use it to defend himself against the creatures?"
"I rather wonder if he hadn't been using it; looks like it had shorted out under some misuse."
"The Professor was attempting to remedy the flaw?"
"Not a flaw at all, Madame, simply an overestimation of its abilities. Does rather make one wonder how much your Hoogstraten knew, doesn't it?"
Vastra turned back to the room, her head tilted as she thought through what little she knew of the man. An image came to her mind; Hoogstraten ensuring that he himself took ownership of this remarkable painting, of bringing it home and assuring Miss Lucy Flint that he had matters in hand. He was after all a great collector of objet de singularité, as it were. Did he truly believe that he could control such powers with nothing but the toys that he had collected? Yes, Vastra realised, that was exactly what a man like Hoogstraten would believe. And it had cost him his life and Lucy Flint perhaps much, much worse.
Vastra felt such an overpowering sense of revulsion for the man that her legs weaken beneath her. The Doctor was at her side immediately, a gentle hand on her elbow.
"I thank you, Doctor, but I am quite well."
"You're quite not," he insisted, though he released her arm, "That aside, what are we here for?"
"It would appear that we are here for that," Vastra indicated the device on the bench, "and perhaps for some clue as to the cipher for Hoogstraten's notes."
"In code? I'm really quite good with codes, you know," the Doctor said in what he may have thought was modesty.
Vastra was about to speak but something stopped her. A cold sense of impending dread gripped as tightly on her heart as had her revulsion only moments before. The bile rose in her throat and she fought to breathe through it. Once more she felt the Doctor's presence at her side but she waved him away, all of her focus on the sounds of the night outside.
"Doctor, pray, how soon can you repair the device?"
"Oh, when we get back to the Tardis it shouldn't take too long," there was a long pause and then he added nervously, "Why do you ask exactly?"
"You will recall that I mentioned having dealt with such matters before, Doctor?"
"You did."
"I fear I may have developed some sense of imminent doom."
"Ah."
He dragged out the sound, then turned back to the bench and began working with some urgency. Vastra heard the shuffling, muttering sounds that the Doctor made at only the very edge of her hearing. The rest of her focus remained on whatever sixth sense had warned her of some forthcoming danger. She shed her veil, coat and gloves, wishing that she had thought to don her more practical garb for the evening and then remembering that it lay in tatters on the floor of her bedroom.
She stalked out of the room and just as she reached the hallway, a strangled cry reached her from outside the house. Vastra briefly mourned the flabby Constable before continuing her search for some more easily defensible area. All the while, she found herself fighting down that same ancient fear that had been so overwhelming as she and Jenny fought the evils that the Borlsover family had suffered. Then she had had her beloved companion by her side and Vastra felt the loss of that great comfort more deeply than she had before.
It would cripple her if she allowed it, Vastra knew but for a few moments she could do nothing but allow the pain to have its way. Then her iron will took hold once more and she was hurrying to the back of the house just as the front door flew open. She turned to see one of the evil cherubs framed in the doorway. The faint light of dusk had faded now and there was only a little lamplight cast from further down the square. Vastra thought there might be figures standing back from the house but she could not be certain and did not have the time to make sure.
The creature was already making its gibbering way towards her. Vastra made a show of her position to ensure that she had the hideous little cherub's attention and then stumbled back into the small conservatory at the rear of the house. It was Miss Lucy Flint's private sanctum and was full of large, ostentatiously flowering plants. Vastra and Jenny had attempted to recreate the effect in their own home, filling a newly-arranged room with greenery. It had not been a success and Vastra felt an irrational anger about that, as if the plants had been deliberately obstinate in their refusal to grow.
She funnelled that anger into her increasing fear as the creature bound towards her on it's stubby legs. The viscid, pink flesh shifted and warped around it. There was a strange jabbering, chattering noise to it but no real sound from the movements themselves. Vastra watched the creature carefully, alert to the possibility of its sudden attacks. She danced around the room, using the foliage sometimes to mask her progress, sometimes to indicate it. She could not afford to allow it to turn back for the office; the Doctor must be given time to repair that strange device.
And then the pink mist was upon her, its apparent lack of mass irrelevant as it barrelled forward and bared its fanged teeth. The visage was horrifying and the effect would surely have frozen anyone who had not experienced such things before. Vastra, however, had fought things worse even than this. Though they had been rather more susceptible to the power of a well-placed kick.
Fighting back against the viscous flesh was almost impossible, any blow seemingly absorbed by the gelatinous nature of the creature. Vastra snarled and hissed as she lashed out time and again against the shifting pink mass that bore down upon her. She stumbled to the side, felt her feet give from beneath her and reached out in panic to grab for whatever might come to hand. Her desperate grasp found a large plant that surely belonged in the Cretaceous period. It stood in a heavy pot and Vastra's tumbling weight upset the whole, tipping the pot into the path of the creature.
It gibbered and skipped away from the toppling flora. Dislodged leaves seemed to embed themselves into the pink blubber and the creature appeared troubled by it. That moment of distraction allowed Vastra to scuttle away and regain her feet behind a thin shield of house plants. Now her fine dress was ripped and dark with her own blood, her flesh again rent. She had been barely aware of the creature's sharp claws or the strange little adze that it wielded with such surprising force. She ripped the tattered garb from her chest and pulled the dress from her with a vicious swipe of her hands.
So she would die naked. The thought passed through her head in such a matter-of-fact way that Vastra almost laughed aloud. Perhaps she and Jenny would be together again one day, perhaps such ideas were fanciful. They were comforting at least.
Vastra saw the flash of pink that indicated the creature's renewed attack. She stepped out from what little protection the plants had afforded her to hiss and scream at it. She lashed out at the evil little cherub, her tongue snapping from her mouth in repeated attempts to detach the axe from its grasp. They came together, Vastra's solidity engulfed by the vaporous flesh. She felt her hands press deep into the tissue as it gave against her strikes, then pass clean through with only a wispy miasma left in her grasp.
She stumbled again, the non-existent yet still pressing weight of the creature bearing down upon her. It raised the adze, the sharpened end racing down towards Vastra's prone form. It fell with unimaginable force in a short arc aimed directly at her head. Vastra's eyes closed, despite her determination to look her killer in the eye. An image of Jenny formed in her mind and Vastra relaxed, awaiting the fatal blow with an odd sort of calm.
The blow never came. Instead there was a popping sound as of a child's toy destroyed, a gust of hot, dank air and then absolute silence. Vastra's multiple eyelids opened one after the other until she was staring up at a beaming Doctor. He had disposed of his unfortunate overcoat and there was an equally unfortunate pink stain splashed across his previously white shirt and yellow trousers. He did not appear to have noticed that nor the splashes of pink mist that hissed and dissipated from his round face.
He waved the newly-assembled device above Vastra's head and smiled, obviously very pleased with himself.
"Told you so."
"Your intervention was most timely, Doctor."
"It was my pleasure, Madame Vastra," he said with an edge of disappointment. Still, he pocketed the device and reached out to help Vastra to her feet, "You appear to have discarded your clothing."
"Human garb is such a constraint, don't you find?"
"Well," he preened, "I've always been quite fond of my own wardrobe."
"And the universe is richer for it, I am sure."
Vastra looked around at the chaos that she and the creature had wrought. Poor Lucy's beloved room had been quite destroyed in their clash and now plants, pots and the sparse furniture were cast about in ruination.
"You certainly put up a fight," the Doctor considered Vastra's battered body, "and this time you really must give yourself chance to heal."
"Alas, I fear that I will not have."
"No?"
"There was only one creature, Doctor."
The Doctor's eyes grew wide, "Peri."
And with that, they were racing through the house for the front door. Much to Vastra's consternation, the Doctor veered off when they reached Hoogstraten's office. He rushed out again almost immediately, his voluminous coat in hand. Thrusting it at Vastra, the Doctor made a curt suggestion that she cover herself up and then they resumed their race to the door. The few humans who awaited the creature's victory were no match for a furious Silurian and a Time Lord concerned for his companion and soon they were rushing through the streets of London to return to Paternoster Row.
At that very location, Peri was becoming aware of movement at the back of the house. She had barred the front door and lower windows as best she could but there was very little in the house both large enough to do the job and light enough for her to move. The Zero Room was still closed and she was alone.
Peri hurried to the rear of the house to find a conservatory of sorts but not one that appeared conducive to the growth of anything very much. She cast a botanist's eye over the assortment of dying and deceased plants and pictured what the room might look like with a little care. The plant life wilted further at her mere inspection.
"Shame," Peri said to herself, "it'd be a nice room with a bit of work."
Large glassed doors stood at the back of the house, looking out on to the little-used courtyard beyond. There were more sounds from outside and Peri peered through the glass. She wondered what the outbuildings were used for but her curiosity was driven from her mind when a flash of movement caught her attention. There were people entering the courtyard; a tall figure and two shorter ones perhaps. No, Peri realised, two people carrying something heavy between them, the weight making them stoop.
Whatever it was, they dropped it in the middle of the open area and stepped away hurriedly. The third figure approached it but Peri did not wait to see more. She turned, pulled what pots and furniture there were into some sort of barrier and then hurried back to the Tardis.
As she reached the sitting room, there came a loud crashing sound and a shuffling, shifting noise from the back of the house. Peri hurried on, grateful that she had changed her clothing once more; if she had to fight whatever that thing was, at least she'd be able to move her arms and legs. Somehow that was not a comforting thought and Peri tried to ignore it as she looked around the room. Desperate to find something to barricade the door, she was attempting to coerce one of the chairs into moving when a jabbering, chatting sound stopped her.
She looked up to see a strange, pink figure in the doorway. It shimmered and shifted, the flesh quivering around the little cherubic body.
"What the hell are you?" Peri said.
She was glad that it did not respond. And then alarmed to see it rush into the room, its chubby arm raised, an oddly shaped pickaxe in its hand. Peri gave the chair a hearty shove but didn't take the time to watch it impact on the creature. She turned on her heels and raced for the Tardis door.
She was inside and forcing the doors closed when a presence behind her made her freeze.
"Where the bleedin' hell am I?"
The moment's distraction was enough to allow the creature to barge its way through the slightly open doors and Peri was sent tumbling backwards. She fell heavily to the ground, the Tardis doors sweeping wide despite the protests of whatever mechanism operated them. Peri skidded across the floor and found herself at the feet of a shocked Jenny Flint.
What happened next was a blur of pink flesh, angry Victorian maid and expletives. Peri watched it all from her dazed position on the floor. She watched the rage-fuelled charge of the human meet the amorphous mass of the creature and merely bounce off. Though Jenny did at least succeed in dislodging the weapon from its hand. Jenny tumbled back to the console and tripped over Peri's prostrate form.
There was a shout from the doorway of the sitting room, a desperate hiss of Silurian rage and the Doctor's familiar cry of, "Hold on, Peri!" Then the creature was disintegrating into a fine pink mist that choked the air. It made a shocked sort of squeaking noise and was gone. Seemingly at the same moment, Jenny's trajectory took her bouncing into the Tardis control panel and the familiar whining sound of the time rotor began.
Outside, the Doctor and Vastra skidded to a halt as the Tardis doors slapped shut and the blue box faded from view.