Sherlock Holmes - The demon barber of Baker Street

by ko-writes

Sherlock Holmes was a barber in Baker street. He pines after his long-lost love, John, and wishes to get revenge on the man who tore them apart; murder has never been so delicious. Dark!Sherlock, Dark!Molly. Johnlock, (Sort of) Sherlolly, Mystrade, one sided Moricroft, one sided Johniarty. I own nothing. Warnings: Gore and violence, depression. *Happier ending than Sweeney Todd*

5. Practices

Judge Moriarty led Greg through the expensive mansion into the dark library, filled with books. Greg looked around for Mycroft warily, this was all very strange.

"You were looking for Hyde Park, you say?" Moriarty inquired lightly, but the tone seemed forced.

"Yes," Greg clarified, "It's terribly large on the map but I keep getting lost…"

"Sit down, lad, sit down," He gestured to a plush, soft chair. Greg sat, uncomfortable, as the Judge poured two snifters of brandy.

"It's embarrassing for a sailor to lose his bearings, but, well, there you are," Greg chuckled nervously.

The tall, muscular form of Moran appeared from the shadows; no introduction made. Greg glances to him, uneasy.

"A sailor, eh?" There is something in the judge's voice he couldn't place.

"Yes, sir. The "Bountiful" out of Plymouth," Greg nodded, unsure of the tone the judge had set.

Moriarty handed him a snifter of brandy. "A sailor must know the ways of the world, yes?" Moriarty's eyes narrowed almost undetectably, "Must be practiced in the ways of the world… Would you say you are practiced, boy?"

"Sir?"

The Judge moved to consider some beautiful volumes, bound in the richest leather. He ran a finger along the spines of the books; his large library of pornography. "Oh, yes… such practices… the geishas of Japan… the concubines of Siam... the catamites of Greece… the harlots of India. I have them all here – drawings of them…" He turned again to Greg, "All the vile things you've done with your whores." Lestrade was speechless; the Judge just smiled at him amiably. "Would you like to see?"

Greg stood to leave, "I think there's been some mistake –"

"Oh, I think not," Moriarty interrupted, "You gandered at my ward, Mycroft – Yes, sir, you gandered."

Moran moved behind Gregory, who glanced back nervously at the large, strong man. "I meant no harm –"

"Your meaning is immaterial," Moriarty growled, "Mark me: if I see your face again on this street, you'll rue the day your bitch of a mother gave you birth."

Greg was stunned. The Judge proceeded with shocking venom, "My Mycroft isn't one of your whores! My Mycroft is not to be gandered at!

He nodded to the Beadle, who instantly grabbed Greg and brutally hauled him out of the room.