Sherlock and Moriarty nonsense

[improbablenotimpossible]

with hatesdeerstalkers

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If Sherlock was summoned as a Saber in the grail war and Moriarty was Marisbury

[improbablenotimpossible]

((OOC set up:
Saberlock aka "Sherlock Lily" is the college-aged young man, who just barely dipped his toes into considering Detective work as a profession, a skilled fencer with high agility and sharp senses. While absolutely brilliant, he lacks his Caster and Ruler's cynicism and experience, and is somehow even more blunt than them while retaining a bright out look))

[Saber breathes out, resting his gloved hands on the hilt of his fencing saber, watching the sun set in Fuyuki City. He felt the restless tension of an upcoming battle - he didn't know if Archer (female, India in attire) was patrolling the markets, or if the masters of Berserker or Assassin will finally play their hand - but he could sense blood will be spilled tonight.

And since his Master refuses to hide in the church, he had to keep close, and protect his naive, weak master]

...Show yourselves.

Let's get this shit started

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[There's a silence as those words as spoken - as Saber makes it clear he knows someone else is here with him.

After a moment -]

My, Saber. I didn't realize you were here.

[The voice comes from behind him, coming from a clear british, male voice. Yet, except for Sherlock, there was no other british Servant here.

....But...there was a British master.]

[improbablenotimpossible]

[A British Magus? Someone from the Clocktower perhaps? The thought popped into his head, information that he should not have known at this point in his mortal life being supplied. He hated it when it happened, as it felt like cheating to him, but he knew it was necessary to function

But no Servant... or least none he can sense, he can't rule out that this might be Assassin's Master... yet, something doesn't feel right]

I'm where I'm required to be.

[He smiles, shrugging casually, though his gray eyes was still watching]

So what brings you to this rooftop then?

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[There's nothing to imply a Servant, no - even as he casually steps closer, holding out his hands to show he's carrying nothing.]

Hm, is that so? You're not an Archer, so I'm surprised to see you this high up and away from your Master. ...Unless you have a few tricks up your sleeve?

[As he comes into view, he's a gray haired man - though it's hard to tell if that's due to age or merely his hair graying early. Yet, a look at his eyes might supply the answer - a deep red, and his skin is rather pale, even in the setting sun...]

As for myself, I'm merely enjoying the view. Nothing against that, is there?

Now for Alternative Fuyuki F Singularity Mix-Up? (name pending)

[improbablenotimpossible]

[Technically it's a singularity, aside from resolving the distortion they didn't have to do anything else, but of course Master want to solve the issue. While admirable, it makes things much more complicated - Ruler thought.

While they're getting things set up, he opted to slip away into the city itself, searching. Yes - the other Singularity involving this city was consumed by flame and corruptive grail mud, there is no doubt there's a connection. Traps, lairs, foci of power, he searches the streets and rooftops, in spirit form and in body - dressed more appropriately for the scenery in a business suit to draw just a little less attention.

His eyes were drawn to a particular, less busy intersection, following it along]

More into Eski and Shini's insane theories and AU time you mean

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[The 'distortion' was something that would most likely only pop up with the Holy Grail - yet the grail war was still in effect, the Masters lurking all around.

As he travels down the intersection, he'll see tell-tale signs of a trap in the faint, almost unseen traces of someone he knows well - like a spider's thread, lingering in the darkness.

Does he follow those signs?]

[improbablenotimpossible]

[Well - that's a familiar trace. Moriarty did have a terrible habit of appearing in unusual places. Carefully, even more careful than usual he follows the signs - stopping every once in a while to search his surroundings, walking in a manner that would seem strange to a casual observer, but in reality to avoid lurking danger.

He can't help but feel like he's being lured, but that is the nature of a detective to follow even the obvious trap]

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[The trap's signs lead him to a very well hidden trap, one designed to suck the mana out of the victim.

Though, if Holmes goes to inspect it...he'll find he can easily disarm it, oddly enough.

But if he does -

A wire trap will lash out, seeking to catch whatever it can in thin, magically enhanced wires, painfully leeching what mana they can get.]

That point in time where everything goes to goddamn Hell

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[The alien god was gone, literally destroyed by the efforts of their Master.

And also destroyed as the final Beast was born, and its concept utterly devoured by that infant Beast.

Beast VII, the Beast of the End. The Infant Beast of Knowledge had finally appeared as the Lostbelts faded, the world below going back to how it had before the texture of the world had been literally blanked out, all the deaths caused by the god reversed -

(And it was at the expense of a certain Servant, one who had been at their Master's side the entire time, Sherlock Holmes)

- And now, back in Chaldea, everyone was at a lost of what to do, prepared for an attack that would never truly come.

...He would have to tell them all - soon.

But before he revealed this final, horrible secret...he had one last thing to do.

Before Holmes vanished, he still had a communicator with him. Of course, They had shut it down in the fear that the Beast would attempt to attack over it, but such a simple thing was easy enough to reverse even remotely.

And now, in his room, the door firmly locked and furniture placed against the door (though it wouldn't truly help against Servants, if it came down to it), he activated the channel - one way, only connecting the Beast to him.

And Moriarty waited for the person that had been - no, was still Sherlock Holmes - to notice his holographic form, saying nothing.]

[improbablenotimpossible]

[As soon as the communicator came to life, he noticed. Nothing escapes his eyes, seeing not just past, present, and future, but all the interlocking parts that made up the world, from the texture overlaying the earth, the whorls of spirits breathing life into the land, if a human stood before him, he'd see each individual cell and the od they carry as well as the entire being.

However, Beast VII did not see the need to immediately respond as the holographic form of James Moriarty... no, the carrier of his Authority flared to life. But when the man fails the speak, he deemed that the carrier expected him to talk - and his voice comes out, flat and cold]

You want to tell her everything.

[A statement of fact]

However, there is something you want to tell me first.

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[At the mere sound of his voice-

That symbol on his chest, that mark of the Authority...it flared to life, giving a vibrant, red glow that could be seen even through his chest. That power, the burning destruction it carried - the missing piece that kept this infant Beast from adulthood - burns in his chest, making him wince in agony before speaking again.]

I never thought I'd say this, but I preferred you when you were irrevocably smug.

[Placing a hand over the mark, he continues.]

...You're correct, of course. I am going to tell her everything - and allow her to make a choice on how to proceed.

If she can think rationally...well. You will never fully come into your power.

[improbablenotimpossible]

[Logically - Moriarty, should know her character well enough to determine the answer to that, the mask-like face suddenly became one of concern and fear without any hint of transition before just as suddenly returning to placid serenity - only the other half of the Beast would have notice this]

If humans are capable of making the wisest choice at all times, WE would not be needed. Why are you trying to deny what they had sought for since they reached for the fruit so long ago?

With the root - they will not be threatened by beings like the {}{}{}{}{}{}{} -

[The alien god, as the concepts have been devoured, if anyone else tried to listen in, all they would hear is a gnawing silence, and a sense of being drawn into oblivion if they tried to decipher what the silence was covering]

This is by our calculations the best means of protecting the curious, eager children called humans from those that will rob them of that.

[Though the phrase would seem to be one full of affection, the Beast's voice was still as chilled and still as a frozen lake]

ROLESWAP plus with added theory

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[The night was foggy, as was common in London at this time of year - and as he walked back to his apartment with Watson at his side, James was lost in thought.

They'd just finished with a rather interesting case - one that had given him plenty to think about. The case of a portrait in a museum going missing, though that had merely been a cover for the bigger crime - that is, of the forgeries of quite a few of the pieces hanging up, having been replaced during the theft, and the real ones taken. It spoke of a larger organization - something he had been wondering about for some time.

There was someone stirring London's criminal element, someone so very deviously clever as to use crimes to cover up larger ones, and use misleading ends to their own gain. As he walked, he talked to his friend - to Watson, that pure, simple soul that he so very appreciated and cherished - about it.

Ultimately, in that chat (which he had to tell the man that no, the suspect was not of African decent), he gave a name to the shadowy figure he could almost grasp in the end.

Anansi - the spider trickster god. Like a hunting spider, this person struck out and was clever, using misdirection and tricks to cover his tracks before striking.

'You're rather like a spider yourself, James.'

That remark had startled him for a moment, though the doctor continued and said it was due to how cautious he was, like an orb-weaver in her web. He'd laughed - and agreed, also noting the glint in Watson's eye that meant this exchange would be going down in his memoirs, and gently ribbing the man about it.

At no time at all, he saw Watson off at his front door - with a smile and telling him to give his regards to Mary - and stepped inside. It wasn't long before he was in a nightdress, his hair down after working all the gel out of it, sitting before the fire in his armchair with a glass of brandy and his cat purring away on his lap. A simple night to cap off a successful day seemed to be in store, much like how he had been since the moment he was 'born.'

At the very least, he's relaxed enough to let certain things slip his notice...like the fact that he forgot to lock his front door.]

[improbablenotimpossible]

[Anansi as James knew him as was on the prowl. It was a complicated game, as intricate as a spun web, he struck and melted back into the shadow.

This wasn't the life he expected when he left those years ago, but fate and skill lead him first to investigate the gangs, and then taking them over (they're willing to self-destruct before they make peace or withdraw as he remembered, if they all listen to one man, they'll be forced to do what he wants), focusing and redirecting their skills, the planning made that voice in the back of his head quieter.

It was almost disturbing how easily he settled into the role, sometimes the small part of him that remembered who he was whispering disapprovingly of his sins, but the other voice tends to drown that out easily. And the other thing, he had noticed slowly, he found it harder and harder to hold onto emotions, things flitting in and out like mist, only moments of intimacy or playing cat and mouse with a clever detective made him feel anything remotely human. Otherwise, he was the cunning spider, calculating and cool.

The thoughts were forced back as he quietly opens the door, getting near this flat just brought a strange feeling to his chest - one he would recognize in hindsight as regret and sorrow. The crackle of the fire, the glass, the rumbling loud purr - he knew where James was.

Otherwise, it really hadn't changed... He decided to just sit at the table, to see how long it would take for the man to notice, if it weren't for the cat suddenly hissing 'Who are you? Why are you in my territory?!' at him]

[hatesdeerstalkers]

Abby?

[Of course, he hadn't noticed - and it took his cat to alert him to the man's presence, blinking and setting his glass aside as his pet jumped out of his arms and towards where she had smelled the intruder. Carefully grabbing a pistol and placing it in his robe's pocket, he followed her -

And stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes going wide as he just...stared.

He knew who this was - there was no way he wouldn't, even though his memories of that day were muddled with pain and confusion. He knows those intense green eyes...the same ones that had stared at him, beginning to say Something before changing his mind and walking out of his life forever.

James' mouth went dry, and before he knew what he was doing - a name came forth hoarsely, a name that is supposed to be His, but...

...in reality, had always belonged to the person in front of him, just like this house, just like James himself -]

...Sherlock...?

You've - You've returned.

[improbablenotimpossible]

[He looks up at the man, those green eyes flickering over the man, his expression quiet and neutral. While clearly the same man, there were some marked differences: he was paler, a little more gaunt, his hair now hanging loosely, giving him a more boyish look, like an unusually tall waif. But there's minor traces of a harder life, a brow having a small notch from a nearly invisible thin scar, and a flinty edge behind those eyes.

When 'return' came from the man's lips, the man seem to straighten up a little, again feeling that faint tinge of pain in his chest. Yes, this once was his home - before he made that choice, back when he still had strong, intense emotions. While in retrospect, it was an incredibly irrational decision, but some part of him still felt like it was the right one.

Slowly his eyes went to the bulge in the robe's pocket, then back up to James, brows raised in a knowing fashion]

So I have. I am not here to replace you or chase you out.

A What if from Daybreak

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[In the original timeline - Moran, in his rage and grief over Moriarty's 'death', had taken a shot that was enough to allow Sherlock to escape his Sire, and flee the area.

But what would have happened if, say, he had merely mourned, and never attempted to find the man again?

Some things, at least, wouldn't have changed. Moriarty would have still lived his lives among humans, with crime and experiments of his 'immortality' - but there would have been a change. Gaining an interest in the world of magic, after all, and the new things to find there would have drawn him in much more than the prospect of teaching while standing in that world - no, it would have been an unconscious seeking out of the darker sides, plumbing the depths for...something.

Still, the years go by - like water, like they always have - and, eventually, he would get in contact with Dracula himself over something - this and that, the specifics weren't important - only that they were about to become partners in a mutual, highly illegal venture. As such, it would only be proper to meet the vampire face to face, and so...

He invited him over to his own current base of operations - after all, he was no fool - and stepping foot into dracula's castle would only guarantee he would never walk out again, especially with his immortality. Much better to meet in an area he could control, or beat a hasty retreat if need be.

And that is how, in this moment - he's found himself staring at the one person who he never imagined he would ever see again in this world, while trying not to show the sheer shock and disbelief rocketing through his system while still holding up a conversation.]

Ah, yes...So, what is the name of your, ah...'Childe?' is that the correct term?

[Tearing his eyes away from the vampire - Sherlock, Sherlock, oh god in heaven, he's a vampire - he kept his face straight and clear, though it was hard not to notice the sly smile spreading across Dracula's face and bite back a curse.

He knew. Of course he did. Goddamnit all.]

Well, it is a famous name - Sherlock Holmes? I am sure you know of it. The world believed he died at the falls, but no, he became mine.

I see. How - interesting, [Trying not to falter over his words, biting back everything he wanted to say] but shall we discuss what we came here for?

Of course.

[What they discussed fell to time for him - it was all a blur, a blur only punctuated by the glances he kept giving at the silent (Why silent? Holmes wasn't silent, Holmes was something different, this was wrong wrong wrong wrong) man at Dracula's side.

It was akin to a kind of torture, that - and finally, it came to an end, their discussion having ended well. With a smile, Dracula shook his hand - and a chill ran down Moriarty's smile as the Vampire smiled in a cruel, knowing way.]

I must go, for a moment - but I will leave him here. Not to worry - he is quite tamed, and will not act unless it is on my orders. If you wanted to say anything to him, you could...but that is not my business. I will see you soon, dear friend.

[And in a burst of mist, he left...leaving only the two men alone in the room, in the most 'wink wink nudge nudge' sort of way. However, if the man had expected gloating...nothing like that happened.

In fact, in the silence - in the space between them - Moriarty, wearing a different face, having years and years and years of life...was speechless, just for a little bit.

...But then - as if to break that spell - he slowly, slowly reached out, hand overing toward the man in the air, a shocked, unbelieving whisper coming to his lips.]

...H....Holmes...?

[improbablenotimpossible]

[Even if Dracula couldn't ultimately take England like he had planned - he had made startling large claims in Europe, aided by the politics of the post-war era, and more so he managed to keep it, many elder vampires suddenly disappearing, and despite the man's legendary disdain for humans, he made deals with the various smuggling rings and black marketeers in his territory, and this one seems to different.

However Sherlock did not expect to see the man before him, blue-eyes (but his face had changed, his voice, his eyes stayed the same) staring at him with almost equal shock. However muted he tried to be, his eyes fluttered open, almost like a doll at the sight of Moriarty, his own eyes once the soft gray of rain clouds was now the color of dark blood.

He said nothing, and was still as an alabaster figure, only his hands moved to record the meeting, like a meek little secretary. There was a brief motion - a micro-expression of - shame? grief? - when Dracula referred to him as tamed, before the elder vampire vanished.

For a long time, he held still, his eyes closing before he felt the sensation of someone reaching to him, then the whisper, his eyes opening more naturally, stiffness in his shoulders disappearing]

So... you are real.

[Then his lips pursed, realizing those little words revealed too much, then his next words came, a thousand little questions begging to come out but the uncharacteristic skittishness held it back]

All this time... you lived.

[hatesdeerstalkers]

['You are real.'

That one phrase says everything - how he's been treated, how he's been tamed - and almost instantly, there is a rush of sheer, writhing anger flooding Moriarty, intense and total.

He would finish what Van Helsing started - that much, he swore while looking at what his once great rival - the man who dared to take him down at the peak of his power! - had become.]

I lived...yes.

[Just like those pauses, that phrase revealed too much. The unbidden 'I didn't want to', 'I never intended to' - all in the space of that hesitation.

His hand is still up in the air - and, after a moment, he walked forward, breaching personal space to lay a hand on the vampire's shoulder.

I really am real.]

But it seems I have had a much kinder time than you.

Namless master and Servant?

[improbablenotimpossible]

[Suddenly becoming aware is a feeling that's impossible to truly describe, it's not quite like suddenly jolting awake, or coming out of heavy sedation... or anything like that.

His feet touch the ground, his coat fluttering from the movement as it's draped over his shoulder, messy hair getting in his eyes. His brows knitted, his head... feels strangely soft, light and ethereal despite his body being completely solid - as if things are missing.

The saber glances around, looking for the one who summoned him]

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[The one who summoned him -

He's a man, perhaps a little older than his Servant. Messy gray shoulder length hair, along with blue-gray eyes and clothing that looks as if someone just tossed it on him - with a set of command seals glowing faintly in the light on the back of his right hand.

His eyes are wide, shocked - but he quickly points behind the both of them, screaming -]

Watch out!

[As a Chimera suddenly swipes at where the nameless servant's head is with a large paw.]

[improbablenotimpossible]

Ah-?!

[Instinct takes over as the Chimera swipes, as he lunges out of the way, drawing the rapier out. He soon baits the creature, drawing it away from his suppose Master, stabbing when he perceives an opening. It was a deadly dance that went on for minutes, the Chimera growing winded and more bloody, before with a gargled roar, it collapses, and the Servant stands, panting as he held a hand over his shoulder, blood bleeding through]

Are... are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?

Lobotomy Corporation AU

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[The Second Trumpet was blaring over the intercom, even in their department.

The screams and faint sounds of bodies being torn apart, of their fellow Agents dying - that could be easily heard as it echoed through the halls and the Aleph that had broken free went on it's little rampage.

Clerks were panicking or hiding wherever they could, praying to whatever deity they believed in. But, agents like them couldn't hide - they weren't allowed to.

It was only a matter of time before they were called down to be more chaff in the threshing machine - sacrificed, for a time, unless all of the other anomalies got out and destroyed the world.

That might be interesting to see, Moriarty mused - surprised that he could still remain so calm in the face of this.

But he'd seen death and violence out in the city, executing men and watching their drawn out, violent deaths as a member of that Syndicate - the same one that had changed his very face, voice, and name before shoving him in here under the pretense of 'gaining information.'

In a Wing where workers rarely came back out from.

When they stopped asking for information only two weeks in, he laughed.

'Ah, well. I suppose I would have done the same thing to a potential rival.'

Perhaps he merely lacked the capacity for fear - no, perhaps this was what he was merely prepared for the entire time?

Death, coming here.

In his Suit - sparkling and yet sorrowful, taken from the Knight of Despair - he turns to look over at the person he instinctively didn't trust from the moment they met.

The noises have died down, but the trumpet is still blaring.]

It seems it won't be long now....Sherlock, was it?

[His voice is light, like they're having a conversation over a meal.]

Are you prepared?

Re: Lobotomy Corporation AU

[improbablenotimpossible]

[Sherlock almost envied how calm the other man was - even if it did raise his hackles at the sight - he's shaking on the inside, breath quickening. He held a hand up, focusing as the brown robe flutter in the draft in the hall - easily mistaken for a monk if it weren't for the glittering gold gauntlets on his hands.

He opens his mouth, to answer - but the words died in his throat, swallowing, before he tries to speak again, a low, croaking sound escapes as he tries to steel him.

...He did it before, he should be able to do it again - he needs to - he has to. There can't be a repeat of last time]

There's little anyone can do to be prepared for it....

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[Panic.

Yes, that was the more normal response, wasn't it? The way he's swallowing, showing all the signs...

That was more in line with people who were still new agents in all sense of the word. It was how he should also be acting. and yet...

Is it a side effect of having an entirely new identity? That I don't feel like 'myself?' That if I die, if 'James Moriarty' dies, 'I' will still be fine?

It was all delusion, if that was the case.

Or maybe...

He shakes his head, to clear the thought.]

Yes....I suppose so. It's a shame...All those lives lost to this. Just what is our Manager doing, I wonder?

[Manager. Unlike the Department Head, the employee that had the highest clearance...that name was normally said with an almost reverance.

Not that he knew why - the Manager so far had been awful at his job, leading to this.

There was the sound of a greater meltdown happening soon - soon, it would be the third trumpet, wouldn't it?

...And yet, he's still....calm. Even when he's trying to tell himself what's happening.]