shinytoybox | Sherlock and Moriarty nonsense

[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...?

[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.

['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.

[A sharp sound escapes his voice, the anger - he knew that rage, one he once had, boiling, threatening to spill over, sharper than any knife, sharper than the fangs that made him like this. It wasn't his own, not this time - was - no... he wouldn't simply feel it that intensely if he merely was reading the man. Then how...?

And the words... he always suspected as such, that Moriarty planned to end his life in his own way in the surge of the falls instead of the end of a rope in front of a jeering crowd after months of a humiliating trial.

A tremble went through him at the touch, what emotion was causing it? He's trying to figure it out, as it felt as if the self-imposed fog was starting to thin, though Dracula cannot truly read his mind - his one true sanctuary in his time - the vampire was a good reader of expression and mood. And the exploiter of them.

It was safer to retreat from all outward signs of himself, to stop feeling - he didn't know when he started to think that, but it was something that happened. As he speaks, it was in the manner of someone cautious of being overheard, clearly not trusting his Sire to be truly gone as he said]

It seems... Yes, good lord. Of all the improbable things to happen, this one never crossed my mind once.

Edited 2019-10-26 21:47 (UTC)

[...yes, of course. Of course he would be cautious - and almost instantly, he tugs on his strings, testing if the string he had attached was still on.

And it was. Dracula was far too arrogant to notice a little thing like that, and he could tell that he was, indeed, moving away, chuckling quietly to himself. No doubt imagining what he was saying to Holmes - assuming that he was just the same as the vampire.

Bastard.

With a movement of his hand, he quietly allows the thread attached to Dracula catch in the light, alerting Sherlock to it's presence, before he speaks.]

Yes, indeed - but, you needn't worry. You can be a little freer with your speech in front of me - he has actually moved away, the arrogant fop.

[The last word is laced with bitter venom - and as his eyes flash coldly, he lets go of Sherlock's shoulder.]

If I had known where you were before this, I would have wrested you from his claws years ago.

[The gesture was subtle, one he noticed he would not have spotted with human eyes. So the Professor learned some new tricks, a stray part of his mind noted.

Like a spider's thread... he remembered the tale when he was in Tibet, the thread of a spider was a sinner's sole chance of escaping hell. Was it the same here? The tension in his body - taut enough that one could draw a longbow with, was slowly evaporating.

And an odd sound came from him, it took him a moment to remember what it was - laughter. The insult wasn't even that funny, especially not with how venomous Moriarty was saying it]

You can't blame yourself for that, don't even think of starting on it - much as he enjoys showing off his "Prizes", he knows when to keep his weapons concealed, the fiend was a warlord and still have the instincts of one.

[A laugh is a start - as well as the reduction of the tension in his body. That's good - that's how this man should be. The same man who laughed in his face when he threatened mutual destruction, the detective who was practically a gremlin in his own right.]

...I suppose - but it's clear, then, that he definitely still thinks like one, with all the associated arrogance and cockiness. Such things will be his inevitable downfall.

[He gives a fierce grin - before shaking his head, sighing.]

That is, if I can get his trust. But - mark my words. I will take you from that man, no matter the cost. Sherlock Holmes should not be the thrall of an outdated madman of a vampire!

Mad is the least of it.

[He doesn't elaborate, though the way his eyes momentarily darts - searching, despite Moriarty's assurance says more than anything else.

His lips pursed faintly, in thought, it seemed almost too good - but he recognize this was a last chance. Deadening himself, it let him survived - but that was not what he wanted to do, to constantly dull his senses, dull his thoughts to avoid the vampire's punishments. His brows knitted, while he has been less tense, there's still the guarded wariness. But for the first, in a long time... a flicker of lightness in his chest despite his heart being still.]

He has much to answer for.

[Is this what it's like to have something to look forward to?]

Edited 2019-10-27 00:30 (UTC)

[A flicker of hope. That was all Moriarty was looking for - and he smiles, in a wry sort of way.

...How odd. That flicker - it was if he himself felt it...?]

I should damned hope so! As it is, we'll have to formulate a plan - he will, most likely, continue to meet with me for at least a few times more. Before the end of that, we'll have to figure out a way to get you free of him, and find a place to hide, as it were.

[His mind is already rattling, shaking off the fog and tiredness, as if it never existed, nor plagued him for decades. Already, he was feeling - much more like himself.]

Though before then, we should probably continue to make him believe I'm gloating at you - I believe he thinks we're kindred spirits of a sort.

[His fingers rested against his chin, eyes closing. To think, the man that had tried to kill him is now his one and perhaps only hope from hell.

Fate is a twisted woman.

Now to think, to plan beyond avoiding the pain and the torment of his mind - dust off the furniture in his attic space, perhaps some of it will remain intact despite it all.]

Yes, he'll liable to bring me with him if he believes it would please you, to make negotiations go smoother. To hide - ah, he'll certainly go to the ends of the earth to claim what he thinks is 'his'.

[There's a tone of sheer revulsion in there, the sense of bile rising in the back of his throat, fangs momentarily exposed before he catches himself.]

After that, well - I will come up with something.

Well, I can easily act that I'm pleased to see my old nemesis collared and brought in as a servant - as can you, of course.

[He listens, before curtly nodding - as if understanding something.]

Ah, I see. If he is that tenacious, then - We'll have to kill him.

[Said utterly calmly, and easily.]

I assume the stake through the heart is still a common weakness?

[There's a sense that if he could, his face would be flushed. As soon as the words 'kill him' spilled from Moriarty's mouth, he felt that pent up anger, the long-suppressed wish uncoiling in glee at the sheer thought of being rid of the monster]

Yes, as well as decapitation.

[That intense joy - it almost took him off guard, but he tried not to let it show as he continued to speak.

..How odd. Is he experiencing what Holmes is? No, that can't be....can it?]

Well then! I'll keep a cleaver in my desk, as well as a stake. We'll wait for the right time to strike - when his guard is down the lowest. I assume that you wouldn't mind lopping his head off yourself, if I can strike him through the heart?

[He gives a sharp, firm nod, lips trying to pull into a dark grin but he catches himself]

I would be glad to.

Of course. The right to give the final blow belongs to you.

[He sees the catching - and while he thinks that it would be better for Holmes to just give in, ultimately...

...he's glad to see that he isn't.

Suddenly, his web tugs - and he hisses a curse under his breath.]

He's coming back. In 5 minutes, I should think. Since he most likely thinks I've been in here berating you, well - perhaps we should make it a bit dramatic for when he arrives?

[It's natural to want to, to give the man his worst, he knew it's a slippery road. Even if he had killed people as a Vampire, it was not out of joy or pleasure.

He feared giving in completely would be too intoxicating. The man catches the curse, and he shifts, to the stiff straight-back posture he had before, eyes half-lidded. Despite himself, despite knowing there's a plan, the tension slithers back into him]

He'll believe me cowed, but I suppose being faced with one's Nemesis would spark something.

A good thing I am not a violent man by nature - Otherwise, I would have suggested slapping or hitting you. Still, I believe this should be sufficient.

[There's a moment where he pauses, looking sherlock over, noting the quick shift back to his old ways - and reaches his hand out again, as the feeling of brushing up against a spiderweb suddenly resonates.]

If anything should come up - or if you have a moment to yourself - speak, and I will hear. it's an unfortunately one way form of communication, but...

[The thread is nearly invisible, even as Moriarty himself slides into a much more triumphant posture, with a sneer on his face, as if he's both pleased by it and condescending at the same time, almost impossible to tell that it's an act...if not for the very, very faint giveaways, faint enough to be invisible to Dracula, at least.]

What a pitiful creature you've become, Holmes. No words to fight back to me, anymore? Are you so collared that you can't even muster up the will to renounce me, as you did in the past?

[Saying it for the hearing of the vampire, as he holds up two fingers in a 'two minutes' warning, subtly.]

Still better than nothing given the circumstances.

[it was that feeling again, it's not a pleasant one, but if he can force himself to be demure for years, he can tolerate this.

Doyle had once claimed in him, the world lost an actor, but Moriarty was not a bad act himself, Holmes thought as he goes to speak. His voice comes out brittle as spun glass, knowing that tone so well, the one he always uses after stepping a toe out of line. The old scripts came, when the women (his siblings in a twisted way) would torment him.]

I have no words for you, Moriarty. I do not need them. There's no point in fighting you.

[It's a painful tone, that voice - so different from his memories that he can't help but give a single wince when he knows that Dracula isn't yet there before composing himself.]

No point in fighting me...? Truly? Is that truly how you feel, standing in front of the man who tried to drag you down to hell with him? Like this, you've become nothing more than a servant - and it seems that suits you. How your dear Watson would mourn how you look now!

[A bit of a low blow, but the Moriarty that Dracula wants to see wouldn't hesitate. He would want to see a reaction, spitting out caustic words.]

[He actually flinches, eyes shot open in shock. That's right - he's doing it because it's what Dracula expects, he had to remind himself. His lips curled back in a fanged grimace, fingers curling against his knee]

Don't you dare use his name, Spider. Your vile tongue would only taint it.

[Then he could feel it, the looming presence, the shadow over his soul, and he soon falls silent as Dracula made his presence known, the vampire looking over the two with a critical eye, Sherlock meeting his gaze for a moment, before lowering his eyes.]

Pity I seem to miss the bulk of it, Moriarty. I see you managed to invoke a little bit of spirit from my Childe,

[He crooks a finger, lifting up the former detective's chin, stroking under it in cruel affection - and it's clear that Sherlock was restraining himself]

[Though his face didn't show it, the moment that Dracula did that touching, lifting his chin?

He quietly thought about how very quickly he could lop off the offending digit with the knife concealed in his jacket, before reining the thought back in. No, no - not yet. He absolutely couldn't do that yet, as it would ruin everything.

So he laughs, light and peaceful, placing his hands behind his back.]

Just a bit! Sadly, you've trained him well - almost too well. That last flash of spirit was the most I'd gotten, though -

[He gives a sly, almost predatory grin at Sherlock.]

- if you see fit, I wouldn't mind trying to invoke a bit of that spirit again...?

[He lifts his eyebrows, as if to amplify his question, before laughing again.]

Of course, it's your choice, my dear partner.

[Truly, he would have been amazing on the stage.]

[Much as Sherlock would love to see the offending finger go flying in the night, he would be glad that cooler heads prevailed, they're just starting a dangerous game. Though the sick feeling settled in his stomach, he showed no outward response to the stroke. Either he was an excellent actor, or he is sadly used to this invasion of his personal space. His eyes slowly flicks over to Moriarty at the grin]

It did take quite a long time for him to know his place, he truly was a stubborn one.

[Dracula muses, as Sherlock held his tongue]

A little flash of fire would prove an amusing diversion. A reminder...

A reminder of what he was? Truth be told, I'm certain even you miss it. Did you ever read the accounts, sir? This man once laughed in my face and told me that if mutual destruction was our end, that he would be willing to be dragged down to hell with me if that was what it took.

[He shrugs, quietly - balancing between being slightly insulting, slightly challenging...and yet preferring to defer to the CLEARLY stronger person. An amusing partner, an amusing diversion...gain trust and grease the right wheels, flatter the right way.

It's almost an art - and it's so easy to see how he managed to control london's underground so easily as he pulls off this performance.]

It is a bit disappointing, I must admit - but if you're willing to continue bringing him here, then I wouldn't be remiss in trying to reignite that spark for you.

[He doesn't like speaking about Holmes like he's - some sort of animal, or a child. But, that's the way this must be.]

[Good, Sherlock thought - focusing on the dialogue now, keep the revulsion down. It was strangely illuminating, seeing how the man was spinning stories - true ones, but stories nonetheless to keep the Vampire's interest. The younger vampire could almost see how Moriarty was thinking, how he goes for just the right inflection, the appropriate cadence for the desired effect]

And to the broken state I had found him in, his spirit proved much more resilient. But like any stallion, one just needs a firm hand. This might prove entertaining, Mr. Moriarty.

[He lets go of Sherlock's chin, before rising back up, gesturing for the Englishman to stand as well]

It is about time for us to leave, shall we meet tomorrow?

Of course! I look forward to our next meeting.

[To anyone else, it would have sounded pleasant, cheerful.

But the intent rung out clear as day, to those that knew.

The plot is beginning to be carried out.

---

And through the days, such meetings continued. The dance between the two - no, the single stage act that Moriarty played for the benefit of the elder vampire, while conspiring in the scant moments that they were left alone and out of earshot.

Eventually, their time came to an end - and the day before, he had given Sherlock a stake, while keeping a cleaver on his own person for the final day. The chat was pleasant - friendly, almost - until it was time to bid farewell to the man.]

Well then, Dracula. I suppose we'll be in touch, hmm?

[Extending his right hand, he slowly slipped the cleaver out of his clothing with his left, still looking like the friendly, if challenging partner he had presented himself as this entire time.]

Ha, but - do be careful, won't you? After all...

[He brandishes the cleaver, trying to bring it up while seeming ever so slightly hesitant, trying to keep the vampire's eyes soley on him.

After all, once the bait is taken - Well.

Sherlock would know what to do.]

- You really need to watch your back!

Edited 2019-10-27 08:42 (UTC)

A What if from Daybreak

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