Sherlock Holmes (Ruler) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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shinytoybox2019-05-22 10:16 pm
improbablenotimpossible) wrote in shinytoybox2019-05-22 10:16 pmEntry tags:
improbablenotimpossible) wrote in shinytoybox2019-05-22 10:16 pm
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...But, wait. Was this - truly how it was supposed to go? Even as the bloody tears traced down Sherlock's face, Moriarty felt a sense of deep unease under the joy and mixed emotions.
Is something...wrong?]
...Holmes.
[The vampire - had to be dead, at this point, obviously - but there didn't seem to be any point to stop for the other man. Despite everything - seeing his face, that strange feeling inside of him - Moriarty came forward, reaching out a hand towards his shoulder.]
...Holmes! That's enough, he's already -
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And make his chest stop hurting so much.
He didn't even realized what happened, he flung the cleaver into the far wall at the touch, startled his body twists like a serpent lashing out blindly before-]
Mor-Moriarty?!
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He'd fucked up.
It had been so sudden - the toss, the lunge, the way mere fingers could wrench themselves into his throat and pull and tear apart tissue and blood vessels -
not that he could feel that pain, but - Ha, how ironic. Dying to Holmes again, for the second time.
With his throat open to the world, he couldn't speak - his larynx had been crushed by the mindless berserker state Holmes was in - but he still <tried, a horrible gurgling sound rising up as he reached out a hand to try and grab at Sherlock's arm.]
Ghh...hh....ngh....gaah...ghkkk...
[Shit. Shit, this was the worst time for something like this - while it would be on the shorter side, Holmes didn't know about his immortality.
And he didn't want the man to run or do anything rash, even as he knew his death was fast approaching.]
Sh...Shhhh...
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Sherlock catches him, frantically thinking, wheels spinning as he tries to in futile, staunch the bleeding. This was his fault, he's the one who did this.]
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[Fuck it - his vision is going black at the edges, and he can't make the words of what he wants to say.
So, he merely grabs on harder to the clothing - to the man's arm - as he locks eyes with him.
But...where one would expect to see pain, fear, betrayal - there was nothing but clarity as he gazed, eyes saying one thing.
Don't run, and don't do anything stupid.
With that expressed - he finally let go of his hold on life, a horrible death rattle coming from his ruined throat as his eyes half-closed and faded, life leaving.
...Yet, he still held onto Sherlock's arm, even though he was dead...like he had wanted, with all of his might, to keep the man in the area.
Which, well, he did.]
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All the emotions running hot in him went cold, as he scans the room, thinking, mulling - part of him wanted to bolt, to flee into the night but upon seeing Dracula's mangled corpse, his eyes narrowed.
Before he goes, he had to make sure the man didn't rise. He searches the house, finding everything flammable possible, dragging the corpse behind him outside, using the cleaver to sever his head, before building a bonfire over the body, setting it a light - instincts forcing him to scramble away before he works on the head, smashing the fangs with the cleaver handle, and despite his natural aversion, stuffing garlic into the maw before pitching it into the lake.
Then he sits, staring at the fire, legs pulled to his chest, arms folded over them]
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At precicely one hour, Moriarty jolted back to life - and after the requisite coughing up the blood clot, he wiped his mouth and looked around - and cursed.
Neither Dracula nor Sherlock were there - and for a brief moment, his mind raced, believing that somehow, the horrid thing had survived - before the stench of burning flesh hit his senses, and he scrambled to his feet, looking down in a window and seeing the bonfire, along with a certain familiar figure staring at the flames.
...Ah. Good. so, in the end, Dracula was dead, and they had survived.
Caring little for the blood that stained him, Moriarty quietly went outside, walking softly, as not to alert the Vampire to his presence, before he got close enough behind him to be heard.]
...A beautiful night for a bonfire.
[...Just giving him one last scare should be enough, right?]
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Again, he wondered - with the powers and banes that Dracula had that he didn't, if his Sire had made a contract in the past. He'll figure it out later, once he figures out what to do next.
Normally he'd noticed, someone approaching, but his thoughts were such a mess that he nearly jumped out of his skin as Moriarty spoke, springing up to his feet and pivoting to turn in one motion, like a spooked cat]
Pro-Professor?!
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[He does look satisfied at the pivoting, but maybe he did feel a little bad about spooking the poor man, lifting up a hand in an open-palm gesture.]
It's alright - I am truly back, lest you worry about your faculties. Shall we sit?
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[He stated, somewhere between sheepish and peeved, breathing out slowly, or least the motions of it]
Yes... there is much to be explained, such as how you managed to not have a gaping hole in your throat.
[Sherlock slowly settles down]
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[He says it cheerfully, as he takes a seat, looking at the oddly colored smoke coming off before sighing.]
But - for whatever reason - after the falls, I could die...but it would never 'stick.' I always come back, no matter the damage.
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[His brows knitted slightly, glancing over him, fingers resting over his chest - clearly mulling over things]
That would explain how you survived all this time.
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[With a gentle motion, he holds out his hand - and a glowing blue butterfly appears out of the air around him, fluttering down on it to sit.]
- I kept these out of the eyes of that man, just in case he suspected I was anything other than a human. After all...A man who cannot die, in front of such a vampire?
[It would be too easy to exploit.]
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[He watches the soft blue of the butterfly giving a gentle contrast to the harsh red light and dark shadows cast by the bonfire. And even in the poor lighting, it's clear he's a complete mess, with blood and dirt all over him]
I'm afraid we cannot exactly rest, not yet. My 'sisters' will no doubt realize we're not coming back.
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His 'brides', you mean? Yes, I suppose they would be sisters...of a sort. Still, it's no great feat to leave and gain a new identity somewhere. I have enough cash for both of us to clean up, gain new clothing, and leave this place behind.
[He gives an idle look at the home, before shrugging.]
I already have an insurance policy out on myself, and with the bonfire and the amount of blood, along with the tracks you've left...well, I'm sure I can easily collect after a short period.
[With a motion of his hand, the butterfly dissolves into blue light - and when Holmes looks at him again, the face he's wearing is entirely different to the one he's had all this time - along with the voice he's now using, also seeming a bit taller than he was before.
The only thing staying the same are those blue eyes, still piercing as ever.]
It was close to the time for me to stage a death and gain a new identity, anyway.
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Why am I not surprised to know you are an old hand at insurance fraud? Hm, honestly avoiding them now would likely be enough... they lack any sort of self-restraint, and will quite likely be on the business end of a stake soon enough.
[Though his lips pursed in a slight frown at that, knowing their habits, blinking as Moriarty's appearance changes]
Quite handy.
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[Still, he laughs - clearly teasing.]
Well then - if they'll self destruct, then all we'll need to do is lay low for a bit. I hear Japan is nice this time of year - I assume you've never been?
[But at the comment about his appearance, he nods.]
The final trick I've learned - I was actually quite surprised when I managed to do this. It seems my magical 'talent' seems to be focused on illusion and
information gathering - not that it's something I'm going to complain
about, of course.
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[He points out with a laugh of his own, there's still a little fragility to it, but it's not as brittle as before, as he takes a stick, stirring some of the wood debris to stoke the fire]
I've been there once, near the end of the Meiji era - something about him filling a promise he made centuries ago.
[His eyes flicked towards the flames]
Not much time for myself then.
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[he gives a quick laugh, before nodding.]
Well - now you have all the time in the world. You can do whatever you would like to do, instead of what he wishes for you to do.
...You're a free man, Holmes. And that is how you should always be.
[He stares at the fire himself, eyes-half lidded.]
Foolish man thought that I would be happy, seeing you cowed. Instead, it all but signed his death warrant.
[That anger roils up again - not as intense, but rankling, still seething.]
Why on earth would he assume I would be happy seeing the one man who ever outsmarted me as a meek slave?
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Where to even start? A little at a time, I suppose, satisfy my curiosity that was denied.
[Sherlock was musing out loud, his long, pale fingers brushing the dried blood off his face, listening as well. They were the closest to each other in wit and intelligence, few others could keep up with him as well as Moriarty, that was worthy of respect]
As I said, he thinks like a Medieval Prince, a Warlord. To him, the enemy is someone to be crushed under heel, not respected. More barbaric than the Turks he had made a forest out of.
[The smell was wretched, coming from the fire, but he could tolerate it, since the man is most sincerely dead]
And as you saw - he's a natural sadist.
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A surprise, that he lived so long, yet paid no attention to how history repeated itself, over and over.
[He shrugs, quietly.]
A natural Sadist, indeed. But - you needn't talk of him in the present tense, Holmes. He is gone - we have made sure of it, on this night.
From now on, Dracula will only be spoken of in past tense - and I dare well say the world is better off for it.
...Though, I suppose I'm a bit insulted he thought me the same type of sadist. I may have driven and been the cause of many a man's death, but I've never taken the kind of pleasure from it that he clearly did.
[There's another pause, as he watches the fire.]
...If you wish, however, we needn't travel together. I could give you money, and then we'd part ways.
[Something...internally coiled in him at that, but it had to be said.
He didn't want to keep the man under his thumb - oh, to spy on and torment him, yes, but not beholden to him, or keep him like a servant.
After this, it was the last thing he wanted.]
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...I know, you never were the sort to inflict unneeded cruelty.
[Not like Milverton, not like Dracula]
If I recalled correctly, you came down hard on your associates who did so.
[Partly because such cruel sport left more evidence than a clean job, but again, Moriarty had shown a distaste for sadism]
As for what I wish, maybe I'll take you up on it, I need to find my bearings first, and... much as they'll self-destruct, they'll do so in an orgy of blood.
[It was quiet, but firm - he didn't need to spell out what he intends to do next]
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[He gives a small grin, again.]
After all, I even gave you multiple warnings, didn't I? Ones you ignored, of course, but warnings all the same.
[He falls silent, listening to Sherlock's firm assertion - and then, he nods.]
Of course. If that's what you wish to do, then I won't stop you. Wiping out all traces of Dracula's ilk seems much like a good idea, anyway.
[...]
...Though, perhaps having a partner in crime might be a good idea...?
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You did break into my flat, how else was I suppose to respond, Moriarty?
[There was the faint, impish smile, almost hidden by his clasping hands, eyes narrowing in almost a mischievous glint, though slowly, quietly the impishness fixes itself to one of surprise as the man offered to help. Especially when he realized he felt relief]
...It would not be a terrible idea.