fic: "Stretching" chapter 3, vampires & hunters au.

[ariadne_chan]

Title: Stretching (part 3 of?)
Author: ariadnechan
Characters John/Sherlock, John/OCS; Irene/Moriarty, Irene/Kate, Irene/OC, Mycroft/OC, Mycroft/ Lestrade, Elsie(OC)/Holmeses, Moriarty/Elsie Holmes and Sherlock Holmes one sided, Moriarty/Sebastian Moran, Moriarty/OCs.
Fandom: Sherlock BBC fusion with Vampire: the Masquerade; some Bram Stoker’s Dracula; and my own vampire world.
Rating fic: R/ Chapter: PG-13
Warnings for the chapter: Spoilers for The Study in Pink, but had a lot of changes; some 16th century history changed by the Mirror World: Elizabeth the First, The East India company, and The emergence of the Privateers.
Disclaimers: Most of this is not mine. Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, Wizard of the Coast and Bram Stoker contributed a lot. I just put it in a shaker with my love and some of my own vampire creation and voila!

General Summary: The Holmes family had being hunting the rogue vampire, Moriarty, for centuries. Little by little he had been taking the world into his web but now the Vampire Council has sent "The Sword and The Healer" to resolve the situation. Meanwhile, London was rearranging itself to receive a new wild card, Sherlock Holmes.
Chapter Summary: Who is really Gregory Lestrade? How can ASIP can be twisted if you put some Werewolves, a couple of Vampires and Hunter consultive detective in it?
Betas: My wonderful and fabulous friends mojoflower and mildred_bobbin You are awesome and I love you both!
You can read This chapter at: You can read it on AO3 too

Or You can start for the prologue: Looking in the Master post in LJ you can read it on AO3 too




Chapter Three:

'Knowing me, Knowing you...Through a Scarlet Mirror.'




'Your Power Blind My Eyes, But Warm my Heart'


London, NSY. 2003.


Gregory Lestrade ex-leader of the clan Bruja was now reduced to nothing more than a babysitter. He, who had been responsible for bringing the Malkavian-Bruja clan to rule over London, was now in charge of keeping an eye on the current evil Malkavian prince's love interest, Sherlock Holmes.


Gregory wondered when, exactly, had he changed from being the lover of Elizabeth the First of England, to a simple DI of NSY in the service of a madman, James Moriarty.


It is true that it was never his idea to take the Ventrues out of the picture for good, but at the time it seemed like a good idea; the Bruja clan was always the muscle, the bodyguards, and he’d wanted more for his kin.


Maybe it had more to do with his being in love with Elizabeth. Too occupied in the court and organizing Her Majesty’s Privateers, to really see what was happening in the Mirror world.


He had been young and reckless and wanted everything and wanted it right at that moment. The young Malkavian's speeches sounded good to the oppressed Bruja's ears then, and to the leader of the Malkavians, the good naive Alastor, who thought the same. When Moriarty burned Alastor alive one century later no one saw it coming.


Moriarty wasn't as powerful then as he is now, no one opposed to him fought too much against him, and really, the majority didn't care at the time. When they really understood what it meant to have Moriarty as a Prince and the leader of their clans, it was too late. By then he was so powerful that to be opposed to him now implied a death wish, or worse. Vampires had never feared worse until then.


Gregory fell from his pedestal when Elizabeth died. He was so devastated that he went to work for the East India Trading Company for a century and a half. When he came back the last year of the XVII century, and saw how everything had turned out it was too late. He stayed, he did, because he loved England and he thought that he could do more for his people, there, than if he was abroad. Sebastian Moran an ex-pirate was the one in charge of his clan now, he was the right arm of the Prince.


But Moran had a lot of work to do for the Prince’s criminal organization in Europe so it was not so difficult for Gregory to regain his leadership again for a couple of centuries. Trying to save his people was the thing which lead Gregory right to this point in time.


How much Lestrade despised Moriarty nobody knew, except perhaps the Holmeses and Moriarty himself, but apparently this knowledge amused the prince to no end. The wicked bloody bastard had the ability to Scan minds after all.


All the same, Moriarty wouldn’t stand for insubordination and Lestrade was tortured for a couple of decades and finally sentenced to lose his fangs and his progeny. He would have more difficulty feeding from now on and he would be alone, because he would be unable to sire anymore.


Moriarty then forced him to occupy a human position as a Yarder, an agent, a cleaner for Vampires in the human world. Fortunately for him, blood in bags was a real option in the second half of the twentieth century and he could fake being human very well: he was old enough.


He had taken some human lovers through the years, but no one really to his liking. He was afraid to be attached as he couldn't sire anymore. If this wasn't more evil than death, to be the jester of the mad Prince, he didn't know what could be. Moriarty had Greg under heavy surveillance, so he had no chance to escape.


Then Moriarty came to him with a side job. Lestrade knew about the Holmes family and Elsie Holmes. He had tried to reach the Hunter Association for help against the Prince before, during the last of the XIX century, before he and his renegades were cut down by Moriarty. Elsie was a legend even alive, and so beautiful, he saw her a couple of times: she was white as marble, perfect heart shaped lips and a cascade of ebony black curls, but her eyes were the most amazing thing about her. He was a little besotted himself with her beauty, her intelligence, strong will and the force of nature that was this woman’s personality. No doubt every vampire in existence had his eyes on her, Moriarty wanted her more, but he was never able to win her. She was brilliant and perhaps the daughter of the goddess Diana, because it was totally impossible to get her or outwit her. And when she finally died she had made the hunters and the Holmes family unreachable too.


Lestrade never thought he would see someone like her again, less so Elsie Holmes apparently split and living in two bodies. But allow some time for the genetic pool and souls to rearrange themselves and there the trick was done in front of him, his new ward, the youngest of the Holmes and one half of Elsie Holmes reincarnated.


Sherlock was a vivid copy of the beautiful Elsie, only the gender and Sherlock’s extraordinary cheekbones, sharp where Elsie’s face had been a soft and gentle oval, were different. He embodied the brilliance and the force of nature he remembered. But the strong will, the master planner Elsie had epitomised, was not present at all in this young and brilliant addict-detective to be, it was in the man who came to bail him free later on, the brother, Mycroft Holmes.


As Lestrade came to know Mycroft Holmes over time, he found he was more like his Elizabeth than Elsie, Gregory was absolutely fucked up. He had fallen, not only for a Holmes, but THE Holmes, the one who was the leader of the Hunter Association, who was escalating the British human government. Yes he was in love with Elizabeth all over again, but it was in the form of a really handsome, powerful man who had England at the mercy of his umbrella.


Protecting the young genius was double agent work now. Moriarty had tasked him with the job and he had accepted because Moriarty 'had him by the horns, or the tooth', so he had to watch Sherlock, but he knew that the evil prince had nothing good in the future for the lad. But now Mycroft who didn’t know he was a vampire asked him for the same thing. What was Gregory supposed to do now? Take care of the brilliant mad junky kid of course; if Sherlock wanted to be a private detective he needed to be sober.


Mycroft Holmes was out of his reach because he was a hunter, and a formidable enemy of his owner Moriarty. What was he thinking, falling in love with Mycroft!? ‘Forget about him Greg,’ he tried to tell himself through the nights that followed but without success.


Greg knew that the Holmeses were the enemy of Moriarty, his evil incarcerator, but if Mycroft Holmes was who Gregory thought he was, maybe he would be free sooner than he expected, maybe he could make a move...or he could die sooner. To do his job maybe was the best alternative for the moment.


Lestrade thought if this man had Elizabeth's soul, if his true love was really inside of him, then Mycroft will recognize him one of these days. Or maybe never. Hell even if he was only half of Elsie Holmes he wanted him. Either way a little flirting wouldn't do any more damage to his situation, and maybe...maybe.


Gregory laughed that night while sipping his blood bag, because destiny was a bitch.


*********************************************************************



London, Lauriston Gardens, 6 years later.



Gregory was waiting for Sherlock again. They could not make heads or tails of the case, and clearly there were not only humans involved in it.


The Met thought it was some kind of poison self-administrated by the victims, so suicide. Lestrade knew better, but the Mirror world had its rules, and this victim had left a note, a bloody note. Lestrade needed Sherlock to find the culprit behind these killings and then he needed to do some cleaning, depending on the outcome.


This had his Prince’s signature all over it, like the side games he was so fond of playing. There must be someone else to blame, the one actually killing these people. His boss never left any traces that led back to him directly, but lately he was getting bolder, and as a cleaner, this was making Lestrade’s life a misery.


What Lestrade never expected to hear was that Sally Donovan was happy to see Holmes and that he was bringing a special colleague too. When he reached the first floor he saw the same old Sherlock and close behind him a short man, with a charming smile, with something so familiar about him, something like déjà vu -- like someone you had seen before, a vampire? He recognised a strong force emanating from him. His mind started to look further for answers, but he felt foggy and dizzy for a moment...No, it was impossible -- this was only a human, nothing more. So Gregory shook his head trying to clear his mind and showed him the crime scene and promise to detain Anderson for five minutes for them.



*********************************************************************


John entered the house very amused by Sherlock and Anderson’s interaction, until he found himself in front of Sir Gregory Lestrade, clan Bruja, the lover of Elizabeth the First himself. What exactly could ‘He’ be doing posing as a human DI? Did he remember John?


John scanned his mind and found out about his fall from grace at Moriarty's hand and his assignment as babysitter to the precious Sherlock. Also he didn't remember John, per se, but he recognized him in some way as vampire maybe. He made himself more unassuming and blurred in his mind. And thank the gods, that did the trick. He really didn't want to make a memory surgery more recognizable for Moriarty. He was just starting his undercover assignment and to be recognised as a player right away would be bad indeed. Lestrade had a good soul, John really hoped they wouldn’t have to fight each other in battle.


After the door was closed he looked at the scene in front of him. There was a woman lying on her stomach on the floor, dressed all in scarlet, her hair was brunette and she had a scarlet coat, and pumps. Her right hand and the nails on it,, which had been long and well manicured, were broken and her fingers were bloody, because she had used them to carve some letters on the wooden floor.


She seemed young to John, maybe middle 30's, she had decent taste, even with that amount of scarlet on her; she was fashion coordinated. She made John remember a beautiful long scarlet dress of 1874 on a beautiful French vampire, but now days, the color was unusual, especially that much.


John focused on Sherlock and his beautiful mind at work in front of him, analysing every little detail on the woman's clothes, the state of her jewelry, the soil in her pumps, her fingers, the state of her pantyhoses. It was so fast, so dynamic and so full of brightness. Sherlock was fascinating to scan while deducing, how he accessed his mind for answers to the visuals, the little clues before him, the odours. John was more besotted by the minute.


"John, tell me, what do you see?" John had to come back down to earth.


The problem was that John saw too much. The woman there was not human; she was a werewolf. She had been shocked to death, by magical means, using silver which was poison to a shapeshifter. What should he say?


"The woman died by Asphyxiation with some kind of poison, it was not a drug. She died in the last five hours, there are no traces of physical struggle except for her nails which are damaged because she used them to carve the floor."


"Oh John, I see that you know something more, but our time is up, here comes Lestrade."


Sherlock explained to Lestrade about the woman, her career, her marriage, her side life as an adulterer and about the missing suitcase. The note, of course, was important too:

"Were\"


"Anderson thought it stood for beware, but I'm sure you will disagree," Lestrade prompted.


"You know he is an idiot, it had to do with the victim. So the suitcase is vital, but there was nothing here. Where is it?"


"There is no suitcase, Sherlock, never was." Sherlock left the room in a flash and ran to the staircase.


"Sherlock, you didn't tell me anything! Come back here or you know I will be coming for you!" Lestrade had lost his cool. His eyes were severe and he was almost crushing the bannister.


"I need the suitcase, because the killer made a mistake and you lot are too stupid to notice anything. See you Lestrade." Sherlock felt so alive and full of light with the challenge, that John didn't realise that he was leaving.


"Sherlock, I mean it, I will come and get you!" Lestrade sounded really pissed, so John took note to not make him angry just yet. Suddenly Lestrade seemed to recall what Sherlock had said and shouted after him, “What mistake?”


“Scarlet, red!” yelled Sherlock at Lestrade, eyes big and looking almost like he was about to jump from happiness.


Sherlock ran down the staircase with John behind him, trying to be human about it, but that was too slow, he had already left.


Afterwards Donovan gave him directions about where Sherlock was and recommended he try fishing as a hobby. John reinforced his order about being nice about Sherlock, because clearly it didn't work properly the first time; this woman had some character. And he left her to pursue Sherlock by sensory flow alone. Finally John found him in an alley where he was looking in the garbage.


Sherlock found the suitcase, which was as scarlet as everything the woman was wearing. Inside her wardrobe everything was similar in fashion in red tones. A real paper diary and no phone.


"John now, stop your act and tell me you see what I see?"


John was really worried at this point but Sherlock was unreadable, and he couldn’t dig further without leaving a print.


"I am not a brilliant detective, Sherlock, so please you have to explain to me what you are talking about?"


"Oh my god, I really must explain it to you. Well you are not only an army captain and a doctor. You are a doctor for the Hunter Association, not the one here but in the war?" It was not really a question.


John could never have been happier for being misread, and for the brilliance of this man. He figured out that John knew more about the crime scene, and the way he found out. So he thought the obvious: not Mirror world as a possible answer, but the Hunter Association.


"You are amazing, you know that!" John couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful being across from him.


"You say that, like I really...thanks, I suppose is the thing to say," Sherlock was flushed and looked more beautiful to John, if that was possible.


John took some air he didn't need and continued. "This conversation must continue in another place, but you are right, I was recruited abroad, so I have no registration here. So I think you are a Consultant Hunter?"


"I think this conversation is better had at home, come along."


"But what about the suitcase? It’s evidence for the police."


"John you are so...tediously moral. This will take time and we need to find the murderer."


John was feeling a little angry now.


Sherlock snapped, "Ok, ok, but we keep the diary until we find out more about the 'victim'." He was actually pouting a little and John wondered if Sherlock even noticed he was doing it.


John was not sure about that, but the compromise sounded good enough so he smiled at him, and Sherlock smiled in return.


Sherlock took the diary and put it in his pocket while he passed the suitcase to John. In the street there was a yarder approaching on a motorcycle. Sherlock was about to hit him with a little rock to call his attention, but John decided it was better the old fashion way; with a loud whistle.


The policeman stopped and Sherlock sent the suitcase flying to him.


"Here, it's evidence from the Lauriston Gardens case, we found it minutes ago there in the garbage in that alley. Deliver it to DI Lestrade with regards from Sherlock Holmes."


Before the yarder could say a word, a cab magically appeared from nowhere and they were running for it.




To be continued...