fic: "Stretching." Vampires and hunters. chapter 9

[ariadne_chan]

Title: Stretching
Author: ariadnechan
Characters for the fic 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: R
Betas: Fabulous friend mildred_bobbin You are awesome and I love you!

Summary for the Fic: 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.
You can read the chapter: Here in Ao3
Or go to Here all the Chapters in AO3
And Here in LJ to the Master post

Summary: Sometimes, a lifetime is not enough and love is larger than death.



Chapter Nine



'The Tiger, The Falcon & The Queen and King of the British Empire'







As the landscape became more and more rural, the falcon descended and a white tiger took his place, touring North West running faster than the mighty beast could ever achieve in nature. When he was closer to the most populated area, he resumed the Falcon form. Finally, John was before the estate outside Edinburgh that he knew to be of Clarisse.



Being so close and traveling in animal form for so many hours, John couldn’t stop himself entering as the falcon form . So he went directly to the house and into the balcony of the room he remembered as her bedchamber, all those many lifetimes ago.



And there she was, white as marble, as always seated on a divan reading, on an iPad now, instead of a scroll or a book, with her once long black hair now cut to shoulder length. Clarisse was alone, so he flew through the window and landed at the end of the divan.



“John, Darling. You could have called you know and told us you were coming. I’m going to send for Ian from the city discreetly.” She smiled and petted him and sent a Skype text to the Prince or The Ash, with her iPad.



“John, I will ask for something more suitable for you to wear. Wait for me in here a minute”. She petted him again and left the room.



John changed back and, making his backpack big again, changed into his jeans and striped jumper. Clarisse hadn’t changed one bit, except for the technology and her hairstyle, of course, but that was something to be expected considering her personality. The house looked old now; well three hundred years would do that to a house he supposed. Clarisse had it in really good condition and renovated from what John could see.



They had met on an assignment in France. The marks and the business ended fairly quickly and with time on his hands and good company they had made a tour of Europe before the queens and kings started to fall. He wasn’t much for glamour and parties, but Clarisse was different and they had great time in the most posh places. The food was good too, evil people in top society always tasted good.



And they had ended up at the end of the century in England. She bought the house and tried to convince him to stay, but he was called away on another assignment and really, she was a Ventrue, and they always settled and made fortunes and took governments or enterprises. John was not made for that, and he had his job, which could call for him at any time, for decades, if the assignment required it. She knew it, when she bought the house but they both let it slip until he was called again. John wasn’t good with relationships but maybe Clarisse was one of his better ones.



Clarisse came back with clothes and left them on a chair. She looked at John. “You have not changed a bit, dear, still no fashion sense at all, but you look great, otherwise. I have missed you.”



“Me too, Clarisse, and your hair, what did you do to it?” John asked with mock sadness.


“You need to change a little you know. Speaking of, here, change into a more suitable outfit before some of the help think you are a bum and call the police.” She smiled at him.



“I met him in the East, and I knew right away that Ian was yours. You always told me you liked taller men, also he has more fashion sense for sure. Is he good for you?” said John, while changing into a casual suit his measurements in different tones of blue, like one Sherlock would buy for him, if he had a say in John’s decisions about clothes. This last thought made him smirk.



“You know me too well, darling. I suppose, as I was the one who turned him, I looked for the one perfect for me of course, and he certainly is better than you,” she said with a smirk and a wink.



“No doubt about it, he is taller.” They laughed together a little and went to the study.



John asked her for her knowledge of werewolves clans, he needed to find a shamanic oriented one who was not opposed to working with a vampire for mutual benefit.



She left him studying the books and an organized and updated list and maps of the tribes and clans she kept on the werewolves of England, until Ian arrived.



Clarisse was really good at archiving and summarizing information into the core facts. He found that apparently the clan of the Druids wolves was no more, but there were the Fiannas and the Black Furies, the most important clans for his needs:



The Black Furies were the ones who took care of the saint Points of Power in Europe, and the Fiannas were the typically more British clan and more approachable folks. Black Furies were Amazons, a female werewolves’ only clan who were very non-approachable, less so by a vampire; but they were the ones who were in direct danger and would have a direct hand in the solution.



So he started with looking at the Fianna community near the London and Edinburgh area.



Clarisse joined him with some brandy and after realising what he was up to, started to make a map for him about the saint Points of Power in England and the most important ones in Europe on her laptop. John supposed by the end of the day, the map would be 3D and with a Google map attached to either point, knowing Clarisse as he knew her.



While John was getting acquainted with the faces and bios of the leaders and second in command of the Fianna communities, The Ash arrived.





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Central London, Mycroft’s Flat, 2009.




Since Mycroft had met Gregory Lestrade he had started to dream. At first he didn’t remember the dreams and dismissed the whole affair because dreams were not important.



But after they started to “Date? Relationship? Partnership?” -- Mycroft really didn’t need to name it, only on these instances, when thinking about it as a thing -- Mycroft started to dream more vividly and remember more and more, until one morning he found he could pinpoint the historical period accurately. This had really haunted him, because there was a difference between the English king Henry’s time and his daughter Elizabeth’s in the XVI century.



Then Mycroft understood that these dreams of his were in fact more close to memories and in several of them, Gregory was there. He looked really handsome in period clothes, he might add, in one dream he gifted him with earrings and he looked like some wild thing, a captain of the seas, and that’s why in the dream he gave him the duty of forming a secret Privateer armada.



Mycroft had started looking for historic information about his dreams and finally some days ago he put his hands in a painting; a painting of Gregory. Lord Gregory Lestrade, one court noble man, no much information about him, worked directly for the queen and apparently one of her favorites. So if Gregory was this man, then Mycroft was who exactly?



Mycroft was not a man to believe in the supernatural. Werewolves, fairies and vampires were not supernatural, because they were on earth even before humans, but ghosts, reincarnation? That really was not possible, not to him at least.



Mycroft had known for some time that the detective was a vampire; one without fangs, in disgrace and being punished by Moriarty, and clearly not a danger for his brother. Gregory was the appointed cleaner of the city, so far so obvious, but he was a good soul. How he had put himself on Moriarty’s bad side Mycroft didn’t know, but clearly his role concerning his brother was watching and protecting, he didn’t know if the first was by choice, but he knew the last one was.



Even though Mycroft knowing every bit of information of the DI, he knew, he still couldn’t stop falling for the man. He was handsome, funny, clever, wild, a man of knowledge, caring and passionate and even if he was a vampire and apparently an older one, he had his humanity almost intact and that was a miracle. Even Mycroft wondered if he had his humanity intact, even if he was in the said race himself.



So, here he was in front of his lover waiting for his answers.



“My, I don’t know how to start, and if you’ll ever forgive me, but I’m a… vampire.” The other man fell more than sat on the couch as he was waiting for a death sentence.



“The dramatics, doesn’t suit you, Lord Gregory Lestrade. I knew you were a vampire before I ever saw you in person. Carmenere? Pinot Noir?” Mycroft went to his liquor cabinet and took a bottle of Carmenere red wine and opened it, looking for glasses while waiting for the appropriate time for the wine to breath.



As the DI was still speechless, Mycroft gave him the glass, he took it, downing the wine in one go. Mycroft really preferred tasting it, Chilean wine was not as well known but had several international medals and Mycroft really liked the fruity taste of the Carmenere, it had an interesting peach aftertaste, and several unknown ‘floral’ bouquet. He wondered how the Chilean Syrah was, he had only purchased red wines from that country, but he had known they had an expanded variety even within the white spectrum. Certainly this was better than the popular and cheap Chinese ones which were so in vogue, but clearly there were some vintages that he preferred in their French variety, there was no question about that, whites were French. But he could always buy a Late Harvest, apparently Chile had good ones, they had some spirit derived from it, if he remembered correctly or was it a Chardonnay? Mycroft decided to make sure to call his Vintage importer this week.


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Greg was spiraling down. My had always known, what did he want from him now then? He looked at his lover, who was absorbed in the glass in his hand. Every other observer would think he was thinking about vintages and he would be right of course, but he was hiding behind that glass, waiting for him to say something. So Gregory couldn’t leave his lover drifting in wine vintages until he returned to world domination, because he would lose him there.



If he was not that desperate now he would find Mycroft’s mind escapes really cute. Greg didn’t need to read his mind to know what he was thinking right there. Greg wished he could read minds too, so he could be at least at the same level of intel on Moriarty, and not be in this constant blind fear, incapable of protecting the ones important to him. Greg knew now, because after all he couldn’t read minds, that his lover knew he was a vampire all along, and if Greg wasn’t so desperate, he would be laughing hard.



Greg tried to calm himself. “There is only one thing that you must understand; I never lied about my feelings about you. What do you want me to tell you Mycroft? Ask away?” Greg tried a smile, but he knew it was not as good and charming as he wanted it to be.



“How old are you? Is likely the most common question I imagine, but I tracked your existence to the XVI century so how much older, would be the better question? And you had me under surveillance too, or is only my brother, for your jailer, Moriarty.” Greg could see how Mycroft was pondering his answers while balancing his glass between his fingers



“As for the second question who is shorter? No, I only had Sherlock under surveillance because of my forced employer. But I took that ward also for myself because your brother is a magnet for trouble and it is really hard to keep him alive and well. And I hope for big things from him. I even hope that maybe sometime in the future he can liberate me.”



“About me, I was born in the XIII century as a human and vampire, so I’m 700 years old. I have been imprisoned by Moriarty less than one hundred years, where he has taken my freedom, then my canines off, my dignity, my ability to sire, several of my powers and my means to feed directly from humans.” Mycroft left the glass in the mantel, his hands were red and marked by his nails because of the anger building up inside him during the last part of Greg’s tale.



“Why were you punished by Moriarty and why you didn’t run or hide, and stay here to be fangless and become a simpler cleaner?” Greg could see how My tried to calm himself behind his business mask. In his mind he was thinking about how to kill Moriarty for sure, Greg needed to stop him when the time came, it was too dangerous.



Greg start speaking and decided not to stop for anything anymore.“I was the second in command of the Prince of London for more than half century, and the leader of my clan for one; but I was too young and naïve. I didn’t see Moriarty coming, and I was too involved in my personal romantic life and the political warfare of England in the human court at the time to see clearly. When I lost the love of my life I lost my purpose and my sight. I left everything and ran away to India for more than two centuries, when I came back, everything was lost I fought in the resistance to try to win back my clan and rid my country of Moriarty and then Moran, but to no avail. Finally he took me at the end of the XIX century. I asked for Elsie Holmes sometime before for help, but Moriarty was too strong and Elsie and her organization was too young. So I lost and here I am now. Why didn’t I hide? Because I always thought I could win my country back, but obviously I was mistaken.” My was pacing about the room until his ancestor was named and he was really anxious to know more.



“Also you will ask soon, so, yes I’m the Lord Lestrade who made the changes in the vampire politics and made Bruja and Malkavians one clan and Ventrue and Tremere another, and also I was pivotal in changing the new clan Bruja-Malkavian into the new leader of London and unintentionally causing our current peril. At the time Alastair was an old and very wise, even if eccentric, vampire leader of the Malkavians, how I was to know of the future and Moriarty’s betrayal and murdering?” My’s eyes were wide in wonder for the first time in the evening.



“So now you’ve got the culprit of everything. I am guilty of the existence and rise of Moriarty, because I made the beautiful palace and left it without guards for him to take because I was heartbroken; very intelligent on my part. And I stayed here because I deserved it and because I’m waiting for the chance to make things right.”



“I was waiting for it and then to simply die or fade until you appeared in my life for a second time.”



“The first time I met you, you had redder hair and were a very young, beautiful, intelligent thing, full of power and marvel, milk white skin, deep blue eyes and a voice that could raise and make fall empires, make and destroy me, and you did, both of them.”



“The second time, you were less young, but for me you are still too young and precious, you still are so intelligent and powerful, made of wonder, now you are more sarcastic than before and taller, just as passionate but you are wiser and stronger and I love you more than anything, even more than the first time. I don’t want to lose you again, and that’s why I was trying to protect you, but you always amaze me and now let me pray for the best because now that Moriarty knows I cannot protect you anymore from him.”



“I’m under your command my King. As you were my Queen once, as with me as you please.”
Greg kneeled in the old way before Mycroft and took a ring that was on a chain around his neck and offered to him.



Mycroft was amazed and without words as he took the ring from Gregory’s hands and saw that it was a big ruby and in the inner ring it said “To my Immortal Beloved Gregory from Eliza.” And after the name was the queen’s sigil. After reading the inscription Mycroft experienced a waking dream of him preparing the words, going through the castle in person to the master of gems and jewelry, to see the work done. And finally he remembered giving the ring to Lord Lestrade, after a passionate night, their tenth anniversary.



“I seriously was Her Majesty?” asked Mycroft, baffled still.



“Just like right now, you are the British Government,” said Gregory with a flirting smile.




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To be continued.....