When The Improbable Is True, Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Meeting Moriarty





Things were tense at 221b. Sherlock wanted to continue discussing the practicality of John changing him, but the vampire was always quick to change the subject. They were watching a movie when the argument began again. To John’s relief Sherlock’s phone rang a few minutes in with a call from Lestrade asking them to come to a crime scene.



Lestrade was leading them through the halls of an apartment building talking to John, “I think some of the cases I could not get Sherlock to look at were linked. The abduction cases and some of the murders.”

“I did look at them and they weren’t.” the detective interrupted, “The victims were of different ages, races, religion, and social class. There were no connections.”

“None you would recognize.” Lestrade said as they reached an apartment roped off by police tape

John was hit by the stench of goat before he walked through the door, and it was so strong he was sure Sherlock could smell it too. Sure enough the detective’s nose wrinkled as he looked around. “There are course animal hairs throughout the flat, suggesting the man who lived here worked at a barn. The are in the couch, his bed everywhere.” He knelt down and picked one up, “The hairs are clean, which suggests he takes better care of the animals' hygiene than his own, because he allows this much to remain in his flat.” Sherlock strode to the fridge, “He is a vegan, not uncommon among people who work close with animals, and is fond of drink. How ever he does not own any wine gla-”

He stopped talking suddenly when he noticed the vampire and hell hound exchanging amused looks, “What?”

“He did not work with animals, he was a teacher.” Lestrade supplied, “I actually wanted John’s insight on this case.”

“It is incredible how you deduced and rationalize what you see, but you are dead wrong,” John said smiling, “Well, he was a vegan. He wasn’t a human, Sherlock, he was a satyr.”

“Oh.” Sherlock said and he seemed to shrink a little. “And I take it the cases you believed are linked are linked because they concern monsters.”

Lestrade nodded and something clicked in John’s mind, “Mike was telling me the other day that Irene Adler went missing!”

Sherlock looked lost, “Mike and Irene are monsters too?”

“Yeah, a cupid and siren.”

Sherlock pouted, and John was sure he was upset he could not deduce things. He had started educating Sherlock on monsters and which were real, but they were not very far.



They were walking home when John’s phone rang. Sure it was Lestrade with more details on the satyr's disappearance he picked it up with out checking the caller ID. “Yeah?”

A sing-song giggling voice asked, “Did you loose something, Doctor Watson?” before hanging up. John stared at his phone uneasily, he was sure he recognized that voice.

“Who was it?”

“Just a prank call,” John muttered shoving the phone back into his pocket.



When he arrived home he could tell something was wrong. It was was not like when he had found the hunters, the flat was in perfect condition. John cautiously entered it, and Sherlock tilted his head to ask what was wrong. The vampire frowned and shook his head before rounding the corner into the kitchen. He froze in the door way staring at something and barely felt the detective collide with him, nor the man catching his falling form as he fainted.



When John regained consciousness he found Sherlock hovering over him.
He dreaded looking up, half hoping he had imagined it. Eventually when the vampire turned his head he saw that note attached to the wall with a fang was real. Not bothering to read at the paper he yanked the fang out of the wall and smelled it before charging out of the flat. Sherlock grabbed the note before perusing him.



For the first time ever it was the detective who was falling behind. John ran down alleys and across bridges following the scent of his sister, clutching her fang so hard his palm was damp with his own blood. It lead him to an abandoned factory with its doors thrown open. It was obviously a trap but John did not care.

On the floor was Harry. She was chained by her wrists and ankles, and as they got closer they could see she was hyperventilating. The bonds must have been made of iron, because the skin around it was covered in angry red burns. The woman’s head was bowed and eyes closed, her face tear stained.

John was shaking with fury. Any metal could have held her, but iron was the only one that could burn. He was so angry he barely flinched when the doors they had entered through slammed shut.

At the noise Harry looked up, eyes wild. She hissed, baring her single fang at something behind John. The vampire turned to see a man with his hand resting on the side of a massive black dog, one of the largest hell hounds he had ever seen.

“So glad you two could make it. If you do not do as I say Sebastian here will kill her.” The man said patting the dog, which growled. The stranger was well dressed and had his dark hair slicked back. After letting his threat resonate for a moment he smiled, his eyes sparkling with mania, “Not that letting her go will do much good, we took care of her human pet the other day. Death may be kinder.”

John was shaking with rage, “What do you want.”

“I am a collector John. Ever since I was little I believed in magic. And I never stopped,” the man began pacing, “I was called insane, institutionalized. Now I have got monsters to prove it. I haven’t found a vampire I have like though, and I thought, why not make my own? Then I found Sherlock, who was perfect. A genius, an man who matched my intellect. Be a dear John, turn him for me.”

“And what if I say no?”

“Well, she will die, and then I will ask again. If you insist on nobility you will die. I am sure I could find any vamp to bite him, but I thought I would be nice. Bite him and I will let your sister go. I will keep you two together, I promise you will be comfortable. I don’t care what you two get up to, reading, fucking, golfing, what ever.”

John’s mind was racing, and the man he believed was Moriarty continued, “I do not think you two appreciate all the work I put in leading up to this day. Tracking down Aldric to learn about your past, finding some one to astrally project, hiring hunters, and providing offerings to Eurus. I must thank you John for moving in.”

Sherlock walked up to John and spoke in a shaking voice, “It is alright John, do it.”

Fear was irradiating off Sherlock, the vampire could practically feel it. John shook his head and was suddenly grateful he had not claimed him, “No. Sherlock, I love you. This version of you. I would rather die than hurt you.”

“But I am not allowed to do the same? I can not live knowing I got you and your sister killed, waiting for some stranger to bite me.”

“This is all very sweet,” Moriarty drawled, “but could you hurry up?”

Sebastian started towards Harry. Suddenly a large streak of silver flashed past Sherlock and John. The hound tacked Seb, and John watched them fight, dumbfounded.

“Thats Lestrade.” He informed Sherlock as they watched the dogs. Sebastian was younger and more fit, but it was clear the grey hound had more experience.

The clink of metal reminded John of his sister and he ran to her. He grabbed her chains, only to releasing them hissing in pain. Sherlock wanted to help, it was clear Harry was feral. John held her head so she could not bite Sherlock as he carefully untangled the chains she had wrapped around herself. However he could do nothing about the cuffs.

Over the sounds of fighting dogs, men could be heard yelling outside. John looked up and could not see Moriarty any where. He was scanning the room when yelp drew his attention in time for him to see Greg fall to the ground.

Seb growled at John, but the sound was cut off as the door was blown off is hinges. The hound turned towards the commotion to see a group of armed people being directed by Mycroft. Sebastian snarled and charged, and they opened fire.

The black hell hound lay dead on the floor and Mycroft strode toward them, “Gregory told me you two...” His speech faltered as he saw the silver dog covered in blood, “is....is that him?”

John nodded as he restrained Harry so the woman approaching with bolt cutters could do her thing. Once she was freed John got a good grip on her bicep and lead her through the building followed by two of Mycroft’s people. He locked her in a dark bathroom and left them as guards before returning to the Holmes brothers. She needed time to cool down, and Lestrade needed urgent attention.

John found Mycroft with a hand on the dog’s greying muzzle and another holding his jacket on a cut over the hound’s eye. He looked up in desperation, “Heal him.”

“I will try.”

“No, you said your saliva had healing properties!”

“Look at his injuries! Broken bones, bruised muscles, and puncture wounds! My saliva’s medicinal effect is limited to topical healing!” at the outburst Mycroft looked defeated and John softened his voice, “Call an ambulance.” before gently opening the hound’s mouth. John searched along his gum until he found words inscribed in an ancient language. He read them aloud and Lestrade shrank back to human form.



When the EMTs arrived to attended to Lestrade John stole a shock blanket from the ambulance and ran to where his sister was hidden. He opened the door to find her bent over licking her wounds. Talking comfortingly he draped the blanket over her shoulder and checked her guns. He was happy to see she had sheathed her remaining fang and the place where her other one had once been seemed to have healed over.

A new layer of delicate skin had appeared at the sight of her injuries, but John was still cautious when he took her arm and lead her to the ambulance. Mycroft instructed that the ambulance drive to 221b before huddling over his boyfriend’s prone figure. John sat with a comforting but firm hand on Harry’s back and the detective sat next to him.

“Moriarty is still out there.” Sherlock said after a few minutes of silence. “I searched the building, there is no evidence of how he escaped or where he went. Though I suppose due to the recent revelation of my ignorance, I could have missed something.” The detective sighed and glanced at Mycroft. “I grudgingly admit we will need to work with my brother on the case of Moriarty.”