Chapter 06

Sherlock sat in silence as John slowly walked out of the room.

Regaining his wits shortly afterwards, Sherlock grabbed his napkin to dry his face as he smiled weakly at the two remaining guests at the table

"My apologies, Dr. Reid, Lady Ashbury. Sometimes, my deductions can be inaccurate"

"Inaccurate? I believe the word you are looking for is unsuccessful, Detective." Jonathan replied mirthfully

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

"Come now. You do not need to be a master of deductive reasoning to see your vendetta against the young lady. Whatever your intentions were, the fact remains that your prejudiced deduction left you at fault."

"And what would you do in my circumstances?" Sherlock asked

"I do not know" Jonathan answered as he stood up from his seat and helped Elisabeth as well

"My only advice to you is, do not let pride affect your bond of trust. John is as loyal as he is brave but he values family above all. Ask John to reach me if you are ever in need and remember, Detective. Keep an open mind."

Jonathan left as Sherlock pondered his words. The servants arrived, filling their now empty table with the food he had ordered earlier.

Brought out of his musings, Sherlock grabbed his now damp napkin and tucked it into his shirt without care. Before raising his cutlery, Sherlock noticed a piece of paper peering out from under Jonathan's discarded napkin.

Sherlock lifted the cloth and found a note accompanied by an alarming number of large Bank Notes. The note read:

-

I hope this is enough to pay for dinner. If you need help, do not hesitate to reach out.

Perhaps we can become better acquainted under more cheerful circumstances.

Signed,

Jonathan Reid

-

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

"I know what you did"

Jonathan turned and saw Elisabeth giving him with a knowing looking. He did not attempt to hide his actions from her as he thoughts his actions were understandable.

Elisabeth, seemingly reading his thoughts, responded to his justifications.

"The reason we have been able to remain well established and cared for properly is the usefulness of money. You never know when you might need it so spending it so frivolously is ill-advised"

"I understand, my dear. I just needed to show Detective Holmes that my help would be generous, in whatever capacity. From his conversation with Blackwood, I felt a strong draw between them. I have no doubts that he will lead us to his puppet master."

"I trust your judgement, Jonathan but Inform me of your actions beforehand, at the very least"

"Of course. From now on, I promise"

As their small dispute settled, the atmosphere in the cabin returned to it's previous calm as their journey continued. Not another word passed between them but words were unnecessary as they enjoyed each other's company in silence.

After reaching the Ashbury Mansion, Elisabeth suddenly jumped on Jonathan and captured his lips, an unexpected but welcomed surprise. The kiss was filled passion as Elisabeth moved hungrily, tongue darting, flickering voraciously in an effort to scour every inch of Jonathan's mouth.

They parted a moment later to catch their breath as they looked at each other with eye's glazed.

Elisabeth smiled at Jonathan shared enthusiasm at her implied actions. Had Jonathan not been distracted, he would've pondered the need for them to catch their breath as they were undead but his thoughts were understandably occupied.

"Our celebration dinner was a disaster but we can't let our night end on a bad note, can we?" Elisabeth smirked as she moved away, leaving the enthralled Dr. Reid behind.

Sauntering up the stairs, Elisabeth added an extra sway to her body movements that created a sensual yet hypnotic rhythm.

Eyes glued to their target, Jonathan could not look away from Elisabeth. The red gown he had considered beautiful and noble earlier had now taken on a raunchy, more suggestive tone.

Each and every curve the gown highlighted was now a deadly weapon against his psyche, wielded skilfully but a notorious opponent.

Fully aware of her strengths and the undivided attention she held, Elisabeth flaunted her flawless figure with every action aimed at provoking the ever-calm, Jonathan's more animalistic nature. She smiled in success as she heard him struggle to control his breath.

Unable to hold back any longer, Jonathan ran up the stairs, using his supernatural speed and swept Elisabeth off her feet, surprising her. Perhaps her actions had been too successful?

Without wasting a second longer, he ran into master bedroom to enjoy the peak of tonight's events.

Neighbours of the Asbury Mansion had often speculated about the house's abandoned state over the past two years but that night, their questions answered as the owner's returned and greeted them with a long and sleepless night.

The incident became a legend as it provoked the chagrin of every men who heard it and envy of every women.

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

[Two Weeks Later]

It had taken awhile for Lord Blackwood to receive his retribution. His title of nobility and the influence from The House of Lords had delayed his inevitable end for the last two weeks.

There was no possibility of him walking away from the rope as the infamy of his actions coupled with the public opinion, who wanted blood ensured his demise.

There was no doubt in Jonathan's mind that if his actions had been lesser known, his sins would have been swept under the rug.

Although all plans were obsolete in the face of True strength, the truly powerful amongst mortals were those who held influence. The ability to shape a narrative and change reality as they saw fit was both impressive and terrifying, even for supernaturals.

These nobles had committed even more atrocious and evil acts but unlike Lord Blackwood, they had been smart and never got caught.

The day before Lord Blackwood's execution date, Jonathan visited his cell. From his research of the man, Henry Blackwood was intelligent by all accounts and his lack of reaction or resistance after his arrest and sentencing did not match the actions of someone facing the impending finality of death.

Curious, Jonathan looked into his time as a captive and found that Lord Blackwood had seemingly cursed the prison hold and incited mass hysteria in his fellow inmates.

Knowing Blackwood's true thoughts on the dark arts, Jonathan finally decided to visit him and confirm the rumours.

Upon arriving, Jonathan found the prison entrance in a frenzy. Thousands of Londoners lined the streets as half of them raised signs in protest to Lord Blackwood's continued existence.

Jonathan refused to comment on the lack of compassion and humanity in their actions since Lord Blackwood would deserve any punishment the court saw fit for a criminal of his calibre.

He just believed that it was in these moments that humanity was truly tested. Where there was only darkness and hurt, they would choose to rise above themselves and decide to sow hope and love instead of furthering the pain and suffering.

Of course, Jonathan was a hypocrite and believed that the only good enemy was a dead one but he was aware of his hypocrisy. He refused to comment on the grounds that he could not see himself turning the other cheek but he respected those who could. They were stronger than he could ever be.

Looking towards the streets, Jonathan was surprised to see John and Sherlock alight from their carriage. The events of that night, both good and bad, had left an unforgettable imprint on his memory.

Not wanting to be seen, Jonathan summoned [Shadow Mist] and followed Sherlock into the prison after he parted ways with John.

The cold walls and damp air of prison's interior matched well with stereotypes Jonathan had in mind. The lack of hygiene and proper air ventilation ensured that anyone who had the pleasure of staying here would never know a moment's peace.

Despite his location of his work and it's static nature of his occupation, the prison guard escorting Sherlock was a well built young man, unlike his peers. He stood at a mighty 6'4 but his dark shadows under his eyes and the crouched, tired posture he couldn't hide made him look small in comparison. 

Jonathan noted the quietness of the place. Apart from the rat's scuttling feet and the heart beat of a single human being, the other cells were dead quiet.

"It seems you have a lot of rooms to let" Sherlock asked the guide

Turning the corner, Jonathan finally saw why the room had been quiet. Each and cell had been opened and emptied. Apart from the one soul he heard, most likely Blackwood, the entire prison had been vacated.

"We had to move the prisoners, Sir. Otherwise we were going to have have a riot on our hands. He has a peculiar effect on the inmates, as though..." The guard replied ".... he can get inside their heads."

Stopping in place after speaking, the guard refused to move even as Sherlock walked past him. The amount of fear rolling off him in waves was potent.

Jonathan watched as the tiredness he had shown earlier vanish and instead, was replaced with anxiety.

Jonathan nodded, objectively praising Lord Blackwood for being able to achieve his goal despite his current circumstance. The amount of fear his mere presence could invoke in others was impressive. Even his own captors feared him which was no small feat.

Sherlock noticed the absence of his escort and looked back.

His eyes softened with understanding after seeing the fear in the guard's eyes. 

"I am sure I can find my own way if you have other duties to perform."

"Much obliged, Sir. Thank you, Sir" The guard thanked Sherlock profusely before disappearing quickly.

As Sherlock and Jonathan neared Blackwood's cell, Henry Blackwood's muttering was constant as he read from the Book of Revelations. The low tone of his voice quoting the Bible's apocalyptic prophecies accompanied by the quiet stillness of the abandoned prison created a dark and sombre atmosphere in the depths of the prison.

Undeterred, Sherlock approached Blackwood unceremoniously and interrupted his reading.

"I love what you've done with the place"

"So glad you could accept my invitation" Blackwood replied, unfazed by his words

"I just have a small point of concern." Sherlock announced

"How can I help?" Blackwood asked, curious

"I'd followed the murders with some interest and while my heart went out primarily to the families of the victims, I couldn't help but notice a criminal mastery in the stroke of your brush." 

"You're too kind" Blackwood accepted his praise, unashamedly

"However by comparison" Sherlock continued "Your work in the crypt was more akin to a finger painting"

Goaded by his backhanded compliment, Henry Blackwood finally moved for the first time since Sherlock's arrival and turned to him with a interested expression

"So now you're curious as to whether there is a larger game afoot"

"Either that or... shortly my friend will pronounce you dead and I thought I might keep him company." Sherlock replied, nonchalantly.

"Your mistake is to imagine that anything earthly has led to this moment. Your error of judgement is to assume that I am holding the brush at all. I am merely the channel"

Jonathan's ears perked up as he heard Henry Blackwood's words. To Sherlock, it might seem like a charming man's attempt at appearing enigmatic in the face of his death but for Jonathan, it was justification for all the hunches and feelings of discomfort he'd tried to ignore since returning to England.

Without a second thought, Jonathan divided into Henry Blackwood's mind and found that apart from his surface thoughts and feelings, he couldn't see much else.

This was a first for Jonathan as before this moment, he had never failed to acquire the information he sought.

Fascinated by the rare occurrence, Jonathan continued to pry and prod at multiple parts of Henry's mind to try and ascertain the name or even the face of his puppet master but all his attempts failed.

It was as though his face and name had been deleted from his mind.

"My only wish is that I had caught you sooner. You see, five lives would have been spared" Sherlock sighed with regret

"Mm, those lives were a necessity. Sacrifice. Five otherwise meaningless creatures called to serve a greater purpose"

Jonathan was disgusted by the amount of self assuredness and nonchalance in Blackwood's words. He had read his mind already and knew his feelings but hearing the words in person caused him to physically recoil.

Even as a Vampire, he understood that the blood he drank from his patrons enabled his existence and so he respected their lives and sacrifice.

"I wonder if they'd let Watson and me dissect your brain. After you're hanged, of course. I'd wager there's some deformity that would be scientifically significant" Sherlock commented, hiding his disdain behind his wit. "Then you too would serve a greater purpose" He added for good measure

Sherlock turned to light his pipe but as he lowered his head, Blackwood rushed towards him and leaned against the door. His face peered through the bars as he watched Sherlock, his eye's cold and calculating.

"Mr. Holmes, you must widen your gaze. I'm concerned you underestimate the magnitude of coming events.

You and I are bound together on a journey that will twist the very fabric of nature. Beneath your mask of logic, I sense a fragility... that worries me.

Steel your mind, Holmes. I need you."

Sherlock turned to Blackwood, shocked, as he recalled the words he'd heard from Jonathan. Surprised by the coincidence, he quickly schooled his thoughts for later before addressing Lord Blackwood.

"I say, you've come a long way from the House of Lords"

"And I will rise again"

"Bon Voyage"

"Pay Attention! Three more will die and there is nothing you can do to save them. You must accept that this is beyond your control or by the time that you realize that you made all this possible...

it'll be the last sane thought in your head."

Sherlock was obviously affected by Blackwood's parting words but a quick puff of his pipe and the hit of nicotine calmed him down enough for him look presentable. He left quickly after a quick glance back at Blackwood in farewell.

"What did he want?" Inspector Lestrade asked from the viewing deck on second floor of the prison.

"Not sure" Sherlock replied before looking up and speaking to the pastor beside Lestrade

"but I do not think you are needed, Father... Not for this one."