Challenge 201
Title: Strangers in the Night
Author: lilachigh
Rating: PG
Fandom: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer: Sherlock Holmes: Star Trek
Summary: Spike goes for his first drink in a pub after being turned and learns never to drink absinthe again.
Warnings: None that I can think of, except never drink absinthe with strangers!
Strangers in the Night by Lilachhigh
The alleyway leading up to The Lamb and Flag public house was dark with shadows cast by the buildings that crowded in on either side and thick with a London fog that swirled in ribbons, catching in deadly play at throats and lungs. Gas lights flared and hissed at the entrance from the main road, but did little to cut the gloom.
The vampire, newly turned and still revelling in his blood-letting, pushed his way through the wooden doors, his vision quite happily coping with the smokey interior. He hesitated for a second; it would do him no good to admit this was the first time he’d ever set foot in a public house. He didn’t even want a drink - just to say he’d done one of the things he’d promised his mother he never would!
He realised he had no idea exactly what he should order - his last drink before he’d met his Dark Princess had been a glass of sweet Madeira at Cecily’s party. He turned to leave - he could find blood anywhere now in these dark London streets and promptly stood on the feet of the man sitting in the corner, stumbled forward and sent his glass flying, spilling the drink across the wooden table top.
Dark eyes glared up at him.
“Sorry!” William - who had yet to run amok with the railroad spikes that would give him the name feared across all of Europe - found that old habits and manners died very hard. “Let me buy you another.”
The man ignored him, just raised a finger towards the publican, who miraculously saw him through the crowd and arrived moments later with two glasses containing a pale green liquid.
William struggled to find coins in his pocket, but the man just shook his head. “On the ‘ouse, Sir. Mr ‘olmes is my ‘onoured guest.”
“Sit down, vampire. You are causing other customers great problems in reaching the bar.”
William sank into a chair and took his first sip of absinthe. “You called me a vampire, Sir. How...how...aren’t you afraid?”
A man sitting at the next table turned to listen. His face had a greenish tinge, black eyebrows slanted across his forehead and a dark woollen hat was pulled right down over his ears, even though it was hot inside the pub.
“A vampire? Fascinating! May I enquire how you know? He seems like quite an ordinary looking speciman to me.”
Holmes raised his glass of absinthe and sipped abstractedly. This was the person he really desired to speak to. “Good quality clothes, if rather effeminate in style. The hands of a gentleman, probably writes - I can see ink on his finger. Not used to strong spirits - the absinthe has gone to his head immediately, you see. But blood around his mouth, drops on his shirt front and on his shoes. No sign of a wound so not his own. It tells me he drinks regularly but is probably newly turned as he is still a messy eater, rather as a small infant will be until he learns how to control himself. And his eyes, when he entered - for a split second they turned golden in colour and his face - ” he paused to choose a word - “wrinkled. Elementary, my dear sir.”
A black eyebrow lifted in approval. Then a moment of pure madness he would later regret caused him to add, “Can you place me, Sir, so easily?”
Sherlock Holmes took another sip of absinthe, noticing that the vampire had thrown back his whole glassful already. “You are - tricky. Your clothes tell me you have been travelling. And your rather odd complexion leads me to believe you have originated from a land far, far away. I would suggest you are a sailor, but your hands have never done manual work. You have an air of authority but not of command, so perhaps an officer on a ship?”
Mr Spock - who’d come in contact with an alien time travel device that had sent him and his companions back to the late 19th century London - frowned, then nodded. “Logical and accurate. I commend your powers of observation.”
Sherlock lifted his glass in reply. “I also observe that another vampire has entered our establishment.”
William was lifted bodily from his chair by a tall, broad-shouldered man, whom Sherlock had no problem in placing as Irish.
“You - outside - now! Dru’s waiting. I hope he hasn’t been bothering you gentlemen?”
Mr Spock shook his head and stood up as the two vampires left, the younger one arguing loudly that he’d been enjoying himself until Angel turned up. It was time to meet his colleagues and go home.
Sherlock gazed up at him. “You would be well advised to use the side door, Sir. Our young friend may be incapacitated by the alcohol, but his friend certainly isn’t.”
Mr Spock, who had no doubts about his ability to nerve pinch anyone who tried to eat him, nodded politely. “I have to find Dr.McCoy.”
Sherlock Holmes sighed. “I, too, am waiting for a doctor. Knowing the medical profession, I expect to wait for some time. I wish you a very good evening, Sir.”
Spock had reached the side door. He turned and gravely raised his had. “Live long and prosper.”
The great detective watched him leave. Yes, definitely a traveller from far away, he thought, contentedly.
ends
Author: lilachigh
Rating: PG
Fandom: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer: Sherlock Holmes: Star Trek
Summary: Spike goes for his first drink in a pub after being turned and learns never to drink absinthe again.
Warnings: None that I can think of, except never drink absinthe with strangers!
Strangers in the Night by Lilachhigh
The alleyway leading up to The Lamb and Flag public house was dark with shadows cast by the buildings that crowded in on either side and thick with a London fog that swirled in ribbons, catching in deadly play at throats and lungs. Gas lights flared and hissed at the entrance from the main road, but did little to cut the gloom.
The vampire, newly turned and still revelling in his blood-letting, pushed his way through the wooden doors, his vision quite happily coping with the smokey interior. He hesitated for a second; it would do him no good to admit this was the first time he’d ever set foot in a public house. He didn’t even want a drink - just to say he’d done one of the things he’d promised his mother he never would!
He realised he had no idea exactly what he should order - his last drink before he’d met his Dark Princess had been a glass of sweet Madeira at Cecily’s party. He turned to leave - he could find blood anywhere now in these dark London streets and promptly stood on the feet of the man sitting in the corner, stumbled forward and sent his glass flying, spilling the drink across the wooden table top.
Dark eyes glared up at him.
“Sorry!” William - who had yet to run amok with the railroad spikes that would give him the name feared across all of Europe - found that old habits and manners died very hard. “Let me buy you another.”
The man ignored him, just raised a finger towards the publican, who miraculously saw him through the crowd and arrived moments later with two glasses containing a pale green liquid.
William struggled to find coins in his pocket, but the man just shook his head. “On the ‘ouse, Sir. Mr ‘olmes is my ‘onoured guest.”
“Sit down, vampire. You are causing other customers great problems in reaching the bar.”
William sank into a chair and took his first sip of absinthe. “You called me a vampire, Sir. How...how...aren’t you afraid?”
A man sitting at the next table turned to listen. His face had a greenish tinge, black eyebrows slanted across his forehead and a dark woollen hat was pulled right down over his ears, even though it was hot inside the pub.
“A vampire? Fascinating! May I enquire how you know? He seems like quite an ordinary looking speciman to me.”
Holmes raised his glass of absinthe and sipped abstractedly. This was the person he really desired to speak to. “Good quality clothes, if rather effeminate in style. The hands of a gentleman, probably writes - I can see ink on his finger. Not used to strong spirits - the absinthe has gone to his head immediately, you see. But blood around his mouth, drops on his shirt front and on his shoes. No sign of a wound so not his own. It tells me he drinks regularly but is probably newly turned as he is still a messy eater, rather as a small infant will be until he learns how to control himself. And his eyes, when he entered - for a split second they turned golden in colour and his face - ” he paused to choose a word - “wrinkled. Elementary, my dear sir.”
A black eyebrow lifted in approval. Then a moment of pure madness he would later regret caused him to add, “Can you place me, Sir, so easily?”
Sherlock Holmes took another sip of absinthe, noticing that the vampire had thrown back his whole glassful already. “You are - tricky. Your clothes tell me you have been travelling. And your rather odd complexion leads me to believe you have originated from a land far, far away. I would suggest you are a sailor, but your hands have never done manual work. You have an air of authority but not of command, so perhaps an officer on a ship?”
Mr Spock - who’d come in contact with an alien time travel device that had sent him and his companions back to the late 19th century London - frowned, then nodded. “Logical and accurate. I commend your powers of observation.”
Sherlock lifted his glass in reply. “I also observe that another vampire has entered our establishment.”
William was lifted bodily from his chair by a tall, broad-shouldered man, whom Sherlock had no problem in placing as Irish.
“You - outside - now! Dru’s waiting. I hope he hasn’t been bothering you gentlemen?”
Mr Spock shook his head and stood up as the two vampires left, the younger one arguing loudly that he’d been enjoying himself until Angel turned up. It was time to meet his colleagues and go home.
Sherlock gazed up at him. “You would be well advised to use the side door, Sir. Our young friend may be incapacitated by the alcohol, but his friend certainly isn’t.”
Mr Spock, who had no doubts about his ability to nerve pinch anyone who tried to eat him, nodded politely. “I have to find Dr.McCoy.”
Sherlock Holmes sighed. “I, too, am waiting for a doctor. Knowing the medical profession, I expect to wait for some time. I wish you a very good evening, Sir.”
Spock had reached the side door. He turned and gravely raised his had. “Live long and prosper.”
The great detective watched him leave. Yes, definitely a traveller from far away, he thought, contentedly.
ends