Fic: A Study In Green (And Katanas)
Title: A Study In Green (And Katanas)
Fandom: Doctor Who/Sherlock Crossover
Series: The "Where In Time Is Carmen Sandiego?" 'verse
Author: phantomreviewer
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Madame Vastra/Jenny
Spoilers: (Shh...) A Good Man Goes To War- Doctor Who, set directly after the episode.
Warnings: None, unless alien crime-fighting lesbians offends you.
A/N: So I broke my cardinal rule of not writing fic in my revision period, but seriously, could you blame me? It's Madame Vastra and Sherlock in the same fic!
Summary: They're back in London, just not their London.
River takes them home, in the end.
Well, River returns them to London, to their house even. Unfortunately (and Vastra can understand how her head must be a-spin after everything that has happened) it's 123 years after they left.
Jenny is less understanding.
"So, Madame, what the heck do we do now?"
The words we wait for the Doctor are on the tip of her tongue when she catches sight of something in her peripheral vision. She half raises her gloved hand to pull down her hood to get a better look before she remembers this isn't her time stream and the humans are likely to have become less tolerant, rather than more. The Doctor's companions are the exceptions that confirm the rule.
They already stick out on the crowded -yet so comparatively clean- streets. Her in her hooded cape and Jenny in her male garb, although the collection of katanas strapped to her back might give more reason for alarm.
"We run Jenny."
Vastra could feel Jenny's warmth even through her gloves. She could always feel it.
She's not a hundred percent sure what it is that they are chasing after, but it looks interesting, and if there's one thing that can be said about Madame Vastra (apart from the obvious) is that she thrives on the interesting.
Interesting, and the bodies of the criminal classes.
No-one's perfect.
The more they run, the more it feels like being back at home. After wakening, London became her home, she couldn't go back to sleep -even if she could- for however long it was expected, not after tasting the air. And then had come Jenny.
The alleyway is badly-lit (and how little London has changed) and it is clear from the defensive attack stance whom is in the wrong and whom is in the right.
Two for justice, and one for ill. One to fight with, and one to kill.
It's served her faithfully before and it's a structure that she's happy to support.
Jenny is reaching for her katana when Vastra steps forward, throwing herself into the action was something she prided herself on.
Her tongue knocks out the thief, assailant, murderer? (She's sure she'll find out soon anyway) before she takes three steps further, the right-hook to the nearest mammal would have given it an escape route had she not stepped in.
The motion of stepping forward was enough to achieve their attention, even without her, party-piece.
The pulling down of her hood, shocked gasp and press of cold metal to her throat is not the normal response.
There's normally more screaming.
She's almost impressed.
"Don't you know it's impolite to do that to a lady?"
Rudely, it doesn't reply, not to her, just shouting what she assumes is the name of it's companion.
"I wouldn't do that Mister".
Jenny's always been good with a sword and now there's a katana resting against the throat of the taller mammal- this must be the Sherlock. Now she's looking she can tell it's male. They both are.
"Drop your gun and no-one gets hurt."
So it is a gun that's being pressed into the side of her throat. Humans always tried to be so original.
"I shan't think we'll be assisting intrepid crime solvers next time Jenny, at least Abberline was more flexible. As long as the job was done."
Jenny smiles, although it doesn't reach her eyes.
The man, Sherlock, doesn't loom too concerned about being held at sword point. She likes that in a human.
"Sherlock?! What's going on?"
It's satisfying to see Sherlock's frown, and even more satisfying to see Jenny tighten her hold on the katana's handle.
"I don't know, I don't have all the available data."
The male next to her deflates slightly, as if he expected him to have the answers.
"I was hoping you'd tell me it was a mask or something."
Both Vastra and Sherlock reply in sync with each other, and Vastra knows that Jenny is simultaneously grinning at her mistress and eyeing up Sherlock's jugular for the best point of impact.
"Don't be absurd John." "You believe me to be a mask, perhaps the humans really are devolving, no offense Jenny."
"None taken ma'am."
They're at a check mate, and she's about to suggest to Jenny that they just run, when Sherlock catches her eye. He's annoyed, that much is clear, but he's also interested.
And now she's interested. And she's sure Jenny won't object to a little fun before they have to go home.
"I think we ought to talk Miss?" "Madame, Madame Vastra."
She thinks about extending a hand, but they are simply to far apart for it to do anything other than hang limply between them.
"Madame Vastra, I think that you and your companion Jenny should return with us for a quick chat. Lestrade can deal with the kidnapper, I'm assuming he'll be out cold for hours yet, with the force of that blow."
Vastra nods briefly, but turns her attention back to the content of the question.
"And why would we do that exactly?"
Sherlock half shrugs, as if the blade at his neck is of no consequence.
"I have links in the heart of government."
Links with the Government mean links with Torchwood, and she knows how lucky and careful they had to be to avoid them back under Victoria. They were likely to have grown by now.
"Sheath it Jenny, as long as the man next to me does the same to his."
She sees Sherlock nod, and the metal is removed from her neck. The place it rested is cold. She shudders.
Jenny takes a step forward to her, roughly shoving her katana back into its sheath at her hip, and the other male, John, steps closer to Sherlock.
She flicks her hood back over her head, turning to Jenny to make sure she's fully hidden. When Jenny nods she squeezes her shoulder before turning back to Sherlock.
It's Jenny who speaks.
"Lead the way, gentlemen."
The house they're eventually led to is, small. Small and messy, and Vastra sees Jenny flinch.
Once a maidservant, always a maidservant. Such a stickler for cleanliness.
She decides on removing her cape, just for the look on the males faces. And it's reasonable warm in this flat.
The other male takes the katanas off Jenny.
They are promptly ignored by Sherlock, who is flicking through newspapers and booklets, and John looks at them awkwardly, until he catches Jenny's eye.
"Tea?"
Jenny nods, and gets to her feet, following him into what she supposes is their kitchen.
"I know how ma'am takes it, just milk for me."
If Sherlock is alarmed to look up from his studies to see the three of them sitting supping tea he doesn't show it.
This John, his reactions are so much more normal, more human.
Sherlock though.
She places her mug down on the only available free space she can easily access- the mantelpiece- and stands. Facing Sherlock.
"Now, Mister Sherlock. Why did you bring us here? For all you know we have business to attend to."
Sherlock rises his eyebrows, but now that they've started talking the smaller male seems to leap on the opportunity.
"More importantly, who have you invited back Sherlock? What are they? No offense ladies, but you can't be human. Are they aliens Sherlock? Am I inviting aliens to help themselves to my-" "-our-" "- dwindling tea supplies?"
Sherlock looks at the mug that Vastra put down.
"At least you didn't use the best China"
"Sherlock, you broke the best China-" Vastra frowns, and Jenny catches her eye and smiles. "- Look, don't change the topic Sherlock, do we have aliens sitting drinking our tea?"
Jenny puts her mug down with less finesse than Vastra, spilling it over onto what appears to be an order form of some kind, frowning.
"Of course they're not aliens John, they speak perfect English for one point. Even at the heart of Empire England never reached the stars. And Jenny here is certainly fully human."
Jenny nods, vindicated.
"But our Madame Vastra. She's something different, not alien, just, different. Homo reptilia if I'm correct."
It's a short, sharp nod that she returns, but the smile breaks out over Sherlock's face.
"The question is, what are you doing here?"
He looks positively delighted. The question appears to be rhetorical, but Vastra can see Jenny tsk, and assumes that it's meant for River and not her. At least this relative era of earth history is one popular for the Doctor. He'll appear, sooner or later.
"The last reports of your species were in the 1970s. You're not from then, there were no survivors of that colony-"
John glares at Sherlock, muttering about tact and common decency.
Sherlock waves a hand at him, obviously not wanting to be distracted mid-flow.
And if Vastra sinks back into her seat dejectedly, and if she covers her face in grief, other hand clasping at Jenny's hand pressed on her knee, no one mentions it.
"- And you're not from now. Your clothing, your way of speaking, they tell of the Victorian era. You spoke of crime solving and Abberline, the connection is easily bridged to Inspector Abberline of H division, placing you in London 1888, at least. You don't belong here. So, how are you here?"
Pushing aside the grief for her brothers and sisters, but not letting go of Jenny's hand, she leans forward.
The male knows so much, he might be useful, and his enquiries deserve some form of answer.
"Do you know of the man they call The Doctor?"
John, sitting beside her turns to Sherlock with a frown.
Sherlock's face explodes in what might be described as exuberant satisfaction.
"The Doctor. The lack of tangible evidence so far has made any attempted studies or tracing illogical. The inability to deduce without data, but, compatriots of the Doctor. Indeed, non-human, chronologically displaced compatriots of the Doctor. Why, this is perfect. Indeed only a matter of time. And who cares for time when one has an experiment to indulge in. John?"
John was looking between Sherlock and the clasped hands of Vastra and Jenny. Looking equally confused at both of them.
Well, perhaps people were becoming more tolerant in certain aspects of their lives.
He caught Sherlock's eye, whilst Jenny turned and frowned at Vastra.
"I believe, dear, that we shall be encroaching on these men's hospitality for some time. Their intent with the Doctor appears not to be ill, and if it is so, I think we can handle them. Don't you?"
She licked her lips for added emphasis.
Regardless of amusement, they were more likely to find the Doctor if they were in the vicinity of one who both appeared to be the companion of trouble and mischief, but was also actively searching for him.
And humans that didn't run screaming -even if they left the vague threat of Torchwood hanging- could only be a benefit in a London so far removed from their own.
Sherlock continued to speak, addressing John almost idly, although Vastra was sure that he had heard and understood the implications of what she had said.
"Answer the text that Lestrade is about to send me with with the phrase 'Iona blue seven, full stop, October 10th' and then go and talk to Mrs Hudson about a camp bed."
Jenny sat up straighter and removed her hand from Vastra's gloved one. She missed the warmth. Instead she watched Jenny gesture with her hands, the juxtaposition of which never failed to astound her. Hands that could clean and kill so easily; meek servant and dashing heroine.
"If are to be guests in your house, as I assume that we are, you must treat us, sirs, as rank dictates. Madame Vastra is a lady, she shall not sleep on the floor, no matter what her species may be."
Sherlock runs his hands through his hair, turning on his heel to look out of the window. As if he's expecting someone, something. A person in a blue box perhaps.
"No, no, of course not. John, set the camp bed up wherever you like, by the television would be a good place for you, easily accessible. You ladies will have no problem sharing living quarters, I presume-" is that a hint of a smile in his eyes? Mammals are so hard to understand. Jenny flushed. "- up the stairs, first door on the right. Leave the katanas where John can see them, he doesn't like unattended weaponry in the house."
Vastra nodded, pushing herself up from the edge of the sofa, and turning on her heel. The swish of her skirt caught against Jenny's boot. taking this as leave.
They had reached the door- no thought of turning down the stairs rather than up- when John recovered from his shock.
"You've just given my room away to an alien and her, her partner? Sherlock you can't do that sort of thing! At least ask me about it first."
Vastra heard Sherlock laugh.
"She's not an alien John, she's the key to the most exciting, dangerous adventure of our lives."
She felt Jenny's hand against the small of her back as they began to ascend the stairs.
Yes, Madame Vastra thrives on the interesting, and until the Doctor comes to return them, this will be mighty interesting enough.
Next in the series:
A Study In Blue (And Boxes)
A Study In Time (And Space)
A Study In Blood (And Smog)
The Adventure of the Homo Detectivia
Fandom: Doctor Who/Sherlock Crossover
Series: The "Where In Time Is Carmen Sandiego?" 'verse
Author: phantomreviewer
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Madame Vastra/Jenny
Spoilers: (Shh...) A Good Man Goes To War- Doctor Who, set directly after the episode.
Warnings: None, unless alien crime-fighting lesbians offends you.
A/N: So I broke my cardinal rule of not writing fic in my revision period, but seriously, could you blame me? It's Madame Vastra and Sherlock in the same fic!
Summary: They're back in London, just not their London.
River takes them home, in the end.
Well, River returns them to London, to their house even. Unfortunately (and Vastra can understand how her head must be a-spin after everything that has happened) it's 123 years after they left.
Jenny is less understanding.
"So, Madame, what the heck do we do now?"
The words we wait for the Doctor are on the tip of her tongue when she catches sight of something in her peripheral vision. She half raises her gloved hand to pull down her hood to get a better look before she remembers this isn't her time stream and the humans are likely to have become less tolerant, rather than more. The Doctor's companions are the exceptions that confirm the rule.
They already stick out on the crowded -yet so comparatively clean- streets. Her in her hooded cape and Jenny in her male garb, although the collection of katanas strapped to her back might give more reason for alarm.
"We run Jenny."
Vastra could feel Jenny's warmth even through her gloves. She could always feel it.
She's not a hundred percent sure what it is that they are chasing after, but it looks interesting, and if there's one thing that can be said about Madame Vastra (apart from the obvious) is that she thrives on the interesting.
Interesting, and the bodies of the criminal classes.
No-one's perfect.
The more they run, the more it feels like being back at home. After wakening, London became her home, she couldn't go back to sleep -even if she could- for however long it was expected, not after tasting the air. And then had come Jenny.
The alleyway is badly-lit (and how little London has changed) and it is clear from the defensive attack stance whom is in the wrong and whom is in the right.
Two for justice, and one for ill. One to fight with, and one to kill.
It's served her faithfully before and it's a structure that she's happy to support.
Jenny is reaching for her katana when Vastra steps forward, throwing herself into the action was something she prided herself on.
Her tongue knocks out the thief, assailant, murderer? (She's sure she'll find out soon anyway) before she takes three steps further, the right-hook to the nearest mammal would have given it an escape route had she not stepped in.
The motion of stepping forward was enough to achieve their attention, even without her, party-piece.
The pulling down of her hood, shocked gasp and press of cold metal to her throat is not the normal response.
There's normally more screaming.
She's almost impressed.
"Don't you know it's impolite to do that to a lady?"
Rudely, it doesn't reply, not to her, just shouting what she assumes is the name of it's companion.
"I wouldn't do that Mister".
Jenny's always been good with a sword and now there's a katana resting against the throat of the taller mammal- this must be the Sherlock. Now she's looking she can tell it's male. They both are.
"Drop your gun and no-one gets hurt."
So it is a gun that's being pressed into the side of her throat. Humans always tried to be so original.
"I shan't think we'll be assisting intrepid crime solvers next time Jenny, at least Abberline was more flexible. As long as the job was done."
Jenny smiles, although it doesn't reach her eyes.
The man, Sherlock, doesn't loom too concerned about being held at sword point. She likes that in a human.
"Sherlock?! What's going on?"
It's satisfying to see Sherlock's frown, and even more satisfying to see Jenny tighten her hold on the katana's handle.
"I don't know, I don't have all the available data."
The male next to her deflates slightly, as if he expected him to have the answers.
"I was hoping you'd tell me it was a mask or something."
Both Vastra and Sherlock reply in sync with each other, and Vastra knows that Jenny is simultaneously grinning at her mistress and eyeing up Sherlock's jugular for the best point of impact.
"Don't be absurd John." "You believe me to be a mask, perhaps the humans really are devolving, no offense Jenny."
"None taken ma'am."
They're at a check mate, and she's about to suggest to Jenny that they just run, when Sherlock catches her eye. He's annoyed, that much is clear, but he's also interested.
And now she's interested. And she's sure Jenny won't object to a little fun before they have to go home.
"I think we ought to talk Miss?" "Madame, Madame Vastra."
She thinks about extending a hand, but they are simply to far apart for it to do anything other than hang limply between them.
"Madame Vastra, I think that you and your companion Jenny should return with us for a quick chat. Lestrade can deal with the kidnapper, I'm assuming he'll be out cold for hours yet, with the force of that blow."
Vastra nods briefly, but turns her attention back to the content of the question.
"And why would we do that exactly?"
Sherlock half shrugs, as if the blade at his neck is of no consequence.
"I have links in the heart of government."
Links with the Government mean links with Torchwood, and she knows how lucky and careful they had to be to avoid them back under Victoria. They were likely to have grown by now.
"Sheath it Jenny, as long as the man next to me does the same to his."
She sees Sherlock nod, and the metal is removed from her neck. The place it rested is cold. She shudders.
Jenny takes a step forward to her, roughly shoving her katana back into its sheath at her hip, and the other male, John, steps closer to Sherlock.
She flicks her hood back over her head, turning to Jenny to make sure she's fully hidden. When Jenny nods she squeezes her shoulder before turning back to Sherlock.
It's Jenny who speaks.
"Lead the way, gentlemen."
The house they're eventually led to is, small. Small and messy, and Vastra sees Jenny flinch.
Once a maidservant, always a maidservant. Such a stickler for cleanliness.
She decides on removing her cape, just for the look on the males faces. And it's reasonable warm in this flat.
The other male takes the katanas off Jenny.
They are promptly ignored by Sherlock, who is flicking through newspapers and booklets, and John looks at them awkwardly, until he catches Jenny's eye.
"Tea?"
Jenny nods, and gets to her feet, following him into what she supposes is their kitchen.
"I know how ma'am takes it, just milk for me."
If Sherlock is alarmed to look up from his studies to see the three of them sitting supping tea he doesn't show it.
This John, his reactions are so much more normal, more human.
Sherlock though.
She places her mug down on the only available free space she can easily access- the mantelpiece- and stands. Facing Sherlock.
"Now, Mister Sherlock. Why did you bring us here? For all you know we have business to attend to."
Sherlock rises his eyebrows, but now that they've started talking the smaller male seems to leap on the opportunity.
"More importantly, who have you invited back Sherlock? What are they? No offense ladies, but you can't be human. Are they aliens Sherlock? Am I inviting aliens to help themselves to my-" "-our-" "- dwindling tea supplies?"
Sherlock looks at the mug that Vastra put down.
"At least you didn't use the best China"
"Sherlock, you broke the best China-" Vastra frowns, and Jenny catches her eye and smiles. "- Look, don't change the topic Sherlock, do we have aliens sitting drinking our tea?"
Jenny puts her mug down with less finesse than Vastra, spilling it over onto what appears to be an order form of some kind, frowning.
"Of course they're not aliens John, they speak perfect English for one point. Even at the heart of Empire England never reached the stars. And Jenny here is certainly fully human."
Jenny nods, vindicated.
"But our Madame Vastra. She's something different, not alien, just, different. Homo reptilia if I'm correct."
It's a short, sharp nod that she returns, but the smile breaks out over Sherlock's face.
"The question is, what are you doing here?"
He looks positively delighted. The question appears to be rhetorical, but Vastra can see Jenny tsk, and assumes that it's meant for River and not her. At least this relative era of earth history is one popular for the Doctor. He'll appear, sooner or later.
"The last reports of your species were in the 1970s. You're not from then, there were no survivors of that colony-"
John glares at Sherlock, muttering about tact and common decency.
Sherlock waves a hand at him, obviously not wanting to be distracted mid-flow.
And if Vastra sinks back into her seat dejectedly, and if she covers her face in grief, other hand clasping at Jenny's hand pressed on her knee, no one mentions it.
"- And you're not from now. Your clothing, your way of speaking, they tell of the Victorian era. You spoke of crime solving and Abberline, the connection is easily bridged to Inspector Abberline of H division, placing you in London 1888, at least. You don't belong here. So, how are you here?"
Pushing aside the grief for her brothers and sisters, but not letting go of Jenny's hand, she leans forward.
The male knows so much, he might be useful, and his enquiries deserve some form of answer.
"Do you know of the man they call The Doctor?"
John, sitting beside her turns to Sherlock with a frown.
Sherlock's face explodes in what might be described as exuberant satisfaction.
"The Doctor. The lack of tangible evidence so far has made any attempted studies or tracing illogical. The inability to deduce without data, but, compatriots of the Doctor. Indeed, non-human, chronologically displaced compatriots of the Doctor. Why, this is perfect. Indeed only a matter of time. And who cares for time when one has an experiment to indulge in. John?"
John was looking between Sherlock and the clasped hands of Vastra and Jenny. Looking equally confused at both of them.
Well, perhaps people were becoming more tolerant in certain aspects of their lives.
He caught Sherlock's eye, whilst Jenny turned and frowned at Vastra.
"I believe, dear, that we shall be encroaching on these men's hospitality for some time. Their intent with the Doctor appears not to be ill, and if it is so, I think we can handle them. Don't you?"
She licked her lips for added emphasis.
Regardless of amusement, they were more likely to find the Doctor if they were in the vicinity of one who both appeared to be the companion of trouble and mischief, but was also actively searching for him.
And humans that didn't run screaming -even if they left the vague threat of Torchwood hanging- could only be a benefit in a London so far removed from their own.
Sherlock continued to speak, addressing John almost idly, although Vastra was sure that he had heard and understood the implications of what she had said.
"Answer the text that Lestrade is about to send me with with the phrase 'Iona blue seven, full stop, October 10th' and then go and talk to Mrs Hudson about a camp bed."
Jenny sat up straighter and removed her hand from Vastra's gloved one. She missed the warmth. Instead she watched Jenny gesture with her hands, the juxtaposition of which never failed to astound her. Hands that could clean and kill so easily; meek servant and dashing heroine.
"If are to be guests in your house, as I assume that we are, you must treat us, sirs, as rank dictates. Madame Vastra is a lady, she shall not sleep on the floor, no matter what her species may be."
Sherlock runs his hands through his hair, turning on his heel to look out of the window. As if he's expecting someone, something. A person in a blue box perhaps.
"No, no, of course not. John, set the camp bed up wherever you like, by the television would be a good place for you, easily accessible. You ladies will have no problem sharing living quarters, I presume-" is that a hint of a smile in his eyes? Mammals are so hard to understand. Jenny flushed. "- up the stairs, first door on the right. Leave the katanas where John can see them, he doesn't like unattended weaponry in the house."
Vastra nodded, pushing herself up from the edge of the sofa, and turning on her heel. The swish of her skirt caught against Jenny's boot. taking this as leave.
They had reached the door- no thought of turning down the stairs rather than up- when John recovered from his shock.
"You've just given my room away to an alien and her, her partner? Sherlock you can't do that sort of thing! At least ask me about it first."
Vastra heard Sherlock laugh.
"She's not an alien John, she's the key to the most exciting, dangerous adventure of our lives."
She felt Jenny's hand against the small of her back as they began to ascend the stairs.
Yes, Madame Vastra thrives on the interesting, and until the Doctor comes to return them, this will be mighty interesting enough.
Next in the series:
A Study In Blue (And Boxes)
A Study In Time (And Space)
A Study In Blood (And Smog)
The Adventure of the Homo Detectivia