31 August 2020: A Scandal In...
OK. So... This is absolutely not what I had planned to write tonight. I even had an outline. I knew the story, had it in mind for a few months... Then this plot bunny hopped up and when I tried patting it on the head and sending it away, it stubbornly refused to leave. When I did my best to ignore it and focus on the other story, it sat on my keyboard and stared me down. So, now I have this story to post tonight and an idea that can sit and stew until next year.
Squeaky wheel gets the grease. Pushy plot bunnies get posted. (sigh)
Title: A Scandal In...
Author: Beriaearwen
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Sherlock Holmes
Rating: Suitable for people over 13
Word Count: 1561
Notes: Just a little something that popped into my head and wouldn't go away. For the specific story referenced, look up “A Scandal In Bohemia”. Will need to polish it up at some point.
Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of Sherlock Holmes are the invention of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. All are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: The Halloween dress wasn't what either of them thought.
A Scandal In
By Beriaearwen
It was the perfect dress. It looked like something a noblewoman would wear. And it was going to be hers. Angel would love it.
Ethan chuckled quietly as he watched Ripper's slayer walk out with the noble woman's dress. She'd be helpless. He would have to send a thank you to the old stagehand who had given him so many of these costumes. He was making a fortune.
Unfortunately, both the buyer and the seller had made a mistake in their assumptions about the dress.
Yes, it was a costume, but not just a Halloween costume.
Yes, it was an antique and in the style of two hundred years prior, but it was only a century old.
Yes, there was a small mar on it that they assumed was from a tallow candle, adding authenticity to the outfit, but it was actually the result of greasepaint.
Yes, Ethan had placed a spell on it to turn the person inside into what it represented, but what it represented was not what he thought it would.
Ethan made one other mistake when the night before he sold the dress, he sold a very pale man a coat and a deerstalker hat.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
She put her all into the scream and then blinked in shock, her voice cutting off suddenly before the end of the scream. Looking around her, Irene couldn't figure out what had happened to the stage. She was most definitely not in the theater any longer.
Glancing down, she could see she was still in the costume, but this area was not like any she had seen.
Taking in the small creatures running around her and the other houses, they reminded her of some of the small towns in America, but that couldn't be right. She'd been on stage in New York. Also, the streetlights were not flickering as the gas lights always did and the carts? Wagons, she wasn't quite sure what, but they seemed to be transportation of some sort were completely foreign to her.
Looking around once more, she moved to the house and knocked on the door. She needed more information.
When there was no answer, she tried the knob and found it locked. Crouching she reached for a hairpin only to realize that even the lock was unlike anything she'd worked on before.
Blowing out a breath of frustration, she stood, straightened her dress and nodded. “Right. Information first.”
With that in mind, she made her way down the steps and started walking toward where the glow of the streetlights was slightly brighter.
She was making her way past another hord of small creatures when she spotted a newspaper box. It too looked strange, but the basic form was at least identifiable for her. Scanning the front page, she gasped.
She was more then 100 years in the future. More than that, it was Halloween which meant - she scanned the area again and took a deep breath, releasing it even as she felt determination fill her - which meant that ritual magic was most likely involved and the small creatures were children changed or possessed by their costumes. Which meant she was most likely not in her own body, even if she was in her own costume.
Something like this would require ritual magic. She didn't know much about it, but she would hopefully be able to find someone who did. If not,there were other options - finding a library or tricking the magic user into ending it themselves. Most people who thought they were clever weren't and, as she'd learned in London, everyone, even herself, had human foibles and failings.
She was almost to what looked to be a main street when a ghost rushed up to her calling her Buffy. Irene didn't even blink. Buffy was, in her time, a fairly common nickname. It was possible it was the fashion again now.
She listened to the young woman and let her direct them to where she wanted. It would save time in the long run, all Irene had to do was play dumb.
That worked as they added the soldier. She almost snorted at his predictable attitude toward women. The woman in the cat suit could really use some lessons on how to use her looks and brains better.
But then she caught sight of him. Technically of his hat, but it was enough to have her falling even more firmly behind her mask. She could only hope that he wouldn't recognize her in this body.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Sherlock walked down the street. There was a group of young people who seemed to be organizing.
“I say, Holmes. What exactly is going on here?” Watson inquired.
“Some sort of mass hallucination I expect,” he informed his friend and companion absently, his brow furrowing at the sight of the woman in the period costume. Lengthening his stride, he quickly caught up with them.
He maneuvered himself in front of the woman in question and finally managed to meet her eyes. He knew at that moment and breathed out her name, “Irene Adler.”
She offered him a mocking smile and a curtsy. “Sherlock Holmes.”
“I don't suppose you have a hand in this?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“This mass hallucination that everyone is suffering from.”
Her eyebrow twitched upward. For her, it was an expression of shock. “If it's a mass hallucination, then how sure are you that you are who you think you are?” she asked.
“I...” Sherlock stumbled to a halt and wanted to curse this woman. And maybe kiss her. She had been the only woman he had ever met who had left him like this. And the only one he had never been able to forget. “It doesn't really matter. For now I am who I believe I am and something needs to be done before the damage being inflicted on this town results in deaths.”
He watched Irene nod. “I suppose you're correct. Let me introduce you to Willow.” So saying, she called the scantily dressed young woman over to her. “Willow, allow me to introduce you to Sherlock Holmes, he would like to assist us in correcting this situation.”
Willow stared at the man wide-eyes. “S-s-sp-spike?” she squeaked out at a high pitch.
“Perhaps,” Irene stated, surprised the girl hadn't said anything about her own attitude. “But for now, he is Sherlock Holmes and is of the firm belief that this is some sort of mass hallucination brought about by... What was it? I don't believe you said.”
“Most likely some sort of chemical or drug released into the air, since as far as I can tell it happened suddenly. Being released in food or water would not account for such a sudden and universal outburst.”
Irene suppressed laughter at his ability to delude himself. Poor man would never survive and introduction to the supernatural. “Yes. He's not so foolish as to thing it might be something like ritual magic or chaos magic or, really any type of magic, since that doesn't exist.” Turning toward him once more she asked, “Correct?” She held up her hand before he could respond to that. “Regardless, Willow knows of someone who may be useful to us. Lead on, Willow,” she encouraged, meeting Willow's eyes. She had very deliberately, and subtly emphasized parts of her previous sentence. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Sherlock picked up on it, but given his complete and unshakable faith that magic didn't exist, he most likely thought she was teasing him, not giving Willow potential research topics.
When he stepped up and offered her his arm, Irene couldn't resist.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
The next morning, Buffy woke up and looked around her room. She still had some impressions and memories of the previous night. Giles had warned her that her being the Slayer may allow her to recall more than others and she would bet he was right.
Still, finding a sheaf of notes sitting on her desk in a handwriting not her own and addressed to her gave her pause. As she began to read them, she smiled. She may not be quite as intelligent as Irene, but these were definitely things she could use.
In a warehouse across town, Spike sat in a darkened room and pulled the smoke of his cigarette into his lungs as he stared at a book.
Dru was in another room, trying to recover from the chaos in her mind caused by last night. With any luck she would never find out what he had done, what had happened. He'd known Holmes was not all right, the seven percent solution and what not, but his deductive and planning skills would be handy in his plans - both short an long term.
One of his minions scuttled in and dropped off the morning newspapers. He shot them a glare and waited for them to leave.
As they did, he slipped a small picture from the back of the book he'd been reading and stared at it. Buffy Summers. He had caught her out, but she had beaten him the next time they met.
He ran a finger over the image. There may have been others and may be even more in the future, but to him, she would always be “The Slayer”.
End
Thank you mods for running this and everyone for contributing, commenting and liking. I enjoyed reading all the fics and coming up with ideas of my own. Here's to another great year.
Squeaky wheel gets the grease. Pushy plot bunnies get posted. (sigh)
Title: A Scandal In...
Author: Beriaearwen
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Sherlock Holmes
Rating: Suitable for people over 13
Word Count: 1561
Notes: Just a little something that popped into my head and wouldn't go away. For the specific story referenced, look up “A Scandal In Bohemia”. Will need to polish it up at some point.
Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of Sherlock Holmes are the invention of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. All are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: The Halloween dress wasn't what either of them thought.
A Scandal In
By Beriaearwen
It was the perfect dress. It looked like something a noblewoman would wear. And it was going to be hers. Angel would love it.
Ethan chuckled quietly as he watched Ripper's slayer walk out with the noble woman's dress. She'd be helpless. He would have to send a thank you to the old stagehand who had given him so many of these costumes. He was making a fortune.
Unfortunately, both the buyer and the seller had made a mistake in their assumptions about the dress.
Yes, it was a costume, but not just a Halloween costume.
Yes, it was an antique and in the style of two hundred years prior, but it was only a century old.
Yes, there was a small mar on it that they assumed was from a tallow candle, adding authenticity to the outfit, but it was actually the result of greasepaint.
Yes, Ethan had placed a spell on it to turn the person inside into what it represented, but what it represented was not what he thought it would.
Ethan made one other mistake when the night before he sold the dress, he sold a very pale man a coat and a deerstalker hat.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
She put her all into the scream and then blinked in shock, her voice cutting off suddenly before the end of the scream. Looking around her, Irene couldn't figure out what had happened to the stage. She was most definitely not in the theater any longer.
Glancing down, she could see she was still in the costume, but this area was not like any she had seen.
Taking in the small creatures running around her and the other houses, they reminded her of some of the small towns in America, but that couldn't be right. She'd been on stage in New York. Also, the streetlights were not flickering as the gas lights always did and the carts? Wagons, she wasn't quite sure what, but they seemed to be transportation of some sort were completely foreign to her.
Looking around once more, she moved to the house and knocked on the door. She needed more information.
When there was no answer, she tried the knob and found it locked. Crouching she reached for a hairpin only to realize that even the lock was unlike anything she'd worked on before.
Blowing out a breath of frustration, she stood, straightened her dress and nodded. “Right. Information first.”
With that in mind, she made her way down the steps and started walking toward where the glow of the streetlights was slightly brighter.
She was making her way past another hord of small creatures when she spotted a newspaper box. It too looked strange, but the basic form was at least identifiable for her. Scanning the front page, she gasped.
She was more then 100 years in the future. More than that, it was Halloween which meant - she scanned the area again and took a deep breath, releasing it even as she felt determination fill her - which meant that ritual magic was most likely involved and the small creatures were children changed or possessed by their costumes. Which meant she was most likely not in her own body, even if she was in her own costume.
Something like this would require ritual magic. She didn't know much about it, but she would hopefully be able to find someone who did. If not,there were other options - finding a library or tricking the magic user into ending it themselves. Most people who thought they were clever weren't and, as she'd learned in London, everyone, even herself, had human foibles and failings.
She was almost to what looked to be a main street when a ghost rushed up to her calling her Buffy. Irene didn't even blink. Buffy was, in her time, a fairly common nickname. It was possible it was the fashion again now.
She listened to the young woman and let her direct them to where she wanted. It would save time in the long run, all Irene had to do was play dumb.
That worked as they added the soldier. She almost snorted at his predictable attitude toward women. The woman in the cat suit could really use some lessons on how to use her looks and brains better.
But then she caught sight of him. Technically of his hat, but it was enough to have her falling even more firmly behind her mask. She could only hope that he wouldn't recognize her in this body.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Sherlock walked down the street. There was a group of young people who seemed to be organizing.
“I say, Holmes. What exactly is going on here?” Watson inquired.
“Some sort of mass hallucination I expect,” he informed his friend and companion absently, his brow furrowing at the sight of the woman in the period costume. Lengthening his stride, he quickly caught up with them.
He maneuvered himself in front of the woman in question and finally managed to meet her eyes. He knew at that moment and breathed out her name, “Irene Adler.”
She offered him a mocking smile and a curtsy. “Sherlock Holmes.”
“I don't suppose you have a hand in this?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“This mass hallucination that everyone is suffering from.”
Her eyebrow twitched upward. For her, it was an expression of shock. “If it's a mass hallucination, then how sure are you that you are who you think you are?” she asked.
“I...” Sherlock stumbled to a halt and wanted to curse this woman. And maybe kiss her. She had been the only woman he had ever met who had left him like this. And the only one he had never been able to forget. “It doesn't really matter. For now I am who I believe I am and something needs to be done before the damage being inflicted on this town results in deaths.”
He watched Irene nod. “I suppose you're correct. Let me introduce you to Willow.” So saying, she called the scantily dressed young woman over to her. “Willow, allow me to introduce you to Sherlock Holmes, he would like to assist us in correcting this situation.”
Willow stared at the man wide-eyes. “S-s-sp-spike?” she squeaked out at a high pitch.
“Perhaps,” Irene stated, surprised the girl hadn't said anything about her own attitude. “But for now, he is Sherlock Holmes and is of the firm belief that this is some sort of mass hallucination brought about by... What was it? I don't believe you said.”
“Most likely some sort of chemical or drug released into the air, since as far as I can tell it happened suddenly. Being released in food or water would not account for such a sudden and universal outburst.”
Irene suppressed laughter at his ability to delude himself. Poor man would never survive and introduction to the supernatural. “Yes. He's not so foolish as to thing it might be something like ritual magic or chaos magic or, really any type of magic, since that doesn't exist.” Turning toward him once more she asked, “Correct?” She held up her hand before he could respond to that. “Regardless, Willow knows of someone who may be useful to us. Lead on, Willow,” she encouraged, meeting Willow's eyes. She had very deliberately, and subtly emphasized parts of her previous sentence. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Sherlock picked up on it, but given his complete and unshakable faith that magic didn't exist, he most likely thought she was teasing him, not giving Willow potential research topics.
When he stepped up and offered her his arm, Irene couldn't resist.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
The next morning, Buffy woke up and looked around her room. She still had some impressions and memories of the previous night. Giles had warned her that her being the Slayer may allow her to recall more than others and she would bet he was right.
Still, finding a sheaf of notes sitting on her desk in a handwriting not her own and addressed to her gave her pause. As she began to read them, she smiled. She may not be quite as intelligent as Irene, but these were definitely things she could use.
In a warehouse across town, Spike sat in a darkened room and pulled the smoke of his cigarette into his lungs as he stared at a book.
Dru was in another room, trying to recover from the chaos in her mind caused by last night. With any luck she would never find out what he had done, what had happened. He'd known Holmes was not all right, the seven percent solution and what not, but his deductive and planning skills would be handy in his plans - both short an long term.
One of his minions scuttled in and dropped off the morning newspapers. He shot them a glare and waited for them to leave.
As they did, he slipped a small picture from the back of the book he'd been reading and stared at it. Buffy Summers. He had caught her out, but she had beaten him the next time they met.
He ran a finger over the image. There may have been others and may be even more in the future, but to him, she would always be “The Slayer”.
End
Thank you mods for running this and everyone for contributing, commenting and liking. I enjoyed reading all the fics and coming up with ideas of my own. Here's to another great year.