Fic: City of Delusion 4/?, Dresden Files/Sherlock [PG]
Title: City of Delusion
Author: A Lanart
Fandoms: Dresden Files (tv verse) and Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/pairing: Harry Dresden, Connie Murphy, Bob, Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating/Spoilers: PG. References to the Dresden Files ep The Boone Identity, no other spoilers.
Warnings: Sherlock and magic in the same fic has to be a bit cracky, right?
Word Count: This part 1302
Summary: Greg Lestrade has an unexpected encounter in Chicago - he isn't the only one, either - and discovers there are worse things to deal with than know-it-all consulting detectives.
Disclaimer: The BBC, Mr S Moffat and Mr M Gatiss own this version of Sherlock Holmes though ACD invented him. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden and his universe (although Lionsgate/sci-fi own the tv series).
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.
Title from the song by Muse
A/N: Sorry for the gap in posting, I have had the busy, and a lack of inspiration. Thanks to a train journey the muses seem to be back (for now at least).
Chapter 1 on LJ
Chapter 2 on LJ
Chapter 3 on LJ
(also available on AO3)
~*~
~4~
*
Greg wasn't entirely surprised to discover that Sherlock's hotel had an almost British feel to it; it was in an older building and appeared to be family run. Knowing Sherlock, he had probably solved a case for the family at some time ensuring that he never had to look for somewhere to stay in Chicago.
No sooner than they were ensconced in a discreet corner of the comfortable lounge, with drinks and Bob in his backpack on the table between them, Sherlock disappeared, after waving his phone in what Greg presumed was as much of an explanation as they were likely to get. John vaguely waved back at him which implied that he at least knew what Sherlock meant, a demonstration of his ability to understand even non-verbal Sherlock speak. Greg just hoped he'd translate.
John obliged. "Chicago is 6 hours behind London," he said. "Sherlock needs to contact his people at the museum in order to still have a chance of getting some sort of response tonight, but doesn't want to risk using his mobile near Harry and Bob, just to be on the safe side."
"Oh. Do you really think they really will get back to us tonight?" Greg asked.
John shrugged. "It's Sherlock, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest. Whether we'll get an answer that makes any sense to us mere mortals is another thing altogether."
"You are joking about the mortal thing, Right?" Dresden sounded almost worried.
Bob's disgusted voice emerged from the backpack. "Of course he is, you…"
"Oh he's mortal enough," Greg interrupted, stopping Bob's potential tirade in its tracks. "John's had to patch him up too many times for him to be anything else."
"But?"
Trust Dresden to pick up on what was unspoken.
"But Sherlock Holmes isn't a 'mere' anything," Greg added.
"Not even if he's just being a pain in the arse," said John. "Everything has to have style and flair."
"Dear God, I can just imagine it."
"Bob!" Dresden sounded like he was stuck halfway between amused and disgruntled.
"Well I can!" Bob protested. "And being subjected to it on a daily basis is not something a normal person would deal with easily."
"I suppose it's a good job I gave up normal a long time ago, isn't it?" John said with a cheeky grin.
Greg bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing.. many a true word and all that jazz; John was no more normal than Sherlock, no matter what front he presented to the world, he just didn't usually announce it so gleefully.
"Quite," agreed Bob. It was probably a good thing that he was non-corporeal as Greg doubted he would have been able to keep a lid on his suppressed fit of the giggles if confronted by the expression that went with the voice.
*
Sherlock returned to the hotel lounge far sooner than Harry had expected.
"That was quick," he said. In his experience so called experts hemmed and hawed for hours or even days before providing anything concrete, though he supposed anyone exposed to Sherlock would potentially be more amenable to providing speedy answers even if it was just to get him to stop bothering them.
"I don't have a translation yet, unfortunately."
"But you do have some information," Lestrade said. It was a statement rather than a question, he was probably used to the way Sherlock worded things even if he didn't seem to have the whole non-verbal translation thing going that John seemed to.
"Indeed." Sherlock eased into one of the chairs around their table. Harry was then subjected to one of his intimidating glances. "You have the sketch?" Harry duly extricated it from the pocket in which he'd shoved it before they left the crime scene and laid it on the table near the open end of Bob's backpack. He carefully smoothed out the creases and sat back.
"All yours," said Harry.
Sherlock pointed to the upper part of the sketch. "You'll notice the first line has significantly more detail. According to my contact, that line contains the only true hieroglyphs of this design."
"If the rest of it doesn't class as hieroglyphs, what is it?" John sounded genuinely interested as he traced out some of the patterns.
" Apparently a form of writing called Hieretic, frequently used in religious documents."
"Religious documents? You mean this could be a prayer of some sort?" John asked
"Perhaps."
"But a prayer to who? And for what? That could be pretty significant, you know." Lestrade had managed to articulate exactly what Harry was thinking, Bob too, judging by the wordless rumble of agreement from the backpack.
"Until we obtain a detailed translation, we won't know, though my contact was able to tell me one thing for certain. A name."
"Which is? This really isn't the time for dramatics, Sherlock." How John managed to metaphorically deliver a verbal slap on the wrist without sounding overly critical was beyond Harry.
"Set."
"Set?" He might be ignorant of most things Egyptian, but even Harry had heard of Set and the implication of what the appearance of his name might mean in this context wasn't exactly comforting.
"Otherwise known as Sutekh, sometimes worshipped as a god of chaos and confusion," Sherlock added.
"Yes, yes. We've heard of Set," muttered Bob with his usual acerbic impatience, though in Harry's opinion it lost something without being able to see his expression. It was probably a good job they were in a dim corner. "Or maybe I should more accurately state that Harry and I have heard of Set. He's an appropriate entity to beseech for help if one wanted to remain hidden in plain sight, particularly after committing a crime."
Harry tapped his fingers against the paper on the table, he'd torn one of his fingernails without realising and he couldn't help but stare at it as an idea rapidly coalesced in his head.
"So the tattoo could be some sort of permanent veil," he mused.
"Possibly activated by a verbal trigger, yes," Bob agreed
"And the person wouldn't have to be a magic user himself…"
"Because the spell would have been cast by another. It fits." Bob sounded entirely too enthusiastic and Harry raised his eyes from the study of his fingers to find that the others were all staring at him with varying expressions of interest and bemusement.
"It also bears far too much similarity to the Boone case for Murphy to be happy," Harry said, hating to put a dampener on things but it could make things difficult, especially with Murphy.
Sherlock cleared his throat. "It strikes me that Lieutenant Murphy would very rarely be happy about a case where she had to call on your expertise," he said.
"And doesn't that seem familiar," Lestrade chimed in, sounding as resigned as Murphy ever did.
"I get results."
"Yes you do, Sherlock, but it doesn't mean I have to be happy about needing to call you in. I imagine Murphy feels much the same."
"Worse, I expect," John offered. Lestrade frowned what Harry assumed was a request to elaborate at him; the guy had a ridiculously expressive face. "At least Sherlock isn't using magic," John clarified.
"Might as well be for all the sense I can get out of him sometimes," Lestrade said.
"At least you're relatively open minded for a member of the police force and not a complete idiot all of the time." Harry decided this was a somewhat unexpected statement from Sherlock due to the almost startled looks turned on him by both John and Lestrade.
There were a few heartbeats of silence.
"Thanks. I think," Lestrade said, with what looked a smile trying to creep onto his face. Harry bit his lip so he didn't say something inappropriate and also hoped that Bob would stay quiet. He seemed to be in luck.
*
Crossposted from http://a-lanart.dreamwidth.org/245323.html. Comment here, comment there; it's all fine.
Author: A Lanart
Fandoms: Dresden Files (tv verse) and Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/pairing: Harry Dresden, Connie Murphy, Bob, Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating/Spoilers: PG. References to the Dresden Files ep The Boone Identity, no other spoilers.
Warnings: Sherlock and magic in the same fic has to be a bit cracky, right?
Word Count: This part 1302
Summary: Greg Lestrade has an unexpected encounter in Chicago - he isn't the only one, either - and discovers there are worse things to deal with than know-it-all consulting detectives.
Disclaimer: The BBC, Mr S Moffat and Mr M Gatiss own this version of Sherlock Holmes though ACD invented him. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden and his universe (although Lionsgate/sci-fi own the tv series).
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.
Title from the song by Muse
A/N: Sorry for the gap in posting, I have had the busy, and a lack of inspiration. Thanks to a train journey the muses seem to be back (for now at least).
Chapter 1 on LJ
Chapter 2 on LJ
Chapter 3 on LJ
(also available on AO3)
~*~
~4~
*
Greg wasn't entirely surprised to discover that Sherlock's hotel had an almost British feel to it; it was in an older building and appeared to be family run. Knowing Sherlock, he had probably solved a case for the family at some time ensuring that he never had to look for somewhere to stay in Chicago.
No sooner than they were ensconced in a discreet corner of the comfortable lounge, with drinks and Bob in his backpack on the table between them, Sherlock disappeared, after waving his phone in what Greg presumed was as much of an explanation as they were likely to get. John vaguely waved back at him which implied that he at least knew what Sherlock meant, a demonstration of his ability to understand even non-verbal Sherlock speak. Greg just hoped he'd translate.
John obliged. "Chicago is 6 hours behind London," he said. "Sherlock needs to contact his people at the museum in order to still have a chance of getting some sort of response tonight, but doesn't want to risk using his mobile near Harry and Bob, just to be on the safe side."
"Oh. Do you really think they really will get back to us tonight?" Greg asked.
John shrugged. "It's Sherlock, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest. Whether we'll get an answer that makes any sense to us mere mortals is another thing altogether."
"You are joking about the mortal thing, Right?" Dresden sounded almost worried.
Bob's disgusted voice emerged from the backpack. "Of course he is, you…"
"Oh he's mortal enough," Greg interrupted, stopping Bob's potential tirade in its tracks. "John's had to patch him up too many times for him to be anything else."
"But?"
Trust Dresden to pick up on what was unspoken.
"But Sherlock Holmes isn't a 'mere' anything," Greg added.
"Not even if he's just being a pain in the arse," said John. "Everything has to have style and flair."
"Dear God, I can just imagine it."
"Bob!" Dresden sounded like he was stuck halfway between amused and disgruntled.
"Well I can!" Bob protested. "And being subjected to it on a daily basis is not something a normal person would deal with easily."
"I suppose it's a good job I gave up normal a long time ago, isn't it?" John said with a cheeky grin.
Greg bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing.. many a true word and all that jazz; John was no more normal than Sherlock, no matter what front he presented to the world, he just didn't usually announce it so gleefully.
"Quite," agreed Bob. It was probably a good thing that he was non-corporeal as Greg doubted he would have been able to keep a lid on his suppressed fit of the giggles if confronted by the expression that went with the voice.
*
Sherlock returned to the hotel lounge far sooner than Harry had expected.
"That was quick," he said. In his experience so called experts hemmed and hawed for hours or even days before providing anything concrete, though he supposed anyone exposed to Sherlock would potentially be more amenable to providing speedy answers even if it was just to get him to stop bothering them.
"I don't have a translation yet, unfortunately."
"But you do have some information," Lestrade said. It was a statement rather than a question, he was probably used to the way Sherlock worded things even if he didn't seem to have the whole non-verbal translation thing going that John seemed to.
"Indeed." Sherlock eased into one of the chairs around their table. Harry was then subjected to one of his intimidating glances. "You have the sketch?" Harry duly extricated it from the pocket in which he'd shoved it before they left the crime scene and laid it on the table near the open end of Bob's backpack. He carefully smoothed out the creases and sat back.
"All yours," said Harry.
Sherlock pointed to the upper part of the sketch. "You'll notice the first line has significantly more detail. According to my contact, that line contains the only true hieroglyphs of this design."
"If the rest of it doesn't class as hieroglyphs, what is it?" John sounded genuinely interested as he traced out some of the patterns.
" Apparently a form of writing called Hieretic, frequently used in religious documents."
"Religious documents? You mean this could be a prayer of some sort?" John asked
"Perhaps."
"But a prayer to who? And for what? That could be pretty significant, you know." Lestrade had managed to articulate exactly what Harry was thinking, Bob too, judging by the wordless rumble of agreement from the backpack.
"Until we obtain a detailed translation, we won't know, though my contact was able to tell me one thing for certain. A name."
"Which is? This really isn't the time for dramatics, Sherlock." How John managed to metaphorically deliver a verbal slap on the wrist without sounding overly critical was beyond Harry.
"Set."
"Set?" He might be ignorant of most things Egyptian, but even Harry had heard of Set and the implication of what the appearance of his name might mean in this context wasn't exactly comforting.
"Otherwise known as Sutekh, sometimes worshipped as a god of chaos and confusion," Sherlock added.
"Yes, yes. We've heard of Set," muttered Bob with his usual acerbic impatience, though in Harry's opinion it lost something without being able to see his expression. It was probably a good job they were in a dim corner. "Or maybe I should more accurately state that Harry and I have heard of Set. He's an appropriate entity to beseech for help if one wanted to remain hidden in plain sight, particularly after committing a crime."
Harry tapped his fingers against the paper on the table, he'd torn one of his fingernails without realising and he couldn't help but stare at it as an idea rapidly coalesced in his head.
"So the tattoo could be some sort of permanent veil," he mused.
"Possibly activated by a verbal trigger, yes," Bob agreed
"And the person wouldn't have to be a magic user himself…"
"Because the spell would have been cast by another. It fits." Bob sounded entirely too enthusiastic and Harry raised his eyes from the study of his fingers to find that the others were all staring at him with varying expressions of interest and bemusement.
"It also bears far too much similarity to the Boone case for Murphy to be happy," Harry said, hating to put a dampener on things but it could make things difficult, especially with Murphy.
Sherlock cleared his throat. "It strikes me that Lieutenant Murphy would very rarely be happy about a case where she had to call on your expertise," he said.
"And doesn't that seem familiar," Lestrade chimed in, sounding as resigned as Murphy ever did.
"I get results."
"Yes you do, Sherlock, but it doesn't mean I have to be happy about needing to call you in. I imagine Murphy feels much the same."
"Worse, I expect," John offered. Lestrade frowned what Harry assumed was a request to elaborate at him; the guy had a ridiculously expressive face. "At least Sherlock isn't using magic," John clarified.
"Might as well be for all the sense I can get out of him sometimes," Lestrade said.
"At least you're relatively open minded for a member of the police force and not a complete idiot all of the time." Harry decided this was a somewhat unexpected statement from Sherlock due to the almost startled looks turned on him by both John and Lestrade.
There were a few heartbeats of silence.
"Thanks. I think," Lestrade said, with what looked a smile trying to creep onto his face. Harry bit his lip so he didn't say something inappropriate and also hoped that Bob would stay quiet. He seemed to be in luck.
*
Crossposted from http://a-lanart.dreamwidth.org/245323.html. Comment here, comment there; it's all fine.