Fic: Underland (Sherlock Holmes / Neverwhere), PG-13 (9/17)
Title: Underland
Author: crimson_adder
Fandoms: Sherlock Holmes (ACD) / Neverwhere (Gaiman!verse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing / Characters: Holmes/Watson (eventually); Watson, marquis de Carabas.
Word Count: ~ 2600
Summary: John Watson loses a bet, grants a favour, and finds himself in a world unlike anything he has ever seen before. Except for how it's all the same.
Notes / Warnings: More angst. Very mild Watson/other, but it doesn't get physical. So this started with my own prompt on shkinkmeme which never got filled, so I decided to do it myself. :D If you see issues with anything, please feel free to tell me.
Right so, I lied a bit about actual plot. But lookit! :D Something exciting happens!
Underland - Part IX
As soon as we stepped outside the edges of the market onto Regent Street, I pulled away from the marquis' hold and delivered a swift blow to his solar plexus. He crumpled around my fist and coughed as the breath left his lungs.
Never once did I entertain the fallacy that I had surprised him. He allowed me to hit him, just as he allowed me to follow.
Still, the action granted me some measure of satisfaction and I stepped back to let him recover, regaining my composure and straightening my hat.
"Now, take me home, de Carabas," I said, and though my throat was clenched tight and my hands were shaking, my voice was remarkable steady.
The marquis straightened and ran a dark hand over his face to smooth back his braided hair.
"I cannot."
I could not move. I could not even think.
"Take me home!"
He said nothing, but made to approach me I flinched back and he stopped, hands raised in supplication.
"You have to take me home - you brought me here, now let me go!" I was grateful for the apparently infectious indifference that pervaded London Below, as I was admittedly growing hysterical, and had people stopped to watch as they would have in my London I fear I may have lost the fragile remains of my control.
The marquis made no more effort to come closer, but I could see from the ready shift of his stance he was prepared to lunge forwards if I either took off running or fainted dead away. Though I have never fainted before, I knew clinically that my quickened breathing and high anxiety were causing my head to reel and my vision to grey at the edges.
"Doctor Watson," the marquis said. "John - "
"No!" I shouted, holding up my hand to further stop him. I did not look at him, but I could feel the air thicken with regret when I continued, "do not say my name - you have no right to my name!"
The loud cry of a bird just overhead made my heart jump to my throat, and I spun to see three enormous ravens watching us from a tree branch. The one in the middle opened its beak to cry again, and the other two joined in canon, until the cacophony of sound pounding through my mind threw me backwards into the marquis' arms.
"Control yourself, Doctor," he said in a deep rumble I could feel vibrate through my back, clutched as I was to his torso.
The solidity of his presence was so real, so firm, so easy to understand, that my breath began to slow and my heart to calm until I collapsed against him with a single sob of grief.
"I just want to go home," I told is arms, clasped across my chest.
"I know, Doctor, and I am truly sorry."
His breath was hot and damp against the back of my neck, and I pulled away to face him, uncomfortable in my skin.
"What of my work? My friends? My home? My life?"
The marquis shook his head. "All gone. This London is not like the one where you lived. London Below - the Underside - is inhabited by the people who fell through the cracks in the world. Now you're one of them. You cannot go back to your old life, because it does not exist." He closed his eyes in what was no more than a slow blink. "You don't exist."
He turned as though to leave, keeping his eyes averted. "I am sorry, Doctor, but now you'll have to live like us, in the sewers and the magic and the dark."
He set off at a brisk pace, and was several feet ahead before he called back, "Are you coming? Don't want to be caught in the storm, now."
The skies had been beautifully clear all day from what I had seen, before traversing the Underground with Hammersmith, and I had seen several of the brightest stars just then while out of the glare of the circus lights. I had no notion, then, of what he was referring to, but on consideration also had no wish to know, so I simply jogged to catch up and followed behind him, nursing my distress in the silence of my mind.
-
The marquis de Carabas lead me down a sewer access tunnel, using that strange little key I had seen before. As always, the smell of rotten vegetables and effluvia was overpowering, though to my surprise, as we climbed farther down the scent tapered off until I could only smell damp stone and rusting iron.
The marquis pulled a single tapered candle from a pocket of his coat and lit it with a match. The smell of sulphur flared briefly with the sudden blaze, and the wavering light cast huge and grotesque shadows across the marquis and the walls.
There was a shallow current at the base of the tunnel, rushing south to empty into the Thames. My shoes were well beyond repair from their previous engagement with excessive amounts of water, so I did not hesitate to tramp through after the marquis, though I could not see a thing past the candle's shivering flame.
He led me through twists and turns - even more confidently than Hammersmith had navigated - through tunnels of different sizes, some large enough to fit a hansom, some so low I needed to remove my hat if I wished to keep it.
After some time I began to see images painted low on the walls, by my hips. Done in tones of russet, ochre and sienna, they recalled to mind the time I had travelled to the continent in my youth and had seen the cave of Niaux in southern France. They were the same stylistic drawings of animals - bison, gazelles, boars and pigs - that decorated both walls of the tunnel, never higher than my waist. It was as if an entire race of pygmies, like the vicious savage that had accompanied Jonathan Small in the case of the Agra Treasure, had roamed the tunnels centuries before. A moment later though, I saw what was obviously a horse drawn buggy, and a hansom, as well as a rough sketch of an underground train of the like I had ridden on earlier.
I laughed aloud, causing the marquis to look back at me with some scepticism at my sanity, but I was too amused by the wonderful paintings to much care what he thought.
All of a sudden I startled. I thought I had heard something in the passage behind us, a rustle of velvet or the flutter of wings. Afraid that I had roused something from its sleep by my burst of noise, I rushed as silently as I could to the still-moving marquis, and gripped the sleeve of his magnificent coat between my fingers. It was smooth and leathery under my touch, so worn it was as soft as butter.
This time he did not turn to look at me, but murmured low and rumbling, "Keep moving, Doctor. Fear not."
But even he jumped in alarm when the almost-human shriek of a crow's cry echoed through the tunnel. The sound reverberated in such a manner that it was impossible to tell where it had originated from, or how many birds had found their way into the passage with us.
The marquis drew me closer, once again linking his arm around mine, and I appreciated the solid reassurance.
If we walked faster through the sloshing water, then there was no one to notice, and no one to care.
We reached a ladder heading back into the streets after several more minutes of walking, and the marquis stepped aside to allow me up first. It was somewhat difficult to handle my bag, my cane, and the rungs of the ladder, but I would have refused de Carabas' help if he had offered it, so while my progress was slow, I made it up unaided. And up, and up.
I stopped. I could not see the end, so long was the vertical climb. I knew for a fact that it had only been some twenty feet that we had descended earlier, so either there had been a more severe incline in the tunnels than I had been aware of, or we were heading up into some entirely different place.
The marquis, who had procured a small wire cage and a clip of sorts to hold the candle to his lapel, coughed beneath me.
"Keep climbing, Doctor. This is perfectly safe, I assure you." There was a pause, and I heard a tinge of sardonic amusement in his voice, "provided you don't fall at any point."
I was tempted to drop my bag on his head, so conveniently located below my feet, but refrained for the sake of keeping my medical tools. I shifted my grip, making sure my cane was still secure, and continued up, each rung eight inches from the next, all perfectly smooth and straight.
Holmes had taught me that there was much to be told about a man by the state of his stairs. There were grooves worn down in the stone by the constant passing of feet, each one stepping in the most accessible place. How deep the grooves were determined how often visitors appeared, and the angles of the grooves showed the directions they came from by indicating which foot was placed upon the lowest step.
These thoughts seemed relevant to me, because there were no such markings on the rungs of the ladder - it was as if no one had ever passed up this way since their making, which admittedly gave strength to the marquis' assertion.
My musings were cut short when my head encountered something very hard, very abruptly. I nearly lost my hat, but the marquis' quick hand snatched it out of the air as it fell, and placed it soundly on his head with a white grin that made his teeth flash in the candlelight.
I pushed open a wooden trapdoor, and climbed on to an odd little platform that did not seem to be physically possible in the tunnel. At one end was the ladder, which the marquis was following me up perfunctorily, and at the other was a small door.
There was no room on the platform for the marquis to shuffle past me, nor even for two grown men to stand upon it with any significant space between them, so he leaned against my body for support and used his little key to unlock the door.
To my great astonishment it opened onto a roof, lit by moonlight and looking out over the city of London.
-
The marquis pulled some blankets out of nowhere, it seemed to me, and spread them across one part of the mansard roof. The flat apex was an odd decision for London, with its heavy wet winters, but I found no cause for complaint when I finally got the chance to sit and rest.
My stomach growled loudly, and it was with a start that I realised I had not eaten since the day before. That I had not even noticed was even more of a shock, for I am usually very aware of my own body, especially considering Holmes' lack of attention towards his.
The marquis gave me an indulgent smile and procured some bread and cheese from whatever place he had got the blankets. I fell ravenous upon the food, and ate until I was satisfied.
There are wonders that good food - or any food, given the circumstances - could do for a man's temperament. I fell back against the cushioned roof with a sigh and stared in wonder at the sheer number of stars in the sky. There were far more than I had ever seen before in the city, and it was astonishing how calm I was when I contemplated my own insignificance in the world. The dark silhouettes of ravens stood out starkly against the backdrop of the sky, perched on surrounding rooftops.
The marquis extinguished the candle, and lay back beside me, heat seeping through from where our shoulders pressed together. I could hear his breathing in the quiet of the night.
"I thought you said there was to be a storm."
"Not up here," he said, raising up on one elbow to lean over me. "Just down there."
It made no sense to me, but I was beginning to accept that that was going to be the way of the world.
"Now what?"
"Now you sleep. We have things to do in the morning."
"What will you do?"
For the first time since we had parted ways that night that seemed so long ago, I saw his secretive little smile flash across his lips, his own little joke at the world's expense. It was reassuring to see it again, and I took a deep sigh of a breath.
He leaned back again slightly when I sat up, though not far enough, and my arms brushed his chest as I made swift work of my collar, tie, and shirt cuffs. I slipped my braces from my shoulders and let them gather at my waist, before laying back again.
There was no need for propriety in this world, and I relished the feeling of the cool night air against my throat.
I have never believed in the limitations that society puts on love. At University, and somewhat during my time in Afghanistan I loved as many men as I had women. It was not something I indulged in often, for the comforts of a woman's curves and soft, supple skin were equally pleasing to my senses, but more than that I have been disinclined for several years to take part in any sort of affair with anyone.
I had for some time wondered if my affections for Holmes were returned in any way, but as far as I knew, his feelings towards the softer emotions were more along the lines of a distraction than a defining characteristic. It has always been perfectly satisfying to simply be in his presence, for his presence is a wondrous thing, all consuming, and miraculously overwhelming, and I have never needed any thing more.
Wanted, that is different. But I would not let my wants get in the way of our friendship.
The marquis, with his liquid black eyes reflecting the sparks of the stars, was the only thing I knew in this world. And he reminded me so much of my friend and companion, in addition to having his own remarkable and incredible character that I had never seen in any one before. He leaned over me, his face solemn and intense, and I could feel his breath whisper against my cheeks.
I would have kissed him, I am sure of it, though even today I do not know it I would have regretted it or not, if it hadn't been for the abrupt and surprising clearing of someone's throat, and a very familiar voice ringing out across the rooftop.
"I would thank you, de Carabas, if you would refrain from touching that which does not belong to you."
-
| Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII || Part IX || Part X |
| Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII |
Author: crimson_adder
Fandoms: Sherlock Holmes (ACD) / Neverwhere (Gaiman!verse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing / Characters: Holmes/Watson (eventually); Watson, marquis de Carabas.
Word Count: ~ 2600
Summary: John Watson loses a bet, grants a favour, and finds himself in a world unlike anything he has ever seen before. Except for how it's all the same.
Notes / Warnings: More angst. Very mild Watson/other, but it doesn't get physical. So this started with my own prompt on shkinkmeme which never got filled, so I decided to do it myself. :D If you see issues with anything, please feel free to tell me.
Right so, I lied a bit about actual plot. But lookit! :D Something exciting happens!
Underland - Part IX
As soon as we stepped outside the edges of the market onto Regent Street, I pulled away from the marquis' hold and delivered a swift blow to his solar plexus. He crumpled around my fist and coughed as the breath left his lungs.
Never once did I entertain the fallacy that I had surprised him. He allowed me to hit him, just as he allowed me to follow.
Still, the action granted me some measure of satisfaction and I stepped back to let him recover, regaining my composure and straightening my hat.
"Now, take me home, de Carabas," I said, and though my throat was clenched tight and my hands were shaking, my voice was remarkable steady.
The marquis straightened and ran a dark hand over his face to smooth back his braided hair.
"I cannot."
I could not move. I could not even think.
"Take me home!"
He said nothing, but made to approach me I flinched back and he stopped, hands raised in supplication.
"You have to take me home - you brought me here, now let me go!" I was grateful for the apparently infectious indifference that pervaded London Below, as I was admittedly growing hysterical, and had people stopped to watch as they would have in my London I fear I may have lost the fragile remains of my control.
The marquis made no more effort to come closer, but I could see from the ready shift of his stance he was prepared to lunge forwards if I either took off running or fainted dead away. Though I have never fainted before, I knew clinically that my quickened breathing and high anxiety were causing my head to reel and my vision to grey at the edges.
"Doctor Watson," the marquis said. "John - "
"No!" I shouted, holding up my hand to further stop him. I did not look at him, but I could feel the air thicken with regret when I continued, "do not say my name - you have no right to my name!"
The loud cry of a bird just overhead made my heart jump to my throat, and I spun to see three enormous ravens watching us from a tree branch. The one in the middle opened its beak to cry again, and the other two joined in canon, until the cacophony of sound pounding through my mind threw me backwards into the marquis' arms.
"Control yourself, Doctor," he said in a deep rumble I could feel vibrate through my back, clutched as I was to his torso.
The solidity of his presence was so real, so firm, so easy to understand, that my breath began to slow and my heart to calm until I collapsed against him with a single sob of grief.
"I just want to go home," I told is arms, clasped across my chest.
"I know, Doctor, and I am truly sorry."
His breath was hot and damp against the back of my neck, and I pulled away to face him, uncomfortable in my skin.
"What of my work? My friends? My home? My life?"
The marquis shook his head. "All gone. This London is not like the one where you lived. London Below - the Underside - is inhabited by the people who fell through the cracks in the world. Now you're one of them. You cannot go back to your old life, because it does not exist." He closed his eyes in what was no more than a slow blink. "You don't exist."
He turned as though to leave, keeping his eyes averted. "I am sorry, Doctor, but now you'll have to live like us, in the sewers and the magic and the dark."
He set off at a brisk pace, and was several feet ahead before he called back, "Are you coming? Don't want to be caught in the storm, now."
The skies had been beautifully clear all day from what I had seen, before traversing the Underground with Hammersmith, and I had seen several of the brightest stars just then while out of the glare of the circus lights. I had no notion, then, of what he was referring to, but on consideration also had no wish to know, so I simply jogged to catch up and followed behind him, nursing my distress in the silence of my mind.
-
The marquis de Carabas lead me down a sewer access tunnel, using that strange little key I had seen before. As always, the smell of rotten vegetables and effluvia was overpowering, though to my surprise, as we climbed farther down the scent tapered off until I could only smell damp stone and rusting iron.
The marquis pulled a single tapered candle from a pocket of his coat and lit it with a match. The smell of sulphur flared briefly with the sudden blaze, and the wavering light cast huge and grotesque shadows across the marquis and the walls.
There was a shallow current at the base of the tunnel, rushing south to empty into the Thames. My shoes were well beyond repair from their previous engagement with excessive amounts of water, so I did not hesitate to tramp through after the marquis, though I could not see a thing past the candle's shivering flame.
He led me through twists and turns - even more confidently than Hammersmith had navigated - through tunnels of different sizes, some large enough to fit a hansom, some so low I needed to remove my hat if I wished to keep it.
After some time I began to see images painted low on the walls, by my hips. Done in tones of russet, ochre and sienna, they recalled to mind the time I had travelled to the continent in my youth and had seen the cave of Niaux in southern France. They were the same stylistic drawings of animals - bison, gazelles, boars and pigs - that decorated both walls of the tunnel, never higher than my waist. It was as if an entire race of pygmies, like the vicious savage that had accompanied Jonathan Small in the case of the Agra Treasure, had roamed the tunnels centuries before. A moment later though, I saw what was obviously a horse drawn buggy, and a hansom, as well as a rough sketch of an underground train of the like I had ridden on earlier.
I laughed aloud, causing the marquis to look back at me with some scepticism at my sanity, but I was too amused by the wonderful paintings to much care what he thought.
All of a sudden I startled. I thought I had heard something in the passage behind us, a rustle of velvet or the flutter of wings. Afraid that I had roused something from its sleep by my burst of noise, I rushed as silently as I could to the still-moving marquis, and gripped the sleeve of his magnificent coat between my fingers. It was smooth and leathery under my touch, so worn it was as soft as butter.
This time he did not turn to look at me, but murmured low and rumbling, "Keep moving, Doctor. Fear not."
But even he jumped in alarm when the almost-human shriek of a crow's cry echoed through the tunnel. The sound reverberated in such a manner that it was impossible to tell where it had originated from, or how many birds had found their way into the passage with us.
The marquis drew me closer, once again linking his arm around mine, and I appreciated the solid reassurance.
If we walked faster through the sloshing water, then there was no one to notice, and no one to care.
We reached a ladder heading back into the streets after several more minutes of walking, and the marquis stepped aside to allow me up first. It was somewhat difficult to handle my bag, my cane, and the rungs of the ladder, but I would have refused de Carabas' help if he had offered it, so while my progress was slow, I made it up unaided. And up, and up.
I stopped. I could not see the end, so long was the vertical climb. I knew for a fact that it had only been some twenty feet that we had descended earlier, so either there had been a more severe incline in the tunnels than I had been aware of, or we were heading up into some entirely different place.
The marquis, who had procured a small wire cage and a clip of sorts to hold the candle to his lapel, coughed beneath me.
"Keep climbing, Doctor. This is perfectly safe, I assure you." There was a pause, and I heard a tinge of sardonic amusement in his voice, "provided you don't fall at any point."
I was tempted to drop my bag on his head, so conveniently located below my feet, but refrained for the sake of keeping my medical tools. I shifted my grip, making sure my cane was still secure, and continued up, each rung eight inches from the next, all perfectly smooth and straight.
Holmes had taught me that there was much to be told about a man by the state of his stairs. There were grooves worn down in the stone by the constant passing of feet, each one stepping in the most accessible place. How deep the grooves were determined how often visitors appeared, and the angles of the grooves showed the directions they came from by indicating which foot was placed upon the lowest step.
These thoughts seemed relevant to me, because there were no such markings on the rungs of the ladder - it was as if no one had ever passed up this way since their making, which admittedly gave strength to the marquis' assertion.
My musings were cut short when my head encountered something very hard, very abruptly. I nearly lost my hat, but the marquis' quick hand snatched it out of the air as it fell, and placed it soundly on his head with a white grin that made his teeth flash in the candlelight.
I pushed open a wooden trapdoor, and climbed on to an odd little platform that did not seem to be physically possible in the tunnel. At one end was the ladder, which the marquis was following me up perfunctorily, and at the other was a small door.
There was no room on the platform for the marquis to shuffle past me, nor even for two grown men to stand upon it with any significant space between them, so he leaned against my body for support and used his little key to unlock the door.
To my great astonishment it opened onto a roof, lit by moonlight and looking out over the city of London.
-
The marquis pulled some blankets out of nowhere, it seemed to me, and spread them across one part of the mansard roof. The flat apex was an odd decision for London, with its heavy wet winters, but I found no cause for complaint when I finally got the chance to sit and rest.
My stomach growled loudly, and it was with a start that I realised I had not eaten since the day before. That I had not even noticed was even more of a shock, for I am usually very aware of my own body, especially considering Holmes' lack of attention towards his.
The marquis gave me an indulgent smile and procured some bread and cheese from whatever place he had got the blankets. I fell ravenous upon the food, and ate until I was satisfied.
There are wonders that good food - or any food, given the circumstances - could do for a man's temperament. I fell back against the cushioned roof with a sigh and stared in wonder at the sheer number of stars in the sky. There were far more than I had ever seen before in the city, and it was astonishing how calm I was when I contemplated my own insignificance in the world. The dark silhouettes of ravens stood out starkly against the backdrop of the sky, perched on surrounding rooftops.
The marquis extinguished the candle, and lay back beside me, heat seeping through from where our shoulders pressed together. I could hear his breathing in the quiet of the night.
"I thought you said there was to be a storm."
"Not up here," he said, raising up on one elbow to lean over me. "Just down there."
It made no sense to me, but I was beginning to accept that that was going to be the way of the world.
"Now what?"
"Now you sleep. We have things to do in the morning."
"What will you do?"
For the first time since we had parted ways that night that seemed so long ago, I saw his secretive little smile flash across his lips, his own little joke at the world's expense. It was reassuring to see it again, and I took a deep sigh of a breath.
He leaned back again slightly when I sat up, though not far enough, and my arms brushed his chest as I made swift work of my collar, tie, and shirt cuffs. I slipped my braces from my shoulders and let them gather at my waist, before laying back again.
There was no need for propriety in this world, and I relished the feeling of the cool night air against my throat.
I have never believed in the limitations that society puts on love. At University, and somewhat during my time in Afghanistan I loved as many men as I had women. It was not something I indulged in often, for the comforts of a woman's curves and soft, supple skin were equally pleasing to my senses, but more than that I have been disinclined for several years to take part in any sort of affair with anyone.
I had for some time wondered if my affections for Holmes were returned in any way, but as far as I knew, his feelings towards the softer emotions were more along the lines of a distraction than a defining characteristic. It has always been perfectly satisfying to simply be in his presence, for his presence is a wondrous thing, all consuming, and miraculously overwhelming, and I have never needed any thing more.
Wanted, that is different. But I would not let my wants get in the way of our friendship.
The marquis, with his liquid black eyes reflecting the sparks of the stars, was the only thing I knew in this world. And he reminded me so much of my friend and companion, in addition to having his own remarkable and incredible character that I had never seen in any one before. He leaned over me, his face solemn and intense, and I could feel his breath whisper against my cheeks.
I would have kissed him, I am sure of it, though even today I do not know it I would have regretted it or not, if it hadn't been for the abrupt and surprising clearing of someone's throat, and a very familiar voice ringing out across the rooftop.
"I would thank you, de Carabas, if you would refrain from touching that which does not belong to you."
-
| Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII || Part IX || Part X |
| Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII |