Fic: Underland (Sherlock Holmes / Neverwhere), PG-13 (15/17)
Y'all better be glad this chapter was finished today considering just how much time I spent distracted by sex is not the enemy. it's SO GOOD. beautiful people doing beautiful things. NSFW, though, so be warned. :D
Title: Underland
Author: crimson_adder
Fandoms: Sherlock Holmes (ACD) / Neverwhere (Gaiman!verse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing / Characters: Holmes/Watson; marquis de Carabas, Hunter, the earl, rat speakers, courtiers, the Nineteenth Legion
Word Count: ~ 1800
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: 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.
Uuhh...so, epic battle scene, anyone? It's fun! No but really, I'm stalling until the next chapter to write that, 'cause frankly, it terrifies me. D:
Side Note: if anyone would be willing to beta-read my epic battle scene for me before I posted it, I would be SO THANKFUL. *puppy eyes* I'd make mz do it, but she hasn't read the rest of this, so that would be odd...
Underland - Part XV
-
I stirred once again to find Holmes had woken before me, though he had rearranged us so that he sat against the wall with my head on his thighs. Beyond the curtain there was a flurry of activity and low, murmuring voices that coincided with shadows passing back and forth.
"The earl has arrived," said Holmes, as I sat up and brushed the sleep from my eyes.
"Is that what that is? Why has he come, I thought he was afraid of you?"
Holmes laughed. "Terrified, actually. I believe the marquis de Carabas had something to do with it." He shifted against the furs of the cot and reached up to tangle his long fingers in the short hairs at the base of my neck. "My people and the earl's court have had a blood feud since ancient times, and the marquis was called upon to negotiate the peace treaty between us. Apparently the earl was quite finished with the bloodshed. Either way, the end result was that he owed de Carabas a favour. And we all know how that ends." He eyed me pointedly. I just shrugged. "And he's brought his soldiers. I'm sure they'll be most useful."
I laughed at his last words, said with such disdain, and remembered the earl's dusty old courtiers, sleepy and worn.
The earl's men were running about the place waving spears and handkerchiefs, gathering weapons and armour, while the rat speakers stood and watched them in mild bemusement.
They were as ragtag as expected, many of them old, many of them young, none of them warriors. The earl's place in the hierarchy of London Below was many years realised, and he'd not had to fight for his rule in ages - or so it seemed to me. His soldiers were disused and weak, though committed to their cause, and I could not help but feel major misgivings deep in my gut, of what would happen in the coming fight.
"So how do we go about doing this?"
"Moriarty has a intellectual mind to match my own, whatever we do, he will have considered the probability of it and will meet us head on. I have advised we not hide from him any longer - it will lead to nothing but greater fear, for fear of harm causes greater devastation than actual physical injury. We shall find a neutral ground, and we shall fight to the death."
The earl's train was waiting for us, several other cars commandeered from London above, much to the disinterest of the normal passengers. The cars, empty and barren as the troop carriers that had hauled my self and my fellows out to the deserts of Afghanistan, were packed full of silent, fearful men and women. The rat speakers had supplied us with anyone who had volunteered, and both genders were represented nearly equally, much to my surprise. Holmes was less than impressed at the narrow frames and pale faces of the younger women, highly doubtful of their possible contribution, but I found my self intrigued by the confident carriage of their shoulders and chins. They were afraid, yes, we all were, but they were as strong-willed and ready to fight as any man present.
The train creaked and rattled on its rails, swaying and jostling us together and apart. Holmes was pressed against my side, his shoulders knocking against mine in warm reassurance of his presence.
It may have been an hours, or it may have been a quarter of an hour, before the train shuddered to a halt, and we all lurched forwards, and the doors opened into a blaze of white hot magic, flooding the tiny train car with radiance that took the breath from my lungs and the sight from my eyes.
I reached up to shield my face, but Holmes captured my hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing it while keeping me restrained, and we stared into the light together, blind and overwhelmed. It was like la petite mort, a climax of spirit and soul and magic, leaving me shuddering and breathless, sagging against Holmes, caught tight in his long arms.
-
The marquis de Carabas was waiting for us on the other side.
He stood out like the first mark of black ink on a blank page, a blemish that is the first step to a masterpiece, smug and proud, something that could speak our triumph or our ruin.
We exited the train car, all of us soldiers and warriors, and I felt that I could not possibly open my eyes wide enough.
In this place there existed nothing for miles and miles. An empty plane of whiteness - no walls, no floors, no ceilings - no ground, no trees, no sky. Beneath my feet there was something solid, yet intangible, enough to support my weight but not enough to exist. It was like wading through water above my head, water made of light, or a fog so dense that it obscured the rest of the world into a separate existence.
"Where are we?"
"The Great White City," replied the marquis, at my shoulder, a glint of familiar sardonic amusement in his voice.
"White - where? I've never heard of White City before."
"Oh, just north of Shepherd's Bush. We are still in London though, I assure you." He cocked his head, peering about, shading his eyes with his dark hand. "Well, more or less, give or take an alternative mystical dimension."
"But - but there's nothing there! That's all just farm land, I'm quite sure of it, nothing but country. And it's certainly not called White City."
"Well it's not been built yet, now has it? That's why there's nothing here. Just because something's not there yet doesn't mean it doesn't exist, Doctor." He was smiling at me, amused and superior, once again pleased with his own cleverness.
Our army looked so sad and pitiful in this endless wasteland, small and inconsequential against the backdrop of infinity. The rat speakers in their furs with their makeshift blades of glass and steel, and the earl's men in their tin hats and sturdy spears. There could not have been more than sixty - eighty at the most, but we had no concept of what the opposing force would look like.
"Oh, this will be fun." And he sounded so much like Holmes that I knew I could have loved him if I had to, not out of necessity, but from my heart. But I also knew despite whatever physical attraction he might have felt, and beyond whatever feeling of obligation and friendship he had, he would never love me the same way that Holmes did, and I was pleased that I would never harm my self, throwing my hopes against the spikes of his personality. "By the Temple and Arch, it's a good thing I brought reinforcements."
I jolted, and looked around. There had been no one but the marquis when we arrived, and I could see no extra persons aside from the ones we brought with us.
The marquis waved his hand about, brushing aside my incredulity. "They shall arrive in their own time - Lady Tür is with them, she can get them anywhere. She is the oldest child of the House of the Arch, they're openers, they do that sort of thing. Aah - and here they are now!"
He took my arm and dragged me to where several dozen people had just walked out of nothing. They were led by a tall woman, with burnished auburn hair in tight ringlets, and flashing opaline eyes. She was pale and elfin and beautiful, her cheeks a delicate shade of rose, and her classically styled dress fitting her properly in all the right places. The full skirts of her dress were layered with different fabrics that seemed incongruous, lace and moiré, wool and chiffon, like she had made it herself out of whatever material she found available.
Beside her was an Amazonian woman, perhaps the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, with skin the colour of burnt caramel and wide tawny eyes. She wore animal skins like they were her own, dappled leather patchwork in gradating shades of brown and gold and grey.
At least thirty Roman soldiers followed them, not in formation, but peering about and chatting quietly with each other in what sounded like - and must have been, upon consideration - old Latin.
The marquis had his hand on my back, and presented me to the women as if he were introducing me to the queen herself.
"Doctor, I'd like you to meet the Lady Tür, of the House of the Arch, and Hunter, the greatest in the underworld. Ladies, this is Doctor Watson, companion to Lord Sherry Vernet of the Raven's Court."
Lady Tür greeted me with a warm smile, but there was a fierceness in her prismatic eyes that bespoke of a deeper fire beneath her glass-like exterior.
"I have seen him before," Hunter spoke, her voice husky like cream and honey, a low purr that I had heard once before across the underground sea.
I bowed my head, removing my hat. "I thought you had no interest in our cause," I said, standing tall and looking her in the eyes with the respect she deserved.
"I did not," she replied, her long mane of sandy hair tumbling about her bare shoulders as she shook her head. "But my circumstances have changed. Something important has been taken from me - I could not kill the men who did it, because they were not men, though I have been informed they are compatriots to your enemy. I wish to do them harm, and take back what they stole." Holmes had joined us by that point, and stood on my other side. Hunter nodded her magnificent head to him. "Because of your gift I am willing to follow your command. You are not a warrior, but a mind, this is what I have heard, so I will be your fist."
"I am glad to have your help, Hunter," said Holmes, inclining his head as well. He took my hand and linked our fingers together.
The marquis watched me silent for a moment, and then turned his blinding white smile on the two women. "And I see you've brought the Nineteenth Legion with you, from the banks of the Kilburn River, aren't they? Yes, so good to see you. Come, come, meet the rest of the troops."
Weapons were passed out, armour tightened, frightened faces gulped down to shaking knees and facades of bravery pasted on like plasters. We stood in a rough circle, facing out so that we could see as far in the vastness of White City as our feeble eyes would let us, not knowing where the attack would come from.
Finally, after minutes, or hours, or days of standing and waiting and fearing, there was movement on the western front, so to speak, and the Professor's troops stepped up to do battle.
-
| 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<'a> |
Title: Underland
Author: crimson_adder
Fandoms: Sherlock Holmes (ACD) / Neverwhere (Gaiman!verse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing / Characters: Holmes/Watson; marquis de Carabas, Hunter, the earl, rat speakers, courtiers, the Nineteenth Legion
Word Count: ~ 1800
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: 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.
Uuhh...so, epic battle scene, anyone? It's fun! No but really, I'm stalling until the next chapter to write that, 'cause frankly, it terrifies me. D:
Side Note: if anyone would be willing to beta-read my epic battle scene for me before I posted it, I would be SO THANKFUL. *puppy eyes* I'd make mz do it, but she hasn't read the rest of this, so that would be odd...
Underland - Part XV
-
I stirred once again to find Holmes had woken before me, though he had rearranged us so that he sat against the wall with my head on his thighs. Beyond the curtain there was a flurry of activity and low, murmuring voices that coincided with shadows passing back and forth.
"The earl has arrived," said Holmes, as I sat up and brushed the sleep from my eyes.
"Is that what that is? Why has he come, I thought he was afraid of you?"
Holmes laughed. "Terrified, actually. I believe the marquis de Carabas had something to do with it." He shifted against the furs of the cot and reached up to tangle his long fingers in the short hairs at the base of my neck. "My people and the earl's court have had a blood feud since ancient times, and the marquis was called upon to negotiate the peace treaty between us. Apparently the earl was quite finished with the bloodshed. Either way, the end result was that he owed de Carabas a favour. And we all know how that ends." He eyed me pointedly. I just shrugged. "And he's brought his soldiers. I'm sure they'll be most useful."
I laughed at his last words, said with such disdain, and remembered the earl's dusty old courtiers, sleepy and worn.
The earl's men were running about the place waving spears and handkerchiefs, gathering weapons and armour, while the rat speakers stood and watched them in mild bemusement.
They were as ragtag as expected, many of them old, many of them young, none of them warriors. The earl's place in the hierarchy of London Below was many years realised, and he'd not had to fight for his rule in ages - or so it seemed to me. His soldiers were disused and weak, though committed to their cause, and I could not help but feel major misgivings deep in my gut, of what would happen in the coming fight.
"So how do we go about doing this?"
"Moriarty has a intellectual mind to match my own, whatever we do, he will have considered the probability of it and will meet us head on. I have advised we not hide from him any longer - it will lead to nothing but greater fear, for fear of harm causes greater devastation than actual physical injury. We shall find a neutral ground, and we shall fight to the death."
The earl's train was waiting for us, several other cars commandeered from London above, much to the disinterest of the normal passengers. The cars, empty and barren as the troop carriers that had hauled my self and my fellows out to the deserts of Afghanistan, were packed full of silent, fearful men and women. The rat speakers had supplied us with anyone who had volunteered, and both genders were represented nearly equally, much to my surprise. Holmes was less than impressed at the narrow frames and pale faces of the younger women, highly doubtful of their possible contribution, but I found my self intrigued by the confident carriage of their shoulders and chins. They were afraid, yes, we all were, but they were as strong-willed and ready to fight as any man present.
The train creaked and rattled on its rails, swaying and jostling us together and apart. Holmes was pressed against my side, his shoulders knocking against mine in warm reassurance of his presence.
It may have been an hours, or it may have been a quarter of an hour, before the train shuddered to a halt, and we all lurched forwards, and the doors opened into a blaze of white hot magic, flooding the tiny train car with radiance that took the breath from my lungs and the sight from my eyes.
I reached up to shield my face, but Holmes captured my hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing it while keeping me restrained, and we stared into the light together, blind and overwhelmed. It was like la petite mort, a climax of spirit and soul and magic, leaving me shuddering and breathless, sagging against Holmes, caught tight in his long arms.
-
The marquis de Carabas was waiting for us on the other side.
He stood out like the first mark of black ink on a blank page, a blemish that is the first step to a masterpiece, smug and proud, something that could speak our triumph or our ruin.
We exited the train car, all of us soldiers and warriors, and I felt that I could not possibly open my eyes wide enough.
In this place there existed nothing for miles and miles. An empty plane of whiteness - no walls, no floors, no ceilings - no ground, no trees, no sky. Beneath my feet there was something solid, yet intangible, enough to support my weight but not enough to exist. It was like wading through water above my head, water made of light, or a fog so dense that it obscured the rest of the world into a separate existence.
"Where are we?"
"The Great White City," replied the marquis, at my shoulder, a glint of familiar sardonic amusement in his voice.
"White - where? I've never heard of White City before."
"Oh, just north of Shepherd's Bush. We are still in London though, I assure you." He cocked his head, peering about, shading his eyes with his dark hand. "Well, more or less, give or take an alternative mystical dimension."
"But - but there's nothing there! That's all just farm land, I'm quite sure of it, nothing but country. And it's certainly not called White City."
"Well it's not been built yet, now has it? That's why there's nothing here. Just because something's not there yet doesn't mean it doesn't exist, Doctor." He was smiling at me, amused and superior, once again pleased with his own cleverness.
Our army looked so sad and pitiful in this endless wasteland, small and inconsequential against the backdrop of infinity. The rat speakers in their furs with their makeshift blades of glass and steel, and the earl's men in their tin hats and sturdy spears. There could not have been more than sixty - eighty at the most, but we had no concept of what the opposing force would look like.
"Oh, this will be fun." And he sounded so much like Holmes that I knew I could have loved him if I had to, not out of necessity, but from my heart. But I also knew despite whatever physical attraction he might have felt, and beyond whatever feeling of obligation and friendship he had, he would never love me the same way that Holmes did, and I was pleased that I would never harm my self, throwing my hopes against the spikes of his personality. "By the Temple and Arch, it's a good thing I brought reinforcements."
I jolted, and looked around. There had been no one but the marquis when we arrived, and I could see no extra persons aside from the ones we brought with us.
The marquis waved his hand about, brushing aside my incredulity. "They shall arrive in their own time - Lady Tür is with them, she can get them anywhere. She is the oldest child of the House of the Arch, they're openers, they do that sort of thing. Aah - and here they are now!"
He took my arm and dragged me to where several dozen people had just walked out of nothing. They were led by a tall woman, with burnished auburn hair in tight ringlets, and flashing opaline eyes. She was pale and elfin and beautiful, her cheeks a delicate shade of rose, and her classically styled dress fitting her properly in all the right places. The full skirts of her dress were layered with different fabrics that seemed incongruous, lace and moiré, wool and chiffon, like she had made it herself out of whatever material she found available.
Beside her was an Amazonian woman, perhaps the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, with skin the colour of burnt caramel and wide tawny eyes. She wore animal skins like they were her own, dappled leather patchwork in gradating shades of brown and gold and grey.
At least thirty Roman soldiers followed them, not in formation, but peering about and chatting quietly with each other in what sounded like - and must have been, upon consideration - old Latin.
The marquis had his hand on my back, and presented me to the women as if he were introducing me to the queen herself.
"Doctor, I'd like you to meet the Lady Tür, of the House of the Arch, and Hunter, the greatest in the underworld. Ladies, this is Doctor Watson, companion to Lord Sherry Vernet of the Raven's Court."
Lady Tür greeted me with a warm smile, but there was a fierceness in her prismatic eyes that bespoke of a deeper fire beneath her glass-like exterior.
"I have seen him before," Hunter spoke, her voice husky like cream and honey, a low purr that I had heard once before across the underground sea.
I bowed my head, removing my hat. "I thought you had no interest in our cause," I said, standing tall and looking her in the eyes with the respect she deserved.
"I did not," she replied, her long mane of sandy hair tumbling about her bare shoulders as she shook her head. "But my circumstances have changed. Something important has been taken from me - I could not kill the men who did it, because they were not men, though I have been informed they are compatriots to your enemy. I wish to do them harm, and take back what they stole." Holmes had joined us by that point, and stood on my other side. Hunter nodded her magnificent head to him. "Because of your gift I am willing to follow your command. You are not a warrior, but a mind, this is what I have heard, so I will be your fist."
"I am glad to have your help, Hunter," said Holmes, inclining his head as well. He took my hand and linked our fingers together.
The marquis watched me silent for a moment, and then turned his blinding white smile on the two women. "And I see you've brought the Nineteenth Legion with you, from the banks of the Kilburn River, aren't they? Yes, so good to see you. Come, come, meet the rest of the troops."
Weapons were passed out, armour tightened, frightened faces gulped down to shaking knees and facades of bravery pasted on like plasters. We stood in a rough circle, facing out so that we could see as far in the vastness of White City as our feeble eyes would let us, not knowing where the attack would come from.
Finally, after minutes, or hours, or days of standing and waiting and fearing, there was movement on the western front, so to speak, and the Professor's troops stepped up to do battle.
-
| 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<'a> |