The Labyrinth of London
For My Kingdom Is As Great
A Sherlock/Labyrinth Crossover
"The Thin White Sleuth…"
Summary: There are many worlds in which tales take place. In this one, our heroes have their adventures in Victorian London as a sinister, undead force walks the earth. Victorian AU. J/S. JAM. Sherlolly.
The Almighty Disclaimer
Oh Moffat and Gatiss,
Henson and Doyle,
To you belongs all the characters
And none so for me!
A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth…" by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.
Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan.
Taken from A Study in Scarlet by Mr. Ithel Williams. Published in 1884 by The Strand.
The second Afghan War brought honors and promotion to many, but for me it meant nothing but misfortune and disaster. I came to England with my health irretrievably ruined and my future bleak. I did not have enough money to finance my trip home to the United States. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are drained. It was there that I met Dr. Stamford, a man I had corresponded with over medical matters during my time abroad. I mentioned to him during one of our conversations my need for decent, affordable housing for a somewhat odd tenant. It was then he mentioned I was the second person who had said such to him in that day.
He introduced me to Mr. Jareth King, a man of dubious reputation due to his detecting skill. We hit it off immediately. I took a room in 221B Baker Street and began soon after investigating strange cases.
But here's what really happened.
Sarah discreetly adjusted her beard as Stamford had turned the corner. It was an itchy, but necessary precaution. She was getting older and claiming not to have stubble due to her age was becoming less and less plausible.
After they had entered the underground mortuary, the two "gentlemen" passed by a room where a man violently flogged a corpse with a riding crop.
"Good Lord!" Sarah exclaimed.
Stamford seemed undisturbed by this. "It's an experiment, apparently. Beating corpses to establish how long after death bruising is still possible."
Sarah tilted her head in curiosity for a moment before limping forward. "Is there a medical point to that?"
"Neither am I. So, where's this friend of yours?"
Stamford stopped and tilted his head towards the room with the man flogging the corpse. Williams sighed.
Of course it would be the insane man.
Stamford entered the room first. "Excuse me!"
The blonde gentlemen continued beating the corpse.
Sarah said, "I do hope we're not interrupting. I'm Mr. Ithel Williams"
The man stopped mid swing. He spun around and smiled, showing his pointed teeth. Sarah nearly fainted and hoped her disguise would protect her.
"Good afternoon, Mister Williams," Jareth said.
DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!
"You've been in Afghanistan, I perceive," Jareth said as he spun back around. He smacked a pocket watch. "Damn things never work around me."
"You two have met?" Stamford said.
"Indeed," Jareth said. Without turning around he tossed his walking stick to Sarah who caught it without blinking.
"You still have excellent reflexes. You'll do," Jareth said.
"What?" Sarah said softly, her voice cracking.
Jareth put on his coat. "I rent a suite of rooms near Regent's Park. Between us we could afford them."
"Rooms? How did you… never mind. I won't room with you."
"We'll finalize the details tomorrow evening. I am sure you have some friends you wish to speak this over with. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hanging in Wandsworth and I'd hate them to start without me."
"A hanging?" Sarah said.
"I take a professional interest. I also play the piano and smoke a pipe. I presume that's not a problem?"
"And you're clearly acclimatized to never getting to the end of a sentence. We'll get along splendidly. Tomorrow evening, seven o'clock, then. You can just call on Jareth King at two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street." Jareth swooped out of the room.
When Jareth reached the outside, he inhaled deeply the stinking air of London. What a glorious day this is.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. As he turned, he received a fist to his face knocking him flat on his back. A walking stick was placed at his throat.
"What game are you playing at?" Sarah growled.
"None. I am your best option for having a safe place to stay," Jareth said, "Do you mind if I stand up? I would rather my suit not be stained."
"No. Why did you play along?"
"Because there are only two reasons a woman would dress as a man. The first is to do a job only for a man. The second is to protect herself. As you do not mind being slightly eccentric, the first is out. That leaves the second."
"And how could I possibly be safe with you?"
"Ask your friends. I would never harm you. I know your secret and you know mine. We are at an impasse. If any man were to lay a hand on you, even myself, I would rip them limb from limb and stick HIS head on top of the gates of London."
Sarah removed the walking stick from Jareth's throat. "Fae cannot lie."
Jareth stood up. "No, we cannot."
"I still will not stay under the same roof as you. You're more likely to be able to persuade me to marry you than for me to stand to be so near a villain like you."
Jareth winked. "I'll take those odds."
A/N: Welcome back to The Labyrinth of London! This will not be a complete rehash of the episode, so those of you who have not watched it should do so now.