Valiant {Book Two of the Incandescent Trilogy}

Chapter Nine: Fanning the Flames

CHAPTER NINE: FANNING THE FLAMES

"What is this?" John asked, looking about. Nothing but the skeletal frame of the house remained. Charred pieces of plastic crunched underfoot, letting out a plume of acrid ash. The home had once been great and formidable, that much he could tell. He could make out the remnants of a grand sitting room adjacent to a spacious kitchen. Scarcely anything remained of the home that had once been the most magnificent house on the street.

"A memory." said Sherrinford, nudging a charred piece of plaster. "I acquired it many years ago when the city threatened to destroy it. I knew there'd be a time when it'd be of importance once more."

"And why is it important now?"

"Because the woman you share your bed with is not the woman you believe her to be." Sherrinford stuck his hands in his pockets. "And this house is proof of it. Dr Watson, I do not mean to be blunt, but perhaps you should do a bit more research before choosing your girlfriends. You should look into Operation Red Dusk-you might find it...ah, well, interesting." Sherrinford laughed, looking down at his feet. "It's a curious sort of thing how the people you choose to love are so similar."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that Sherlock and Mary share such similar experiences. It's only natural that you fell in love with them both."

"I don't," John sputtered, "Sherlock...We're not... We never..."

Sherrinford gave him a look. "Don't be absurd. Even the landlady can see it." He took a seat on a fallen beam, not seeming to care if the ash rubbed off on his suit. He braced his chin with his hand. "Yet you don't want to admit it."

"I'm not gay!"

"No, you're not." Sherrinford said. "But Harriet is gay, Amelia is quite openly pansexual, and I wouldn't be surprised if you were at least a little bisexual."

"How do you know so much about my family?"

"As you can imagine, Doctor Watson, I've been keeping an eye on you. Also, it's quite intriguing how you did nothing to deny my previous statement." He shrugged, then clasped his hands between his wide-spread legs. "But that doesn't really matter, now does it? That's not what we have to concern ourselves about. What we do have to concern ourselves about is how we're going to deal with my brother."

"He can't be alive." John said tightly. "I saw him fall."

"And you also thought you saw him die, but we all make mistakes."

"There was blood on the pavement."

"Did you ever run a test to see if it was his blood?"

"Molly confirmed it."

"And where do you think Sherlock could have got human blood to fake his death?" Sherrinford raised an eyebrow. "Sherlock did always have a way of manipulating people."

"But let me guess: you're better."

He gave him a shark's smile, all sharp, and pointed teeth, and dead eyes. "Why of course." he said. "My siblings don't share the same...motivation as I do, and because of that, I'm faster, I'm stronger, I'm better than they are. I could burn England to the ground before my sister could lift a finger. I could assassinate the prime minister before Sherlock could even get close to me. I could throw Mycroft from the top of Big Ben before he could call for help. So, you see, Doctor Watson, I am simply more than my siblings are. You have every right to turn down my offer, to refuse to harm my brother, but I will see Sherlock dead with or without your help."

John laughed, shuffling in the spot. "You-you are joking, right?" he asked, but when he saw Sherrinford's grim expression, he knew that he wasn't. "You'd have to be insane to think I would ever lay a hand on Sherlock Holmes."