Sherlock Holmes & The Knights Templar

Chapter 20

Sherlock followed the woman through a series of hallways, filled with artifacts that would have been worth a fortune in 21st Century London and he wondered if he could manage to sneak a few back with home, assuming he got back. As this grim thought took possession of Sherlock’s mind he frowned in irritation as the woman seductively swayed her hips, accentuating the fact that she had nothing on underneath the flimsy white gown she was wearing.

As if sensing his disapproval the woman turned around and made a pouting motion with her lips. “Sherlock, aren’t I as pretty as John? Have dinner with me, for I smell much better than John and I can guarantee that I am infinitely sweeter. Oh my, that’s right; you already know how passions with a woman work now. I remember, don’t you? Surely, you haven’t forgotten how my hand maidens and I pleasured you over and over? You were so darling begging for more and begging for mercy at the same time.”

Sherlock now faced the woman and he reached out and grabbed her by the neck, “Stop it, now, or I will choke the life out of you.”

The woman made a clucking noise of disapproval, “Sherlock, I thought we already addressed that issue, but I can see that my soft neck has mesmerized you. Come on let’s play, my God it arouses me to think of you naked at my feet in a collar.” Sherlock’s eyes widened as the pulse point in his neck began to throb. “Ah, I can see it appeals to you, doesn’t it my dearest? You would make such a cute pet; it disappoints me that I need you for something else first.”

The woman smiled mockingly as she put her hand on Sherlock’s collar bone, and then slowly like a snake, she let her fingers rest in the middle of his chest, then down to his navel, Sherlock tensed when she started to move her hand lower, she then laughed as her fingers hovered just below Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock remained passive as he attempted to disengage his attention from Irene’s swirling fingers. The woman laughed again and it reminded Sherlock of a slightly out of tune wind chime, beautiful and yet ugly at the same time and just as Sherlock thought his body would betray him the woman snatched her hand back and then sighed in pleasure. “Sherlock, you must complete your task quickly, for I want to tease you. Oh come on now don’t look so innocent, my pet, for I know your true nature, you love to be the servant. Can you see it? You hogtied at my feet, weeping in frustration as I pleasantly torture you with a riding crop, a feather and maybe even my scepter.” She purred as she turned her scepter over in her hand, making gestures with it that made the blood drain from Sherlock’s face, as he struggled to maintain his composure. “All in good time lover,” she whispered as she bit into Sherlock’s ear lobe until it bled. The woman watched Sherlock as he nobly stood at attention, not bothering to brush away the trickle of blood that ran down his ear, then his jaw, then his neck until it pooled underneath in the hollow in between his collar bones.

She then slowly walked towards Sherlock and bent her head down for a taste of the blood that had once ran warm, but was now cold. “Sherlock, you are a treat for the senses,”  and as she started to say something else, she stopped as she looked at Sherlock’s stance, for it made him look like a soldier and somehow it made her sad, for she knew that he was a hero and he was a part of John, just as much as John was a part of him and that their separation was only immaterial for they were fused  together as tightly as any ionic bond that she could think of, in another words it wouldn’t make a difference if one of them died or not. For a moment the woman felt jealous, then she felt angry, and finally she felt satisfaction, for Sherlock didn’t realize the power of the bond between him and John. However, it was no matter for by the time Sherlock realized the truth of their love bond; it would be too late, for he would like most humans would natter away his time with silly puzzles and deductions and like so many before him and after him, he would most likely discover the truth on his death bed as an old man.

Feeling a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t felt in a long while, the woman reveled in the knowledge for she realized, that knowing the truth about another, before the individual knew it themselves, was a feeling of pure power,  “The apple, the tree of knowledge,” she thought to herself. She then beckoned for Sherlock to follow her, as she opened the door to a large room that looked like a training gym. In the corner, an old man sat on the floor in a meditation stance, as a younger man in his prime trained in kata like formations with some sort of staff. Sherlock watched the man train for a few moments and he admired the man’s precision, for it didn’t take a weapon’s expert to recognize a killing strike, as the thrust of the weapon came down so forcefully that the air from it ruffled the man’s hair that was meditating.

Irene clapped her hands and the man stopped and stood to attention as the woman smiled, “Bomani, this is Sherlock, and you are to train him. You are to train him to traverse through the underworld.”

Then man’s widened in shock for a moment and then he inclined his head towards the woman. “As you wish, my divine Queen.”

Irene looked over at Sherlock, “Sherlock, welcome to Egypt.” She then bent close to Sherlock, so that only he could hear her, “Welcome to hell.”

Mycroft rounded on Isaac as Mary looked on, “Isaac, you will transport Mary and I back to Egypt, or I will have you drawn and quartered. Do you understand?” Mycroft hissed his voice low and menacing.

Isaac shrugged like a small child that didn’t have an answer for a difficult question, “Since you put it that way, I have no other choice, do I?”

Mycroft nodded and then looked over at Mary, “This could be dangerous and I wouldn’t want you to get stuck back in time somewhere.”

Mary shook her head, “No, I’m going with you. We will face whatever it is together.”

Mycroft looked down and then up and sighed, for they both knew that Mary would win out in the end.

After Isaac instructed them in the meditation sequence, they all sat down and just when Mycroft thought that nothing was happening, he felt slightly off kilter, as the colors behind his eyes, went from red, to blue, to purple, to gray, to white, then nothing. Mycroft opened his eyes and looked around in him confusion, May sat next to him with the same expression on her face, as two servant girls carried clothing to them and then a voice that sounded chillingly familiar spoke from the doorway, “Welcome Mycroft and oh I see you have brought a playmate,” the woman said as she stood before Mary, “So, what name are you going by these days Marguerite, Dauphine, oh that’s right, it’s Mary isn’t it?”

Mary looked at the woman with unveiled contempt, “You know very well I am going by Mary.”

The woman made a clucking disapproval sound with her tongue, “Now, Mary where are your manners? After all it’s been so long, and well it really is no way to great your sister is it?”

Mycroft openly gaped as he stared at Mary, “Mary, your sister is Irene Adler?”