By John Pirillo
Tesla grabbed the device on his desk and at a run swiftly flew down the stairs from his office to the floor level of their warehouse, ignoring the looks of workers as he rushed past them. He reached the parking lot and hopped into Edison's Tesla.
"Just pray we're not too late!" Tesla gasped as he dropped the device between them on the front seat and the car leaped swiftly, but quietly away from the building.
Professor Challenger and Conan rode in the back of the Tesla cab, facing Lord Graystone and Lady Shereen. Everyone was dressed for combat. They knew they were in for a battle of some kind. They had wanted to warn the Inspector, but after what they learned, they skipped it. They couldn't take any chances.
"Did you get the help you sought?" Lord Graystone asked Lady Shareen.
"I did. And you?"
"I did." He uttered with finality, a hint of satisfaction on his lips.
Challenger and Conan gave them inquistive looks, but didn't press it. They each checked and double checked their weapons.
"I don't know how good these will be against those ray guns of that creature." Conan protested.
Challenger hefted his pistol. "They're physical. If they're physical they can be hurt and this baby will stop an elephant at thirty yards!"
Lord Graystone looked out his window. He knew the weapons were a baby blanket to hold onto, but he said nothing. These men were his friends, and he didn't want to rob them of what courage they had remaining in the face of this mortal enemy.
"Will Sherlock wait for us?" Lady Shareen asked Conan and Challenger.
"Not likely." Challenger growled angrily. "That man and Watson are like this." He twisted two fingers around each other."
Lord Graystone smiled. "Friendship is what makes us different from the creatures we fight...whether human or otherwise."
"I agree." Conan spoke up. "It is a Divine quality without which our lives would be cheap and worthless."
They all lapsed into silence as the cab tore down the snow sludged streets, sometimes wavering a bit as it slid on some frozen stretch, then righting again to continue.
"I'm still worried about Harry." Lady Shareen said. "No word of him?"
Challenger and Conan looked at each other. "If so." Challenger spoke up. "If so, then not to any seated here. That is plain."
"Then we must assume something bad has happened to him and maybe..." Her words caught in her throat.
Lord Graystone put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "He's a strong man, my love. It would take more than a creature such as we battle to stop him for long."
"I pray you're right." She choked out. "For if you're wrong..."
Her eyes misted and she wiped at them. "If you're wrong..."
She couldn't finish.
Tesla set his device in his lap and then flipped a toggle on its right side. It began making a humming sound. " There." He said like a parent to his child.
Edison glanced over, took a hard right and accelerated again. "Anything yet?"
"Still warming up. Come on girlie." He chided, tapping its face lightly.
"It's not a girl." Edison told him.
"You just think that." Tesla told him and gave his device a kiss.
At the same time the device began making a droning sound. His eyes lit up. "Sweet dearie, I love you!"
Edison rolled his eyes, then narrowly avoided a parked truck as he took a hard left.
Sherlock made his way through the massive, ornate gothic styled gates that closed off the entrance to Westminster Abbey. The Royal Guards who usually stood at attention at the gate were gone. He found that peculiar for a moment, then realized it fit what he suspected. He heard a sound to his left, and saw three tall men approaching. None of them spoke to each other. As they came closer he could see their eyes were lifeless and dull. They also had tiny red marks all over their arms and necks.
He stood as still as a statue, not moving. He pretended to be as lifeless as them. As they approached he felt an attention on him, some kind of odd, even remote sensation of being observed, then it passed as well as the three men. He took a deep breath of relief, then slipped through the massive gates towards the entrance. That was likely to be the best guarded portion, if there were guards at all.
But as he ascended the massive steps to the entrance, he found not a single guard anywhere. He put his hand on his weapon, which was in his jacket and kept it there...ready. He didn't want to harm anyone, but if it meant his life or theirs, he would do what he must. Watson had to come first. He would not make the same mistake he had last time. He would be ready.
Fearing a front approach might not, after all, be the best, he slipped to the right and made his way across the side of the massive structure. He could hear church music being played from inside, which intrigued him, as it wasn't a Sunday, and normally there was no music any other time. He felt it unlikely that any serious resistance would exist on the nave floor, but rather more likely in the Triforium, a medieval level within the Abbey about seventy feet up from the nave floor. It had been built during the reign of King Henry the Third during the 13th Century.
Currently, good queen Mary of Scots was planning on building a series of what she called Atlantean Galleries to honor the past of the country, when it had been first colonized by the descendants of Atlantis, who had also spread out across the Atlantic to the Americas, though not quite as decisively as the Europes.
The Triforium while seventy feet above the nave floor, was still a good hundred and fifty feet below the overarching roof of the Abbey.
He remembered the last time he visited with Watson.
"I say, Holmes, does your...uh, old home, have a place like this?"
Sherlock had looked at Watson with amusement. "Not all parallel worlds have exactly the same conditions. Our world had a mountain in this place, though a hollow one with many halls and chambers within it."
Watson nodded. "Your world was indeed different then. It must be quite a shock to you at times on this one...you know...the history, the people. Me?"
Now Watson was asking the question he knew was truly on his new friend's mind. "Watson, there could never, ever be another like you. In this world, mine or another. We are all as unique as the snowflakes that fall from heaven. And I thank God for that, for if you were as much like the one I knew and loved, then I might surely die of sorrow."
Watson put a hand on his new friend's arm. "I'm sorry if this dregs up that bloody past again for you."
Sherlock had sighed then and looked away. He knew he was not as remote as the one Watson had been used to, but he tried to be as impersonal as possible. It was hard at times, because by nature he was much more feeling that he showed on the surface, but his training as a youth had demanded he take charge of his feelings else he could never accomplish the deductive reasoning he was adhering to and adhered to.
"I'm sure we both face such at times."
Watson took his hand away and nodded. He too had demons to face. For he had lost his Sherlock in a nasty incident, much as Sherlock had lost his Watson. Strange how fate deals its cards, Sherlock had thought at the time.
Then his reminiscences were shattered by a horrible scream. Watson's!