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The Case of the Magical Slimeballs

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Summary: Sherlock was proud (and justly so) of his ability to deduce everything about anyone in just one glance. But there's only so much you can deduce about a magical ball of slime.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Literature > Crime > Sherlock HolmesEnergyBeingFR131017,55423311,3478 May 1315 Jul 13Yes

Chapter Ten

Dawn blinked. Just a second ago, she'd cut her palm and spilled her blood into Sherlock's open mouth.

Now, she was several feet away from Sherlock, who was no longer encased in magic slime. Neither was Willow, for that matter. And Dawn's palm wasn't even cut any more.

"What happened?" Dawn asked suspiciously. She hoped that Sherlock would answer - if he didn't, that would be a good indication that he was actually Amy.

"It worked." Sherlock said wonderingly. "It actually worked."

"What did?" Dawn asked again. Sherlock's statement didn't necessarily have to have been an answer to her question. It could've just been a general statement.

"I moved the labyrinth." Sherlock answered. "She doesn't know the way through anymore, so she's trapped."

"How?" Willow said. There was something... different. It could just have been Amy's binding being removed from her, but she felt powerful. More powerful than she had felt for a long while. More powerful than she'd felt since she had gone dark, all those years ago. "I couldn't do a thing to that labyrinth, and you don't even have magic. So how did you do it?"

"I was the Key." Sherlock replied. "When Dawn put her blood in my mouth, I overloaded. I became the Key, and Amy got her own body, thanks to the excess magic in the atmosphere caused by the explosion. By me exploding."

Dawn opened her mouth, then shut it again. She hadn't told Sherlock about being the Key. He couldn't have known about it.

Willow looked around theatrically. "Maybe there was an explosion for ants, but I can't see any evidence of it. And you look strikingly un-exploded."

Sherlock sighed. "Most of Britain was destroyed, actually, and nearly everyone on Earth died. But I fixed it. And myself, too."

"Oh, boy." Dawn whistled. "They'd better not start saying that they were ripped out of heaven. If everyone on Earth went all PTSD on us, that would be an apocalypse right there."

"Well, you aren't, so that would suggest that no one else will either." Sherlock pointed out.

Willow puzzled through what Sherlock was saying. Her first instinct was that his story was so blatantly absurd as to be untrue, but then it wouldn't explain how he knew about the Key. "But the Key opens dimensional portals." Willow mused aloud. "It's not capable of mass ressurection and world rebuilding."

"Oh, it is." Sherlock said, massaging his temples. The memories (if they could even be called that, belonging as they did to a ball of energy) of the Key before it had become Dawn were pulsing through his head. "It has virtually limitless power, but it can't be used on this plane of existence. Like Amy, it needed a vessel, and taking a vessel effectively bound its power. Without a massive amount of magic in the atmosphere, the Key can't use it's full power."

"Oh." Dawn said, looking down at her hands.

"So you've ressurected basically everyone in in the UK, rebuilt the entire country and trapped Amy in the labyrinth in your head. Anything else?" Willow asked drily.

"I also ressurected nearly every human and rebuilt virtually every settlement in the world. When I exploded, every person with the capability for using magic died too." Sherlock added.

At that moment, Illyria and Buffy burst into the room. "I sensed a vast magical disturbance." Illyria said imperiously "You will tell me what is going on."

"Yeah, Blue just swept me up and dragged me along." Buffy complained. "Would you mind explaining why?"

Sherlock told them the same story that he'd told Dawn and Willow, although they provided a little backstory about Amy's appearance. Buffy looked increasingly skeptical, but Illyria merely said "Why are Dawn's eyes now green?"

Sherlock didn't immediately look at Dawn, although everyone else in the room did. He had already noticed. Dawn though, scrabbled frantically for a mirror to see her new eyes.

"I had to remake the citizens of London from the imprints they left on a city I made. It's hardly surprising that there are a few small changes." Sherlock replied. "And I wouldn't be surprised if there were changes elsewhere in the world too - you know, tales of miraculous healings and the like."

"Huh. Well, anyway, Dawn, welcome to the club." said Willow, clapping the younger woman on the shoulder. "They suit you."

In Sherlock's pocket, his phone buzzed. Sherlock, my leg now miraculously has no scar. It works fine, too. Anything to do with you? John.

Sherlock texted back rapidly. Come to school. All will be explained. SH. Aloud, he said "Is it alright if my roommate pays a visit? A troubling leg injury of his has vanished, and he wants to know why."

"You've just told him he could come, didn't you?" Dawn guessed correctly.

"Yes, of course." Sherlock replied. "I was going to tell him all about it anyway, so he may as well be made aware of what's going on here."

Buffy fluttered a hand. "Fine, fine, I'll tell the security guards to let him in when he comes."

At that moment, Mycroft began to stir. Illyria, being the closest to the unconscious man, bent down to see whether he was alright. Or, failing that, possessed by an evil witch. Illyria suspected that she would have the best chance of defeating her if that was the case.

Mycroft opened his eyes. "My, I didn't know angels came in blue." he said, somewhat groggily.

"I am not an angel. I am the God-King of the Primordium." Illyria replied stiffly.

"Of course you are." Mycroft said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had an awful headache. "Sorry, I'm not my usual self at the moment. You must be Illyria."

"That is correct." Illyria said.

Dawn walked over to Sherlock. "If I were you, I'd never fail to remind your brother of the time when he called Illyria an angel." she said out of the corner of your mouth.

"I'm not that cruel." Sherlock replied. Then his mouth quirked up in a smile. "I'll only remind him about it every couple of days."

Suddenly, without warning, a portal opened in the middle of the room. Everyone instantly took up guarded postures, which they promptly relaxed when they saw an eye-patched man and a young brunette step through.

"Xander, what are you doing here?" Willow asked. "And Marie, how come you portalled here? I didn't think you were that strong of a witch."

Sherlock surmised Xander to be Alexander Harris, the only member of the SAWC's Board of Directors not to have a photograph on the website. Sherlock guessed that she must be somewhat touchy about the eyepatch. Or, more likely, the SAWC didn't want to show directly the chance of injury that accompanied a role as a Slayer or Watcher.

"I've been receiving reports from my Slayers out in the field. Apparently bunches of demons they were fighting suddenly died, and vamp nests they raided were filled with ash. Then Andrew called me and said the same thing was happening at his end, so I thought I'd check in here and see if we've got some new threat on our hands." Xander replied.

"And you're right, Will. I'm not powerful enough for a portal. But something's happened in the last half an hour to lead to an increase in the global level of magic. Everyone's more powerful." Marie answered.

Everyone turned to Sherlock (except for Xander and Marie, who didn't know who he was) who shrugged. "I didn't ressurect any demons or vampires. And how was I supposed to know what the global level of magic should be? I lowered it as much as I could."

Xander stared at him, before saying to Buffy "Buff? Make with the splainy, please. 'cause it sounds like this guys saying he's decimated the demon and vampire population."

Buffy repeated Sherlock's story, and the others filled in the gaps. Meanwhile, Faith showed up with John in tow. They too listened incredulously to the story.

While they did that, Dawn said "Spike? What about Spike? Is he okay?"

"If you have injured my pet, I will rip out your lungs and feed them to you." Illyria said ominously.

Sherlock threw up his hands defensively. "He's fine. Everyone in London is fine, even the vampires and demons. I had the ressurect everyone."

Then Buffy finished filling in Xander, Faith and John, and everyone began to bombard Sherlock with questions, John walked up to Xander. "So, is the eyepatch real, or are you just pretending to be a pirate?"

"Only my friends are allowed to make pirate jokes." Xander replied. "And it's real, thanks."

"Right, right." said John, nodding. "It's just that my leg injury suddenly healed not half an hour ago, and I was wondering whether that might not be the case with your eye."

Xander fought down the sudden surge of hope. He'd gotten used to having no depth perception over the years, but still, having his eye back... tentatively, gingerly, he removed the eyepatch.

His eye watered. His other eye, the one that he'd had for about half an hour and not even known about. Xander smile widely, as he saw the room in all it's glorious depth. "Tell you what." Xander said "Now you can make all the pirate jokes you like."

"Hey, Xan! You've got eyes!" Faith remarked.

"I do. Faith, you want to grab a coffee sometime?" Xander asked euphorically.

"I thought you'd never ask." Faith replied with a grin. Sherlock noticed that John looked disappointed.

"You'd have dated a one-eyed man?" Xander asked in some surprise.

"I'd have dated a one-eyed Xander." Faith clarified, to much applause.

"Wait." said Willow, heart in her mouth. "If Xander has his eye back, does that mean..." she couldn't bring herself to say the rest of her sentence.

"Yes, Kennedy's fine." Sherlock assured. "I healed her myself."

Willow dissapeared in a flash of light, only to reappear moments later with (a perfectly healthy and conscious) Kennedy in her arms. Willow kissed her deeply, to more applause.

Everyone knew that it would take some time to adjust to the substantially lower amounts of vampires and demons, but, for now, they just wanted to celebrate the aversion of another apocalypse. And the return of Kennedy and Xander's eye.


Elsewhere in London, Moriarty looked in a mirror.

His irises had always been dark brown, almost black in a certain light. They'd blended seamlessly with his pupils.

They didn't anymore. Not because Moriarty's irises were a different colour. But because his pupils were. They were white. Moriaty rather liked the effect. It was nice and menacing.

Moriarty, unlike Sherlock, had known about the existence of the supernatural for quite some time. And he knew that something of great power must be behind this change - and not only this change, but the numerous others that his network was reporting even now.

Moriarty wanted that power, and he would do anything to get it.

The End

You have reached the end of "The Case of the Magical Slimeballs". This story is complete.

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