Daily Creativity for Game of Cards -- The To Do List

[catko]

We are to post something creative every day for 20 days, so I'm going to continue to work on this fic crossover / silly thing that I do from time to time.



Background: Giles brings the Slayerettes to London after the fall of Sunnydale, and they get involved with the Sherlock crew. They're drawn into an investigation of a series of supposed serial killings which might be vampires, or might be something else entirely. Mycroft has come to the Watchers’ Council, as has his distant cousin, Sean Renard, lately of the Portland Police Department, currently in England following a lead—among other things.

Mycroft Holmes and Sean Renard, unlikely cousins only partially aligned in the debate/discussion at the Watchers' Council, re-took their seats with the others to resume the sparring. Currently at issue was whether the Council should act at all in the matter of the mysterious bodies being found, half-drained of blood, in multiple places across Greater London. Conservative to the last, and in any case more or less in hiding, the Council was a decided "no" on the issue. "If there is no evidence of vampirism, it simply is not our concern," expostulated Senior Hargreaves. "Bloodless corpses can scarcely be said to be 'no evidence,'" rejoined Mycroft, his typically deceptive mildness tinged with irritation.

Renard cleared his throat and gestured to his second, Sergeant Wu, whom he had brought along from Portland. Wu proferred a large binder, which Renard laid on the table and slowly opened. "The Family might have an alternate explanation," he said smoothly, as he turned a page. "But I warn you, it might be disturbing."

Comments

#2

[catko]

The assemblage cleared their throats, looked from side to side, and neared the table where Renard was seated--all united (for once) with a single thought: After what they had all seen in their lifetimes, being dedicated vampire hunters, secret government agents, and American police officers, what on earth or otherwise could possibly be said to disturb them? (54 words)

#3

[catko]

Mycroft schooled his expression as he observed his cousin prepare to speak. As he had little investment in the information about to be imparted--he was only here as an adviser, after all, with no role other than authority to play--he was able to scan his distant relative for signs of strain, change, or other occurrences since they last met, what was it, oh, four years ago?

#4

[catko]

*****
For his part, Renard was having similar considerations. Certainly, the gravity of the matter at hand should be enough to absorb all thought, but even as he prepared to unveil a discreet portion of the Wesen Credo, he too was considering the more personal aspects of the situation. Strange that it would take this, a potential disaster of near world-wide--or should it be underworld-wide--proportion to broker a truce between the long disparate sides of his clan.

#5

[catko]

As the two blood-linked power brokers considered their mutual history, Sergeant Drew Wu of the Portland Police Department stepped away from his superior's seated form at the long table, and stood at discreet attention. His professionally-schooled, calm yet alert visage did not betray his inner voice, which was basically shouting, "Holy crap, what is going on here and how did I get mixed up in it??"

#6

[catko]

It had been a strange set of circumstances leading to Wu's involvement, but it had become commonplace, once he was clued in to his city's, shall we call it, mytharc, for the Captain to use him rather as a confidante. So, when the boss needed a second to accompany him to England, who better?

[catko]

Still, he'd had little warning of what they would be getting into. He'd rather pictured more of a cross-jurisdiction consultation. But not this--huge stone mansion, secret entry codes, stuffy Brits talking calmly about unheard of events. He thought he'd seen it all in Portland, but this? Actual vampires?

And on top of it, the Boss's cousin. What would be next?

[catko]

...Meanwhile, back in the heart of London. an even stranger amalgam of humans was arrayed. Having arrived in several separate and mutually-unaware contingents, the Scoobies, Sherlock and John, and old pals Rupert Giles and Greg Lestrade were all centering around the scene of the latest in the series of murders that were shocking London: the ones with the corpses half-drained of their blood.

[catko]

Buffy had just snatched the copy of the London Times from Willow's hand and hustled after Sherlock, stooping under the crime tape just as he had. The others stood a bit awkwardly, having completed some quick introductions, all sharing that odd feeling of both shock and familiarity. "Well, I suppose we might as well...." John said diffidently, gesturing down the path that ran by the side of the Tennis Club entrance. The others nodded and proceeded along, all accepting that they were in this, whatever it was, together.

[catko]

Inspector Lestrade, aware that he was the only one with official standing, hastened after Sherlock and Buffy to keep an eye on the crime scene. John found himself walking in stride with Rupert Giles, who was looking around, blinking and, yes, grinning. "Enjoying yourself?" asked John, pleasantly. Giles looked at him, a bit sheepishly. "Inappropriate given the circumstances, I daresay, but...yes, yes I am. Being back in London, adventure..." he raised his eyebrows for emphasis and John barked out a hearty laugh.

[catko]

John nodded, and had a moment of appreciation for what seemed to be a nice bloke, relatively normal, especially considering what he had become accustomed to, of late. Like Lestrade, right, and no surprise that the two were old chums. On impulse, he clapped the man's tweedy shoulder. "No harm in that, mate," he said warmly, and Giles favored him with a pleased smile.

[catko]

Meanwhile, Dawn, Xander, and Willow trailed behind the two men, caught up as they were in looking around themselves at London. "Kind of a change of pace, investigating a scene in broad daylight," mused Xander. "Maybe our luck is turning." Dawn knocked against his shoulder. "Oh, Xander. You're the only one who can see a daytime serial killing scene as 'good luck.'"

[catko]

Xander shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets as they trailed after John and Giles, who were talking animatedly about, it seemed, something called "Chelsea." "Just be glad, ladies. A mere hour ago, I didn't want to leave the hotel room. Ever. Now here I am, with great enthusiasm, facing--UGH" as they rounded the corner off the cobblestone path to see a chalk outline of an outstretched figure on the ground, with Giles, John, and Lestrade standing over it, and Buffy and Sherlock roaming beyond.

[catko]

He instinctively spread his arms as though to shield Willow and Dawn from the sight, and then grinned ruefully as he realized how silly that was, after all they had seen and done together over the years. Still, there was something especially gruesome about seeing a "normal" crime scene in broad daylight.

# 15

[catko]

Meanwhile, each in their own way, Sherlock and Buffy were prowling the area--Sherlock, bent forward, nose and eyes searching; Buffy, scanning the perimeter, looking for larger signs of physical activity, perhaps to determine entrance and egress to the scene by either victim or perpetrator. Eventually, in their separate circumnavigations, they both pulled up to a wooden door, seemingly out of use, set into a concrete wall at the back of the garden.

#16

[catko]

They stared at each other for a moment, then reached simultaneously for the rusted iron handle. "'Ere, hold up!" called out Lestrade. "You can't go touching everything, this is an open crime scene." He gestured around at the caution tape.

Rolling their eyes as one, they turned toward him with outstretched hands. Lestrade fumbled in his coat pockets, pulled out a handful of latex gloves, and strode over to where the two were standing. "Careful, now, right?"

#17

[catko]

The unlikely duo of Buffy and Sherlock moved in concert: snapping on the rubber gloves and again reaching for the rusted handle set in the scarred wood of the seemingly disused door. Sherlock put up a warning finger and leaned closer to the door lock, staring intently and nodding. In this brief delay, Buffy stood poised for action.

[catko]

As the others, oddly assorted lot, stood watching behind, with Buffy poised like a bodyguard, Sherlock leaned, sniffed, thought, and sniffed again. Then he turned and straightened, coat whirling out around him, eyes alight. "Just as we suspected, the perpetrator is using the defunct Tube walkways to maneuver around the City," he proclaimed. "And I suspect some sort of drug activity--a distinct smell of ethyl ether, well known as an ingredient in making me--"

#19

[catko]

"Ether!?" Giles was startled out of his reverie, looking happily at the London sky. He strode up, scanned the area around the door, and looked alarmed. "I have an idea," he said, as he gestured toward Willow, waving her forward. "Take out that infernal device and look this up," he muttered, as Willow reached for her mobile phone."Dearg-du. Celtic. Female."

#20

[catko]

*****
"Well, this is certainly unfortunate," said Mycroft mildly, as Renard's hand ranged over the drawings in the notebook. "Dearg-du. Challenging." "We prefer the family name," interposed Renard smoothly. "Blutsaugen. And yes, the only wesen to be uni-gender. Does add a degree of difficulty, for various reasons."

****

Comfortably ensconced in the black car, heading back to the Council building from a leisurely if not entirely high-quality luncheon, Anthea stared at her Blackberry with a dawning realization. "Dear-dears," she murmured, reading. "Historic clan, female gang. Known to drain their victims' blood. Well, that certainly will present a problem."