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Dark Rituals	By : MarianTheBlackadder Category: S through Z > Sherlock Holmes (2009) > Sherlock Holmes (2009) Views: 3326 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I in no way own any rights to or make any profit from Sherlock Holmes the book, the movie, or any other medium concerning these characters. This is a non-profit story for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter List
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Disengaged
            “Tell me again why we’re here if the case is closed?” Sherlock said with his hands in his pockets and his cap pulled down over his eyes. Watson glanced at him as they followed the Sergeant.
            “Because our presence was requested. Isn’t that what we do? The Yard calls us and we go where we are needed?” Watson observed.
            “Except, Blackwood was executed yesterday. You pronounced him dead. The man is well in his grave. Why are we kicking over stones now? It’s a little late don’t you think?” Sherlock said having a harsh hangover from his activities and drinking from the night before
            “Lady Blackwood wasn’t seen at any time during the trial, and she didn’t even show up to the execution. It was cause for concern that she may have been a victim as well. According to the officers . . . they’ve found her.” Watson said having been appraised of the situation before he woke Holmes out of his deep and alcohol induced sleep.
            The two men were lead into the Blackwood Manor and up the large staircase. It was an incredibly gothic looking house, somewhat dreary and imposing in its design and architecture. His family was an incredibly wealthy one, even though his parentage was kept an unspoken secret since he was very young.
            “Like to intimidate his guests did he.” Sherlock commented as they were led to a large pair of double doors. LaStrade was waiting for them at the door as he instructed a few of his officers on a few tasks he wanted seen to.
            “It’s about time you got here. We’ve been here for two hours already.” He said.
            “It is rather early in the morning for this, don’t you think?” Sherlock said back.
            “Some of us are never really off the clock.” Lastrad said.
            “Found another body to add to Blackwood’s tally have we?” Sherlock said as he and Watson where taken into the double doors. It was dark, except for a few candles that had been lit so they could see.
            “Not quite.” LaStrad said as he pulled back the black curtain on the bed revealing a young woman. Both Sherlock and Watson stepped in closer a little taken back by the scene that was before them.
            The young woman, was without a doubt Lady Katherine Blackwood. She was incredibly young, and some thought far too young to be married considering Lord Blackwood’s age being twice what hers was. She was quiet, and often simply accompanied Blackwood to social gatherings on his arm. She was polite, but somewhat withdrawn was how many would describe their interactions with the couple.
            Now, she was laid out in the manner of a guest of honor at a wake. Her hands were at her sides, she was in a black nightgown with crimson ribbons and her hair was done beautifully with some dark colored roses that had begun to wilt slightly showing they had been there for a day or two. Her skin was very pale, but she was obviously still alive from the rise and fall of her chest.
            “Good Lord.” Watson said quickly moving to her side and putting his fingers to her wrist to find a pulse and then to her throat to see how she was doing. “She’s very cold.” He said touching her face.
            “The current consensus is that she tried to kill herself and missed the mark, overcome with grief at her husbands impending death.” Lastrad said.
            “No.” Sherlock said standing on the otherside of the bed opposite of Watson who continued to check her vital signs.
            “You think this is something else?” LaStrad asked.
            Sherlock leaned in closer taking her cold hand in his noting the ring on her finger. It was a ladies ring, but at the same time it matched the one that Blackwood wore that bore the symbol of the occult order he headed for a brief time after he caused the death of his father. “Here,” Watson said showing the marks on the inside of her arm and another on her neck. “It would be easy to assume this was suicide except for the fact she didn’t make these marks herself. She’s been injected with some sort of substance to induce a deep sleep.” He said. “These ones were made perhaps a day or two ago, but this was made today.”
            “Someone seems to want her to stay put, and make her extremely easy to handle.” Holmes said looking at Watson.
            “It’s damn stupid.” Watson said annoyed. “A girl in her condition, it could have killed her.”
            “Her condition?” LaStrad asked, not having been aware that Watson had seen her before now, considering no one did.
            Sherlock reached up and pulled the linens off of her body revealing the rest of her nightgown and the swell that was beginning to appear at her abdomen. “Their condition would be a more accurate description.”
            LaStrad stepped closer his eyes wide. “Maybe this is why she wasn’t at the trial or execution. She didn’t want it known that she was carrying his child. Or Blackwood didn’t want it known.” He said.
            “Unlikely.” Watson said, “It’s still early on all she needed to do was wear a dress and her cloak to conceal this. No one would have been the wiser.” He said. “It’s possible that she wasn’t permitted out of her home when it was found she was pregnant.”
            “No one lives here except her and their servants. Blackwood has no family of his own, who would be able to put such restrictions on her, especially since she’s now his widow.” LaStrad said.
            “His followers, more than likely.” Watson said.
            Sherlock was quiet as he walked around the room looking at various things, picking up little trinkets he thought might be useful as he went along. “Although it does beg the question of why she wasn’t allowed to attend his execution or even visit him before he was marched to the gallows.” Holmes said.
            “Maybe they didn’t wish to upset her.” Watson suggested.
            “Maybe.” Sherlock answered.
            “Well how about it?” LaStrad said trying to move things along. “What’s her condition?”
            “I think it’s best that she be moved to hospital straight away. So she can be looked after and cared for properly until she wakes up.” He suggested.
            “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” LaStrad said. “As far as many are concerned including religious groups all over London . . . this girl was married to the devil himself. If the fact that she’s carrying his child gets out, she’ll be in even more danger then she already is.”
            “Good point.” Watson said. “She can’t stay here. Whoever has done this to her has to check on her at least a few times a day. They’ll be back. Although it might be a golden opportunity to catch them, it won’t help her or the baby to be used as bait.”
            “What do you suggest then, doctor?” Watson thought for moment before he and Holmes looked at each other.

House Guests
            “Very ingenious of you.” Sherlock said as he walked pass Watson who was monitoring the young woman who now lay in the large bed of the spare room in the boarding house they now lived in. “Sneaking her out of the house under a blanket so people would think her dead. It’ll be interesting to see how they react when she to rises from the grave and returns to life.”
            “Except she’s not really dead, and it’s for her own safety. Religious and cult fanatics alike are both teaming with idiots that would harm her and the baby just because of who she was married to. I find it unlikely that she had any choice in the matter.” He admitted pulling the covers back over her.
            “She is very young.” Sherlock said, “I find it interesting that out of all the women in the world, Blackwood seemed to pluck out a girl with no family or living relatives to be his wife.” He leaned over Watson slightly observing the sleeping girl. “Even though she is breathtakingly beautiful. Extremely well developed for her age I think.” He said.
            “Well who in their right mind would agree to grant their daughters hand to a man like, Blackwood?” Watson said. “With his reputation being what it is, and all this publicity around his arrest and trial . . . anyone who hadn’t heard of him before certainly has heard of him now.”
            “How far along do you suppose she is, Watson?” Sherlock asked as he cleaned his pipe.
            “She’s barely starting to show, so I’d say maybe four months. No more than five.” He said.
            “So she was already pregnant when Blackwood was arrested.” Holmes did the math.
            “I’d say just so. She probably didn’t even know yet when he was incarcerated.” Watson answered.
            “Well we can’t be completely certain that its Blackwood’s anyway, can we.” He took her hand and showed Watson the ring that sat there. “She’s obviously apart of the order, she could be a practitioner as well.”
            “I’d have a hard time believing that it wasn’t Blackwood’s. She was under constant watch and even lock and key at times according to eyewitnesses and people who had met them. Not to mention the orphanage that she was taken from was a convent with extremely strict moral codes. I would be extremely surprised if it wasn’t.”
            “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and get it right from the horse’s mouth. Any sign of when she might wake so we can talk to her?” He asked.
            “A few more hours maybe. I dare not try to wake her before the chemicals have worked out of her system, it might cause damage or hinder her body’s ability to keep itself alive.” Watson said.

Take it Slow
            The young woman’s eyes opened as they looked about. She didn’t recognize the ceiling that was above her and thought it strange. When she saw that, she immediately knew she wasn’t in her own bedroom as she had been. Pulling herself up on her elbows she looked around in confusion. Then, the door of the room opened and in walked Watson with a tray. “Well, Good morning.” He said putting the tray down on the bedside table. She started to move to get up and he quickly moved over placing his hand on her shoulder to lay back down. “Take it easy. You’ve been immobilized for a few days, and you might be a bit disoriented.” He said.
            “What is this place.” She said in a soft whisper. Watson sat down next to her and poured a glass of water before holding it up for her to drink. Her mouth was exceedingly dry and her throat matched it in kind.
            “You are in one of the spare rooms, at the boarding house I live at.” He answered insisting that she drink a bit more. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor. Scotland yard requested that I be the one to look after you as you’re situation requires special consideration.”
            Now that she had a few moments to wake up, he helped her sit upright and put some pillows behind her back so that she could. He poured her another glass of water and insisted she drink. “You’re very dehydrated. You need to drink as much fluids as you can.” He explained.
            “Special consideration?” She said taking the glass and drinking it slowly.
            Watson looked at her a moment and realized there might be some things she didn’t know or didn’t realize. She had been in this state since before Blackwood was executed. It might not have occurred to her yet that he was dead. “Yes.” He said not entirely sure how to approach it. “It was thought best to keep you hidden away from the media and reports and the like.” He said. “For your sake and the sake of your child.”
            She looked down at herself before looking up at the doctor. He seemed to know an awful lot about her. “How long have I been asleep?” She asked seriously.
            “Um. I don’t know.” Watson said. “Do you know when you were last awake?” He asked.
            “I was eating dinner. Friday the 7^th.” She said.
            Indeed, she was unaware then that Blackwood’s hanging had already taken place the following day. He cleared his throat slightly, hating to be the barer of bad news but she had to be told. “Today is the Tuesday the 11^th.” He said.
            Katherine seemed to fall quiet for a moment as her eyes turned downcast. “He’s . . . gone then.” She said in almost a whisper.
            “Yes.” He confirmed. “I was the attending physician at his . . . execution.” The words seemed harsh as they rolled over his tongue and he regretted saying them, but what else could he do.
            “Did he say nothing of wanting to see me?” She asked still looking downward.
            “Not that I’m aware of.” He admitted. “I’m sorry.”
            After a few more moments she just gave a nod and reached up wiping her eyes in case any tears had welled up that might fall. “Have I been placed into custody then?” She asked.
            “Protective custody, yes. For now.” He said. “Just until the frenzy the population was thrown into dies down a bit. Is there someplace you can go? Another estate away from London perhaps?” He asked.
            She shook her head a little. “No. Henry was the only family I had. Even if it was by marriage.” She said softly. Watson wasn’t sure what to make of her reactions. She seemed a little aggrieved at the news of her husbands death and her missing the last chance there was to see him. Yet there also seemed to be . . . relief in her body as well. As if she was able to relax a small bit when she heard he was gone.
            “I’m afraid . . . we didn’t have many friends.” She admitted.
            “Lady Blackwood,” He said calling her attention to him needing to dive into details. “Do you know why this was done to you? Who did it to you?” He asked.
            She thought for a moment before shaking her head, “No.” Was all she said in a simple answer to the question. “One moment I was eating dinner . . . the next moment I was waking up here, in your home.”
            “You don’t seem to shocked or dismayed by this,” He said cocking his head slightly.
            She sighed a little her eyes moving downcast again. “I’ve grown accustomed to strange things.” It was another simple and short answer that also was quite vague in its meaning.
            It was enough for now. Once she was more awake and had had time to adjust, they could continue this conversation. “Here,” He said opening the cover of the plate that was on the tray. “Our land lady fixed this especially for you. You must be hungry and you need to regain your strength.” He said. Standing from the bed he moved the tray to her lap and gave her a napkin and the utensils. “Your legs may be a bit numb from lack of movement, so don’t try to get up until I return. Alright?”
            She nodded a little in agreement satisfying Watson.

What Are the Facts?
            “Not exactly acting like the bereaved widow is she.” Sherlock observed.
            “You said it yourself, the man’s reputation was well known. How would it be for a woman who was living with him?” Watson said.
            “What of the ring?” Holmes asked. “Did you inquire about it?”
            “Yes. Blackwood gave it to her. She admits to being part of some rituals and ceremonies but her participation was strictly by Blackwood’s direction. As the wife of the head of the order, she was needed in some of their practices. But she doesn’t know everything about it and certainly didn’t attend their meetings.” The doctor answered. “Her color and appetite have returned, and she talks easier to me now.” There was a moment of silence before Watson sighed, “No I still don’t’ think it’s a good idea that you speak with her at all. You don’t exactly have the most charming way about you.”
            “How am I supposed to solve this puzzle without all the pieces?” Holmes said. “She has answers to questions that I need to be asking and although you are now her primary and sole physician she’s still in custody.”
            “Protective custody.” Watson corrected and reminded his college. “Which means we don’t harangue her about her family situation when she had little or rather no choice in the matter.”
            “How old is she again?” Holmes asked.
            “Almost 17.” Watson said in a low voice with a twinge of disgust that Blackwood had taken her as a wife at all.
            “So a young woman at the age of 16, who is carrying what the newspapers would call the son of the devil himself . . . and you think that not asking questions is going to simply make all that disappear?” Sherlock pointed out.
            “I just think she’s been through more than her fair share. That’s all.” Watson said looking back into the newspaper he was reading. “The time she’s had here with us is probably the first time in ages she’s had any privacy of her own without people watching her constantly, and dictating her every move.”
            “That’s not quite right, you check on her often and you insist that I avoid her entirely.” Holmes said lighting his pipe. “She and I are going to have to have a conversation sooner or later if we are to get anywhere with this case.”
            “As her doctor I think she is entitled to a little more time. They were married for over a year and she’s been in the thick of all of his crimes and sins. Even though I’m sure there is relief of his departure she needs time to grieve. He was the father of her child after all.” Watson said continuing to make his case on her behalf.
            “Lastrad says that if we are going to make any headway with this using what she knows, we had better do it soon. His superiors are asking questions as to her whereabouts and it won’t take them long to trace it back to here.” Sherlock said.
            “Maybe we could move her somewhere more remote and away from the city. Somewhere where people aren’t in the thick of all the media and gossip that flies around so quickly.” He thought for a moment, “Didn’t you tell me once that your brother has an estate in the country?”
            “Yes, but it’s his estate not a halfway house for young pregnant women.” Sherlock said coldly.
            “That’s not what she is. She was properly married when the child was conceived and made a widow before her condition was known. I’m sure you can see in how many ways her safety is compromised. The best thing for her to do would be to go away for a while. Not to mention we and only we would know her whereabouts should we need her for more information.” Watson explained.
            “My brother and I are on formal speaking terms only at the moment.” Sherlock said. “He’s a pompous know it all.” Sherlock said chewing on his pipe. Watson just looked at his associate thinking that being the pot calling the kettle black. “We are nothing alike, Watson.” Sherlock said almost reading his friends mind.
            “Well I’ve not met your brother so it wouldn’t be fair for me to say weather you are or not.” He looked at Sherlock, “Holmes . . . it would just be for a month or two and you know as well as I it’s the best thing for her in every way.” Holmes glanced at him for a moment with a sigh.

Visitors
            Katherine sat on the opposite side of the carriage from Holmes and Watson. She leaned against the wall just starring out the window as they rode through the countryside. She was very quiet, and somewhat tired having been having some difficulty sleeping despite Watson’s best efforts.
            Holmes made no attempt to hide his starring at her and studying her for a long amount of time. Her clothes were packed and brought with her when she was moved to the boarding house, and she now sat in one of her traveling dresses with her cloak around her and the hood pulled over her head. The style of clothes that she wore was very proper, very expensive, and extremely dark. Somewhat akin to what Blackwood was infamous for dressing as. It would make sense that she was clothed to complement him and give off the impression he wanted. Yet at the same time, she was a widow and she was in mourning. If there were any color accents, dark as they would have been, she wasn’t wearing them now and wore pure black from the skin out.
            “Do you own anything of a brighter color?” Sherlock finally said thinking out loud. “Even your nightgowns are of a somewhat darkened color scheme when they are traditionally white.” Watson couldn’t believe that the first words out of Holmes mouth breaking the silence were those.
            Katherine didn’t take her eyes from the window as she continued to ride along with the two men whose care she was now in. “My husband was not a very traditional man, sir.” She answered. “As I am sure you have already discovered.”
            “You must have had some say in your wardrobe and apparel.” He said.
            “Holmes.” Watson broke into the conversation wishing he would just let it lay. “We discussed this.” He said under his breath.
            “No.” Katherine said simply. “I had nothing when we were married, Mr. Holmes. Everything he ever gave me, was a gift. I did not complain because of the colors.” She said.
            “Do you miss him?” Sherlock continued pressing the questions he wanted to know how ever unsavory they were to ask a young widow who was barely an acquaintance.
            This time she didn’t answer, as though ending the conversation herself not wanting to discuss it any further. She was filling a bit ill from how long they had been traveling and the constant movement of the carriage.
            “We’ll be stopping for the night soon at an inn.” Watson said having noted the way she was becoming pale and the tiredness in her eyes seemed to be growing. Watson glared at Sherlock, wondering why it was so difficult for him to observe a respectful décor in this situation. It was as though he was bursting with questions and he could barely keep them to himself.

Dinner Engagements
            “Do you suppose you can attempt to keep a civil tongue in your head this evening?” Watson asked as he finished changing while Sherlock did the same before they went downstairs to eat dinner.
            “What are you going on about? I didn’t ask anything to personal. I just inquired about the choice of color in her clothing.” He said.
            “Did it ever occur to you that she isn’t ready to talk about Blackwood yet?” Watson said.
            “It did actually but not for the reasons you imagine.” Holmes answered. “She was starring out that window since the moment we left almost as if she was expecting him to materialize and spirit her away at any moment.”
            “She knows he’s dead. I pronounced him dead myself.” Watson said. “I explained to her in reasonable detail his execution. We’ve no reason to lie to her.”
            “I know that, but as I have stated before, she is not telling us all she knows. She still moves on needles and pins and is always extremely attentive to her surroundings.” Sherlock said. “Even more so then anyone has ever had a reason to.”
            “It is possible that she’s uncomfortable traveling with two men far away from her home in the city.” Watson said. “It would be strange if she wasn’t a bit uncomfortable.”
            “We are here to protect her and she is well aware of that fact.” Sherlock turned from the mirror and looked at Watson. “You’re taking this rather personally aren’t you old boy?” He said picking up his jacket. “Even more then she is.”
            “I don’t think so.” Watson answered, “I’m attempting to extend her some kindness, that I’m almost certain she hasn’t been offered in quite some time. I can’t speak to the nature of the relationship she had with Blackwood. Yet to be honest, it’s neither of our business.”
            “Except the fact she’s being investigated as well as whatever else Blackwood left behind.” Sherlock pointed out. “It’s a certainty that she wasn’t actually present for the murders of those young women, or even that she had any knowledge of it. Yet having been a participant in some of their rituals and ceremonies, she had to be familiar with the nature of their order.”
            “She was a poor orphan who was taken into the home of a wealthy man and made his wife before she even knew who he was. You heard her yourself earlier, she considered everything he gave her was a gift and thought it rude to complain or decline his generosity.”
            “He was being generous only to himself, and I am amazed that she doesn’t acknowledge that.” Holmes said brushing off his sleeves slightly.
            “All I’m asking is that you be easier on her Holmes. She has not resisted talking to either you or I and she answers as truthfully as she can. She’s cooperating with us extremely well. There’s no reason to punish her for that.” Watson said.
            “As you say, Watson. Although I think you’ve made this rather more personal then need be.”
            A while later, the three were sitting down to dinner as they had been served. It was rather quite, the young woman never seemed to start a conversation on her own or ask questions. Something that Holmes had noticed from the first time they had met when she was awake. Although, it wasn’t that unexpected. No doubt Blackwood had her under his thumb at all times, with the belief that she should be seen and not heard. The fancy and expensive clothing that he had made for her was testament to that.
            “Is everything to your liking?” He said breaking the silence, not being able to stand another moment of it.
            “Everything is excellent.” She answered cutting her chicken with her knife and fork. It was almost as if she knew that a cascade of questions was about to come her way, but she accepted it and waited patiently to hear them as she reached for her wine glass and took a sip.
            “When was the last time you, yourself spoke to Blackwood.” He asked.
            Katherine sighed slightly realizing that it didn’t matter how she was feeling about the subject of her late husband, there was not going to be any sort of escape from talking about him. “A few days after his arrest when I was finally allowed to see him. It was when I told him I was with child, and he then forbid me from attending the trial.”
            “And despite the fact his life was hanging in the balance, you chose not to testify on his behalf?” Sherlock said. Watson rolled his eyes hardly able to believe this was a dinner conversation or that Holmes had brought it up so quickly after their discussion.
            “I was not permitted to, nor was I even asked to do so.” Katherine said. “You think I would not have been the first to take the stand in his defense should I have had the opportunity?”
            “No.” Sherlock said after a moment. “I think you feared him as much if not more than the public did.” She took another sip of her wine, it seemed as though nothing he said or insinuated shocked her. It was almost as if nothing could. “And you still fear him now.”
            “I carry his child, Mr. Holmes.” She said looking at the inspector. “I hold the last bit of him and his family line within me. Do you think there is nothing to fear with that very real and true fact? I was his wife, sir. Every bit of ridicule and scorn he received I received as well. I bare his mark, as will this child for the rest of our lives.” The table fell silent for a moment before she continued, “My age bothers many, as it bothers both of you. But what is done, is done. There is no changing it. There is no making it right. It is far too late for that.”
            “You seem a bit older than your physical age.” Holmes said. “I can see it in your eyes. Your body is that of a young woman nearing the age of 17, but your eyes are of those belonging to someone 20 years your senior.”
            “I grew and matured rather quickly after our marriage. My eyes have seen and lived things that others only face in their nightmares. However, they eventually wake from their night terrors. I’m still very much living within them.” She answered.
            “And the ceremony which led to your current condition . . . among your night terrors?” He asked.
            “Holmes!” Watson said trying to quiet him. It was an incredibly inappropriate question in every direction.
           “I hold a copy of the book of spells your husband’s order follows to the letter. Their rituals and ceremonies are rather extensively outlined and detailed in the volume.” He said furthering the question, completely ignoring Watson’s objection. “There are several indications that the head of the order and his wife are to procreate in a specific manner.”
            Watson covered his face in embarrassment for this entire affair. Holmes truly had no boundaries in the slightest much less observed others. Katherine was quiet for only a moment before she answered. “Yes.” She said. “And the scar on my hand that you continually survey is indeed a result of that ritual. I’m sure you observed a similar one on Henry’s hand before his death.”
            “You had no objections to this?” Holmes asked.
            “I had no say in the matter. I did as my husband directed and simply obeyed his commands.” Her eyes turned to Sherlock’s locking on his gaze. “I am grateful for the help you and your friend Doctor Watson have extended to me, and for aiding me in my anonymity during this time. I am sorry to disappoint you in your suspicions of me, Mr. Holmes. I was not a practitioner in the order. I was merely a tool to be used as the head of the order had need of me.”
            “And when your father-in-law, the ambassador to America, and your husband’s scientist’s bodies began to emerge one right after the other? What then?” He said, “You had to be suspicious of him.”
            “What was there to be suspicious of. He said that those things would happen, he made no secret of their impending deaths or that he was the one who would be the cause of them. That his master would be protecting them as they did his work.” She answered.
            “You sound as though you believe in all of that superstition, despite the fact I personally debunked every single one of those atrocities as nothing more than clever showmanship. There was no magic, there never was.” He pointed out.
            Katherine’s eyes met his again, “And I hope, with all of my heart, that you will never have reason to doubt yourself in that certainty, sir. Not everyone has that luxury.”
            “So in your mind, Magic is real. The dark arts that your husband practiced were in fact actually summoning of evil spirits and demons, commanding them to do evil deeds.” Holmes scoffed slightly.
            “Seeing is believing. That’s what they say, Mr. Holmes.” Was her answer although somewhat vague.
            “You would make an excellent mystic if you were looking for a career field Lady Blackwood.” He said.
            Just then a boy came over handing a small envelope to Holmes saying that they had just received the message from London. Holmes opened it and read it as the boy read it. “Who gave you this?” He asked.
           “The policemen at the door, sir.” Holmes passed the message over to Watson to read before excusing himself and leaving into the lobby. Katherine looked at Watson seeing the way his expression changed.
            He looked up at her and saw the calm look on her face as though she already knew what the news was. It wasn’t as though she was happy or excited about it, as much as not surprised by it either. “Extra precautions were taken this time to insure his death.” Watson said.
            “He didn’t stay that way, did he.” She said.
            “It’s not possible. Someone is playing a game. I’m certain of it.” He answered.
            “I hope so.” She said softly before putting her napkin aside and standing from the table excusing herself and going upstairs to her room. Watson looked over the letter again in disbelief.

In The City
            “Alright, so let me see if I understand all of this correctly.” Holmes said, “There are a great deal of eye witness accounts that Blackwood has returned, his body is missing, yet from the day he supposedly resurrected no one has seen or heard of him.”
            “That’s about the extent of it sir.” The Lieutenant said.
            “Are you certain that this isn’t an elaborate hoax, and that someone isn’t simply playing a game?” He said convinced that it was already.
            “It’s a damn good one if that’s the case sir. This witness’s credibility is without question, and their reactions were even more so.” He reported.
            “Why on earth is this going on a second time?” Watson said, “You would think that the man would understand when his time was up and let himself rest in peace.” He said in annoyance.
            “I’ll believe it when I am looking into his eyes.” Sherlock said. “In the meantime, let’s investigate his tomb, yet again shall we? See what little tricks he left behind for us to sort out this time.”
            A few hours later, Holmes and Watson returned to the boarding house. “Amazing isn’t it? TO find a completely different way to fool the crowd?” Watson observed, “Have you figured this one out yet??”
            “Not until I have more information and all the facts, Watson. It’s simply not prudent to make assumptions. How many times must I remind you of that.” There was a letter waiting for Holmes under his door and he picked it open tearing it open and reading. He stopped cold in his tracks and sighed.
            “What is it?” Watson said seeing the way he had come to an abrupt halt.
            “Well, I don’t think you need to concern yourself any longer with Lady Blackwood’s well being.” He said handing Watson the note. “According to my brother, Lord Blackwood’s body isn’t the only one missing.”
            “She’s disappeared?” He asked taking the letter and reading over it quickly.
            “Apparently she has, and only she. All her belongings were left in my brother’s guest room and not one thing had been packed or taken along with her.” Holmes said.
            “Blackwood?” He asked wondering if that’s why he hadn’t been seen nor heard from again, because he was out in the country collecting his young bride.
            “Perhaps. Or perhaps word reached her of his so called resurrection and she attempted to flee on her own. As you and I both observed she was overly attentive to her surroundings.” Holmes surmised. “I think we need to find her.”
            “Find her, and we find Blackwood?” Watson said.
            “She is carrying his child after all.”

Darkness
            Katherine moaned slightly, feeling pain before she could even see. Reaching up she rubbed her eyes slightly trying to clear her vision and make the pain in her head stop. She started to turn to her side but found that she was unable to.
            After a moment, she felt a hand on her stomach pushing her to lay flat against the hard surface she was on. She winced and whimpered as the soreness in her back started to become worse. “Please, please . . .” She begged, “It hurts.” She said as her hand wrapped around wrist of the hand that held her down.
            “I would have preferred not to have brought you back home in such a manner.” She heard a familiar voice say. “But there was little time, and you left the city without a word to anyone.”
            She knew that voice, she had grown quite familiar with it and accustomed to the sound. She closed her eyes laying her head back, not even having to see him. She could make out a hooded figure in the darkness, but that was all. Now she knew why. “You’ve come back.” She whispered.
            “I told you, I would.” He said.
            “They told me you were dead.” She said in a soft voice a little confused but still in a large amount of pain.
            “And so I was.” He answered. Blackwood leaned down putting his face close to hers, as she felt a cold and sharp steel of a blade press to the side of her cheek turning her face towards him. “Lie still, and do as I say. It will be over before you know it.” He whispered into her ear.
            She clinched her jaw as her body tensed, she didn’t know what was coming, but knew if she didn’t remain still as he said she would get severely hurt even more then whatever he was about to do.
            Katherine closed her eyes tight as she listened to him begin to say a Latin incantation as she felt his hand press against her abdomen. She shivered slightly as she felt his hand pull her blouse up a bit and bare her skin, and then the feel of that cold sharp blade against her skin. He continued to chant, as he drew some sort of symbol with the tip of the blade, but didn’t cut or break the skin.
            Next, she felt him taking her hand, palm side up and then a sharp slice across her thumb that made her whimper but she bit her lip attempting to remain quiet. Another moment passed before she heard the sound of the blade slicing more skin, but it wasn’t on her body. Taking her hand again, Blackwood entwined their fingers together, as she could feel the wetness of his wound pressing against hers. Then, placing their hands over her bared abdomen he finished the incantations and rites.
            The young woman had started to feel dizzy and lightheaded from the pain in her body, and before he finished saying his ritual words, she was passed out once again on the hard alter she was laid out upon.

Awakening
            It only seemed like a few seconds from when she had last heard Blackwood’s voice speaking over her in a different language, as her eyes opened once again. Except this time, there was candle light, and she was in her own bed in their bedchamber under the covers. Sitting in a chair next to the bed sat Blackwood, who was simply watching her sleep waiting for her to wake.
            Her eyes focused on her hand that was laid next to her on the pillow, seeing her thumb had been bound and cared for. “You seem surprised to see me.” He said simply seeing that she was now awake.
            “Could you not have simply collected me in a less aggressive way?” She asked in a soft voice feeling her head pound behind her eyes. “I would have come with you.”
            “I know.” He said. “But with circumstances being what they are, I didn’t have time to explain everything or to go through your guardian that Holmes and his lap dog Watson had left you with.” Blackwood moved from the chair to sit beside her on the bed looking down at her as she rolled on her back looking up at him. “You’re angry with me.” He said. “For my instructions I left to keep you from the execution.” He said.
            “Just . . . confused. I don’t understand why you thought I needed to be so heavily sedated.” She said her voice still very quiet and meek.
            “My original intention was that you would fall asleep only to wake and find me returned you. As if I was never gone.” He said. “But the police became curious as to your whereabouts apparently and started a search.” He placed his hand over the small swell of her abdomen that lie under the covers a moment. “Now, our child has been properly anointed with our blood. To give him protection on his journey into this world.”
            Katherine didn’t answer or say anything as she simply watched Blackwood’s face as he admired her body and the life that now grew inside of it. After a few moments his eyes moved to hers noticing how quiet and still she was.
            “What is it?” He asked taking his hand back and looking at her. “What’s weighing so heavy on your mind?”
            “Am I going to die.” She said in a quiet almost whispered voice. His brow furrowed a bit when he heard her ask that, not certain where it came from. Katherine furthered her question, “My mother died when I was born. Your mother died when you were born.” She explained softly. “Am I going to die?”
            “Not all women die when they give birth.” He said looking into her eyes. “The protection that you and I have given him,” He said placing his hand over the small swell of her abdomen, “Is for you as well. Neither you’re mother nor mine had taken such precautions, as they weren’t married to our fathers. They had no such protection.”
            “Then . . . I will live to see our child?” She said softly.
            “Of course.” He promised with a soft smile.
            In truth, it wasn’t a certainty either way. If she would live or die when it was time for the baby to be born. Yet Katherine had a certain naive quality about her that he took full advantage of from the very first day. It didn’t seem prudent to scare or frighten her with what neither of them knew for sure.
            “You must be hungry.” He said. “Dinner I’m certain should be ready momentarily. Get dressed and we will sit down together.” He said reaching up and stroking her cheek gently before getting up and leaving her to get ready for dinner.

Intelligence
            “Alright. So . . . Blackwood is alive, and well once again. At his manor, where Katherine has been returned too. His followers are aware of this, the authorities are well aware of this . . . and apparently they are all going to simply look the other way as though his trial and execution never took place?” Watson said in amazement.
            “That seems to be the case.” He said. “You were there with me, Watson. You saw what I saw. We were not only outnumbered but those who were in attendance to that rather strange and somewhat dark ritual that took place last night, but many of those men hold sway over the yard itself. There’s no point in crying wolf if no one is going to do a thing about it.”
            “She didn’t seem as though she was very self aware.” Watson noted.
            “Her eyes were open several times and she was moving enough to require someone holding her down.” Holmes said.
            “She had taken to sleeping on her sides. The way her body was beginning to contort it caused her pain to lie flat on her back or attempt to lie on her stomach.” Watson added. Holmes arched a brow as he looked at Watson wondering how he had gathered such in depth information. Watson narrowed his eyes at him before rolling them slightly, “I was her doctor, for however brief of time you know. I asked her questions and she answered them to the best of her ability.”
            “And somehow the question of how she likes to sleep came into conversation?” Holmes said somewhat suspiciously. “I did note that the two of you seemed to be rather close.”
            “Oh for God’s sake Holmes!” Watson exclaimed. “My interest in her was never more than a physicians concern for his patient. We were friends, at best. Something that I don’t think she’s had male or female in quite some time if ever in her life.” He said. “My concern for her is of a brotherly nature.”
            “She was rather well developed for her age and quite blessed in a few physical features I must admit.” Holmes said. Watson put his hand in his pocket and just glared at Sherlock. “Well considering she was married and with child, I think age became a moot point a long time ago.”
            “To her perhaps, and even Blackwood now apparently to you as well, but it has never been something I’ve forgotten or chose to ignore.” He shook his head a bit. “She’s only 16. She should be only just starting to notice boys, not already be married and having a child of her own. She’s a baby herself.”
            “Well regardless of all that you are going to have to catapult yourself beyond her age. She is a young woman, and as I’m sure you witnessed and agree . . . she’s in quite a precarious position. Blackwood’s motives behind it could be one of a million different possibilities, but the man never makes a move without looking how it will benefit him and strengthen is power and choke hold on most of London.” Sherlock said.
            “What caused him to suddenly want to take such a young wife, and start a family.” Watson said pointing out the issue in question. “Who knows. Perhaps when he was murdering those girls in those ghastly rituals, he knew it would only go so far before he was caught and executed and decided he wanted his bloodline continued.”
            “Or . . . perhaps his order has certain dates and requirements for such an event to take place. Perhaps a prophecy or two to fulfill?” Sherlock said out loud. “I couldn’t imagine another reason that someone would want to take his wife in a room full of people, unless that individual is beyond perversity.” He paused a moment, “Come to think of it I think that’s the sort of individual we’re dealing with in Blackwood, and would be my conclusion except that there is more to this with his need to gain power.”
            “If there is a doctor in his order who is helping with these things, then he must be helping in giving her sedatives and other such medications when they need her weakened. The same one who put her in the state we found her in.” Watson said. “I can’t imagine even Blackwood being so bold as to give her medications on his own without first consulting a doctor if he truly wants this child, and Katherine healthy.”
            “I suppose it comes down to our having to speak to the horse himself.” Sherlock said. “He can’t gain a pardon, and I have a feeling that if we go over the Yard’s head to the monarchy, there won’t be anything they can do except enforce the laws. Looking the other way will only jeopardize their own position.”
            “So we’re going to cry wolf to the Queen herself?” Watson said arching a brow.
            “Precisely.”

Prison Cells
            Blackwood sat on the bed in the small cell leaning against the wall, just reading the book of revelations to himself. It was certainly a favorite chapter and unnerved both the guards and other inmates enough to keep them at bay and on edge. Holmes stood outside the cell a moment before calling attention to himself.
            “I’m getting the oddest sense of Dejavu . . . . Can I assume you feel it as well?” He said leaning against the bars. Blackwood didn’t look up or acknowledge the inspector, and simply turned the page in his book. Holmes arched a brow. “They say the third times always the charm. I suppose it may be that way in your case. Considering you’re body is going to be cremated this time, to insure no tricks are being played.”
            “Then my resurrection and return from the grave will be that much more astounding.” Blackwood said still not moving his eyes towards Holmes.
            Sherlock found his attitude somewhat disquieting. As it was clear that every precaution, every step, everything was over thought and would be over kill to see to but it was their intention to put an end to Blackwood once and for all. “I suppose we should give Katherine a front row seat this time, so she can see that you are dead and not have to look over her shoulder to see if you’re behind her every two seconds.”
            “And how did you like, my child bride. Hmmm?” Blackwood said a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Breathtaking isn’t she? Although somewhat naive and trusting. Although smart as paint besides.”
            “What’s the matter, didn’t anything older want to keep your company?” Holmes said purposely trying to get a rise out of Blackwood now. “Babies having babies . . . and I suppose we’ll have to keep a close eye on her now, since you’ve corrupted her very moral center.”
            Blackwood thought this somewhat amusing at Holmes attempt to upset him. It didn’t sound as though he knew Katherine at all, and was simply making assumptions from limited observations. “Do you know, the first time we made love . . . she covered her face with her arms, unable to look up at me. So overcome with shame even though she was a properly wedded wife.” His eyes moved towards Holmes a moment, “Innocence so pure is much harder to corrupt then you can ever imagine.”
            “Either that or you over estimate your conjugal capacities and she was simply attempting to stifle her laughter. “ Holmes replied.
            Blackwood closed his book and turned to looked at him, “You must have just begun on this so called ‘case’ of yours. You know nothing of her in the slightest, do you. Other than her age and of course her being my wife.” Blackwood said.
            “I know that she is in the custody of those she was originally living with. I know that she is incredibly repentant of her ‘sins’ even though they aren’t hers but yours. And I know quite well that she is about to be widowed and her child made fatherless. Although as it has been pointed out by many, she is young and breathtakingly beautiful. I’ve no doubt she’ll be able to marry again, especially with the fortune your death leaves behind for her.” Holmes said making sure that Blackwood understood how powerless he was.
            “mmm.” Blackwood said, “And all this makes you feel as though you’ve triumphed somehow I take it. That you’ve managed to ‘set her free’ in your eyes with apprehending me for the sole purpose of my execution. Done ‘properly’ this time.”
            “She’s safe now. Away from the reach and influence of your followers.” Sherlock stated. “With you gone, I see no reason why she couldn’t go abroad for a few years until your name is somewhat forgotten.”
            Blackwood’s small smile crept back to his face before he turned his attention back towards his book. “You are in far over your head, Sherlock Holmes.” And that was obviously his last words on the matter. Holmes felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up at those words and the easy way Blackwood seemed to be taking all of this.

Research
            “Watson,” Sherlock said when his friend entered the room taking off his coat and Jacket. “In all your time conversing with Katherine Blackwood, did she ever mention that she was intended to be a nun.” He said.
            The doctor stopped and shook his head, “No. She never mentioned that.” He answered. “Are you certain? It makes it even more strange that Blackwood sought her out specifically.”
            “It might be the very reason that they were wed before his intent of impregnating her. I doubt they would have let her leave the convent with him unless they were man and wife.” Holmes added. “There was a substantial amount donated to the church before her departure. I think it’s safe to say that she was purchased before hand.”
            “That’s barbaric.” Watson said in disgust.
            “But not unheard of.” Holmes said. “The mother superior who was in charge of the place when Katherine was taken away, was incredibly shocked and uncomfortable when she was informed of what was taking place. Apparently she had known Katherine from the first day she appeared at the orphanage, and seemed to know before Katherine did that she was destined for the order.”
            “Except Blackwood had other plans for her.” Watson shook his head and sighed, “Is this what he meant when he told you that pure innocence was so difficult to corrupt? Because he took a young girl from a nunnery making her a reluctant and somewhat slaved wife?”
            “No doubt. I believe he revels in that fact, and considers it to be one of his greatest accomplishments. You saw as well as I how well beaten into place she was. Perhaps not physically, but in her mind she had been shackled with thick chains.” Holmes speculated.
            “Even more reason that it will be good riddance to him.” Watson commented.
            Sherlock sighed, “Don’t be so certain of that.” Watson looked over to his friend who stood from his chair and walked to the window leaning his hand against the sill and looking out to the city. “A wife still has a right to ask for clemency from the monarchy, and sanctuary from the church.”
            “Your joking. She wouldn’t, would she?” The doctor said.
            “There was no luck with the church. They were as happy as we were to see him sent to hell to meet his master head on. The monarchy however, . . . seeing her in her current condition which is now more noticeable then it was before . . . seems to have swayed the decision of execution somewhat.” Holmes said.
            “But she’s terrified of him. We saw it in her manner, the way she acted, the way she spoke. Why would she attempt to seek audience with the King to secure his release?” His friend said in complete and utter disbelief.
            “Perhaps it’s those emotions which you said would become more and more unpredictable the further she was into her pregnancy. Or . . . perhaps her fear is less when she can see him before her, rather than having to look over her shoulder never knowing if he was behind her or not.” Holmes suggested. “Or, of course the more likely being, she has been in league with him the entire time and knew of his intention. When he couldn’t get out of this debacle himself, she had to step in and aid him in his escape of the noose yet again.”
            “I don’t believe that.” Watson said. “She has the character of someone who’s accepted her place and position which she was emerged into. Not of an eager and willing participant. Surely you recognize that.”
            “Things are not always what they seem, Watson. As you have said, I didn’t quite get to know her on a personal level as much as you did. Maybe she is the rare exception to the rule of someone who doesn’t hide something or have ulterior motives, but the odds are highly against it.” Sherlock said.
            “Well, I still find it unlikely. If she was to be a nun, and her heart and mind where set in that direction, then perhaps she felt her loyalty should be to her husband, and it was her duty as his wife to speak on his behalf. Marriage is a popular subject in religion you know, Holmes. I’m certain it was drilled into her from the time she could speak. Now that she carries his child as well . . .” Watson sighed, “I don’t pretend to know the religious mind, but Blackwood himself told you that she wasn’t so easily corrupted. It sounds as though it was his hobby to try and do so.”
            Holmes was quiet for a moment before changing the subject somewhat, “You are a medical man, Watson. She’s not the first pregnant women you’ve attended in your time.”
            “Yes?” Watson confirmed.
            “How likely is it that anyone could predict the day and time for a child’s arrival. Even if the most scientific of minds, and experienced of doctors were involved?” He asked.
            “I should say not to likely. It’s possible to narrow it down to a month, or even a week. But the exact day and time? There are far to many factors affecting the event itself.” He admitted, “Why?”
            “The child is expected in late October, early November at this point. Correct?” Watson gave a nod. “If someone wanted that child to be born on a specific day and time frame, how would one go about encouraging delivery?”
            “A few methods I suppose. There are physical means, exercises and so forth. Certain medicines and chemicals to induce labor.” He thought a moment longer slipping his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the desk, “Or if someone was impatient or wished to go the more dangerous route, I suppose a C-section when it wasn’t an a emergency or necessary would be the most immediate and accurate way to insure the birth of the child at a precise moment.”
            “Exactly.” Sherlock said.
            “You think that it’s possible Blackwood intends his child to be born on a specific day and time?” Watson inquired.
            Sherlock produced the book of spells that Blackwood’s order considered their own personal bible. He opened it to a page and handed it to Watson to read. “One of their most important and largest celebrations happens around the time the child is expected. I have the feeling that this was done specifically with this date in mind.”
            Watson looked up from the book and at Holmes, “October 31^st? Halloween?”
            “I would be most interested in finding out exactly what this is to accomplish.” Sherlock said taking the book back. “However I do fear that if Lady Blackwood doesn’t begin her labor upon the late hours of the evening before, or early morning hours the day itself . . . steps may be taken to insure the child’s timely arrival.”
            “Do you think that Blackwood would really endanger her life like that?” Watson said. “It’s done in emergencies when there is no alternative, but it his highly dangerous to the mother. She could bleed to death, go into shock, a number of things could go wrong.”
            “Blood seems to be a popular ingredient to the rites and rituals preformed by these men. I doubt that bloodshed in order to fulfill his ambitions is above Blackwood in any capacity.”

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Dark Rituals