The trot of hooves clanged nosily against the moist cobblestone street as two carriages led by black steeds rushed onwards. On lookers thought nothing out of the ordinary, even at night there were always a few travelers here and there. Farther ahead, two beings breathed in and out quickly, strained by the physical endurance. The two men sprinted towards the cathedral, passing under archways and blurring by townhouses and shops. One was wearing an over coat, the other was simply wearing their shirt, suspenders, and trousers, as well as a top hat.. The two ran up the stairs and across the top step. One slid down the rail to the bottom, while the other jumped off the side and tumble rolled upright. The one spun around and opened the door at the bottom and kicked open the iron gates behind it. He waited impatiently for the other, even though he was a second or two behind. His companion rolled their eyes and murmured, "Show off." under their breath. The first smirked and they proceeded through the passageway. They walked down a small flight of stairs and looked through an open arch. They saw light. A man with a lantern was looking down the spiral stairs. The man smirked at the other and tipped his head back onto the wall, thinking.

His companion backed away a bit, waiting for him to attack. He briefly smiled at the other before pulling the coat over him to further cloak him in darkness. The man with the lantern soon walked through the open doorway, lighting the small space. When he turned around, the man struck him on the ear. He then struck him in the throat, paralyzing his vocal chords. This was proceeded by a punch to the stomach and a fist to the other man's patella. The lantern man fell to the ground in a pained choked. The other grabbed hold of the lantern and spun the man's hat onto his head. He ran in the direction of the stairs, the lantern swaying dangerously as he swung it around with him.

Sherlock Holmes was on a mission, and even hell wouldn't stop him. His companion was following him and nearly out ran him, but not by much. As they descended the stairs, they could hear the eerily deep voice chanting a sort of spell in another tongue. A woman in a white dress was writhing on a stone alter as a man in a violet cloak chanted over her, his hands raised up and to the side. Torches of fire cast shadows across the scene as they flickered. Another cloaked figure stepped out from behind a column. Holmes and the man looked down from above quietly. A figure stalked up behind them, but was restrained by another. Holmes companion covered their mouthed to hold back the shocked intake of breath. Holmes grabbed the man's nose as the other held him in a standing head lock. The man struggled against his two restrainers.

"I like the hat." the man joining the two said to Holmes.

"Oh, I just picked it up." Holmes replied.

"You remember your revolver?"

" Oh, knew I forgot something. Thought I'd left the stove on."

"You did."

The silent man chuckled quietly as they conversed, and the other man's face turning red from lack of breath. Holmes released the man's nose, but the other kept him in his arms. Holmes looked at the man.

"I think that's quite enough. You are a doctor after all." Holmes told him. The man looked at the one in his arms and pressed a finger to find his pulse. He let him fall to the floor and straightened up.

"Always nice to see you Watson." Holmes said to his friend as they briefly shook hands. The two discarded their hats and Watson rid himself of his jacket.

"Where's the Inspector?" Holmes asked.

"He's getting his troops lined up."

"Hmmm. That could be all day." Holmes said, handing Watson his walking cane.

The ran down the rest of the stairs and to the floor that the sacrifice was taking place. Holmes put his hat over a random man's mouth before punching him, which knocked him to the ground. Watson smiled to himself as he ran into a trio of men, kicking them and sticking them with his cane. The man reciting the spell looked over and the other cloaked man left. The companion of Holmes loaded his revolver and spun the barrel. He ran forward and slammed the butt of the gun into the head of the man biting Watson's leg. He looked over as the woman spasming on the alter started to reach for the dagger lying next to her side. Watson hit another man on the ground with his club before pulling out his revolver as well. Holmes ran forward and forcefully grasped the woman's wrist. She writhed more as a breezed passed and blew out the torches. It ruffled the fabric of the cloak of the "sorcerer". Holmes pointed a club at the man.

"Sherlock Holmes. And his loyal dog. Tell me doctor," he said to Watson who was pointing the revolver at him, "as a medical man, have you enjoyed my work?" he asked.

"Let me show you how much I've enjoyed it." he angrily said, stepping forward.

"Watson! Don't!" Holmes said, blocking him from the man with his club. Watson looked in front of him carefully, and saw a thin and transparent glass spike protruding from the man's clasped hands.

"Observe."

"How did you see that?"

"Because I was looking for it." Holmes said and broke it in between his clubs. Watson pointed his gun again as Holmes used his club to unveil the man's face.

"Lord Blackwood?"

"You seem surprised." the man with slicked back black hair said.

"I'd say the girl deserves you attention more than he." Holmes suggested.

" Indeed." Watson muttered before hitting the lord across the face with the club. He walked to the alter just as Lestrade and his troops march in.

"I'd leave that alone if I were you boy-o." he said, pointing the gun at the man crawling on the floor towards his gun. The man raised his hands in defeat.

"Good lad." Lestrade said and kicked his face.

"Impeccable timing Lestrade." said Holmes. "We've one for the doctor and one for the rope."

" This woman needs a hospital immediately! Put her in the back of the Moriah!" Watson shouted at the policemen. He gently helped them lift her off of the alter. A policeman cuffed Lord Blackwood and was about to pull him forward, when the man shook him off.

"If you don't mind." the lord ground out.

"Get him out of my sight." spat Lestrade.

The police stood awkwardly next to the prisoner, who reluctantly moved.

"And you were supposed to wait for my orders." he said, turning to Holmes.

"If I had, you'd be cleaning up a corpse and chasing a rumor." the man replied. "Besides, the girl's parents hired me, not the Yard. Why they'd thought you'd require any assistance is beyond me."

"Well, London will breath a sigh of relief." Lestrade muttered.

"Indeed. Congratulations, Lestrade." Watson piped up.

"Bravo Inspector. Have a cigar." Lestrade took the smoke from Holmes and gazed at it.

"Gentlemen." the three men looked over. "Cheese!" a man with a camera stated. Holmes raised the club and blocked his profile as the flash went off.

"Yes, well done Lestrade." a voice came from behind a pillar. All eyes turned to the man who had been originally with Holmes. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You can take off that awful disguise now, you know that right?"

"I know that." the person huffed, their voice rising a few octaves. The man stepped out of the shadows and in front of them. He pulled off his top hat and waves of ebony hair fell from it and cascaded down their back.

"You know Charlotte, that outfit is unbecoming of you. Serves your figure no justice." Holmes smirked.

"At least I bathe, my dear brother." she replied smugly.

"A woman!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Of course Inspector. She did do a well job of clubbing that man, did she not?"

The inspector grunted unhappily as he turned to leave and rejoin his troops. Sherlock was mulling about, looking at details that would most probably be of no use.

"Last case?" Charlotte asked Watson.

"Definitely." he groaned. She chuckled and shook her head.

"What shall I do without you? He will drive me mad." she said, catching his eye. He smiled kindly.

"You did it once before. Surely you will be fine."

She frowned and nodded. "I will miss you." she said under her breath, but he didn't seem to hear it. He was too busy trying to convince her brother to go back upstairs and get some well earned rest.