Chapter Text
Jim Moriarty.
The God of mischief and mayhem and (arguable) the most dangerous God around, gazed down at the Celestial Globe. An orb of his own creation that tracked the mystical energy of every living creature on the planet.
And yet, he was still bored…. And when he was bored, he had the urge to create chaos…. Glorious, glorious chaos.
“Good morning Tiger!” he crooned, addressing his most loyal follower, the only one who had come to him willingly rather than following him out of fear, “It’s a brand-new day, and another perfect opportunity for mischief. Look at all these petty little mortals… I pluck one tiny thread and their entire world dissolves into chaos. Chaos, chaos, chaos!”
The constellations that surrounded him all quivered at the manic laugh that came out of the God’s mouth, and the way he danced around the small room. The Tiger one however, seemed delighted at the tone, shuffling closer and growling lowly, watching as his boss turned his attention fully to the globe.
He traced the lines on the planet, seeking the perfect target. The map was difficult to read; so many people, so much energy. It was like looking for a specific needle in a stack of needles…. Mostly, all you got were pricks.
“Perfect…” Jim hissed, focusing on a specific ship, “… the arrogant prince escorting a treasure back to good, old England…. Closely followed by a good man, turned thief.” He span around in glee, cackling to himself, “Oh, this is going to be fun!”
When he twisted around to eye his followers, he cast a fond smile at his loyal Tiger. “Not you Sebby… the place will stink of wet cat for days.”
As Sebastian settled down, Jim pointed at the kraken-like creature. “You… you know what to do. Let the game begin!”
……………………………………………………
Greg Lestrade strode up the deck of The Iceman, Gladstone at his heel.
The sea air was pleasant, the sun was shining… it was a lovely, lovely day and the Book of Peace, the one thing that may buy back favour with the King, was within his grasp. Just ahead, on a ship that wasn’t even watching out for pirates.
“Gentlemen, “He addressed his crew, “this is the moment that we’ve waited for. One of the world’s most precious objects is heading straight for London…” he smirked at the crew, “… We should give it a hand getting there.”
The crew chuckled at this, standing to attention when Greg clapped his hands. “And after today, we’re going to retire!”
Now the crew were really cheering, all rushing to their positions and preparing for the boarding.
“JOHN!”
John Watson, his second in command after helping the crew get away from London in the first place, saluted and grabbed the wheel of the ship. “On it Lestrade!” he yelled, bringing the ship alongside with a deft turn of the wheel.
“Donavon!” His female sergeant dived forwards and tugged on a lever just as their ship broadsided the Gladstone, ship blades coming out to tear the hull, pinning the ships together. With a savage roar, the crew of the Iceman crossed to the other ship, weapons at the ready. Some members stayed behind to defend the ship, but there usually wasn’t any need for that.
Lestrade’s trusty gun was already in his hand as he leapt from one ship to the other and moved in. British soldiers were dangerous (John was a good example of that), with more training than the majority of other countries, and Lestrade’s crew was hand-picked especially for their unique skills.
Needless to say, the fight didn’t last very long…. It was a little bit embarrassing really, especially as he remembered training most of these men.
After taking care of several guards at once, swinging his swords around and taking advantage of the distraction to knock them out, he made his way back over to John.
“I bet they don’t teach that in the Police Academy.” He remarked to his second-in-command, who rolled his eyes at him.
“Don’t you think you showed off? Just a little?”
“What?!” Lestrade acted offended, but he knew it was slightly true… Being removed from the police force had given him the freedom he hadn’t had in years, “Me? Showing off?”
Before John could answer, one last guard made a last-ditch effort to get rid of them, charging towards John with a bellow, hoping that it would be easier to take out the shorter man.
He was disappointed.
Swiftly, John spun around and grabbed the man’s wrist, kneeing him in the groin, before throwing him over his shoulder and over the side of the ship.
“Oh… and I was showing off?”
“Shut up.”
As they headed towards the bow of the ship, they stopped in their tracks at what they saw. A tall man with dark, curly hair, wearing a long, black coat was fighting against two of their crew…. And insulting them the entire time.
“Sherlock….” Greg heard John whisper, old feelings clearly coming to the surface.
“Yeah…” Greg placed a brotherly hand on John’s shoulder, “… I don’t know whether to laugh at your misfortune, or curse at the fact that he’s here.”
“Don’t start…” John roughly pulled away, turning around and glaring at his friend, “… or do I really need to remind you who you named our ship after?”
He didn’t.
“How long has it been since we left London?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.
“… Feels like a lifetime ago.”
As they made their way closer to the fight, they could hear the insults a little more clearly… and John couldn’t help but laugh.
“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Sherlock.”
Sherlock instantly stopped what he was doing, spinning around at the familiar voice, a nervous and unsure look on his face, “John?”
Taking advantage of his shock, the stunned (and very humiliated) members of Greg’s crew, tackled the young man to the ground, causing John and Lestrade to wince in sympathy.
“John… Lestrade.” Sherlock frowned at the pair of them, slowly pushing himself to his feet, “What are you- The Iceman….” He snarled in frustration with himself, “… of course it was you.”
“Remind me to make a note in the diary…” Lestrade muttered to himself, shoving a knife through the lock on the door, “… the day I almost outsmarted Sherlock Holmes.”
Sherlock didn’t seem to hear him, far too focused on John.
“Why did you leave?” the taller man asked, his voice only just above a mechanic, “I thought- “
“- Sherlock.” John sighed wearily, stopping the man in his tracks, “I wanted to… but we both know your Father would have had something to say about that.”
Before Sherlock could answer, John followed Lestrade into the small, previously locked room, eyes widening at the sight of the Book lying on its pedestal.
Lestrade whistled lowly, taking another step forward just as Sherlock pushed past and blocked his way.
“We need to talk.” The younger man scowled, avoiding looking John in the eye.
“Heard about it…” Lestrade whispered, “… read about it…. Never actually seen it.” He gently moved Sherlock to one side, moving closer to the source of light in the room, “The Book of Peace.”
“And it’s my job to deliver it safely to London…” Sherlock sighed, “… boring but what can you do?”
“You consider us stealing it boring?” Lestrade couldn’t help but smirk, “I wonder if you can fire a Prince for not doing his job properly?”
Sherlock scowled, especially when John turned away, refusing to look him in the eye. “You can’t be- Oh, of course you are. So, you disappear for five years, show up and rob me?”
“Look Sherlock…” John turned back around and sighed, “… we really wish it wasn’t you, we do but- “
“- But it is me John!”
At the sheer anger and frustration in Sherlock’s voice, John couldn’t help but take a step back in shock, before straightening up in indignation. “I know… Yes, we were close, very close but- “
“- Close?” Sherlock scoffed the pair of them seeming to have completely forgotten that Lestrade was even there, “Juvenile. We were partners John, in every sense of the word!” He then smirked, “You’re not going to steal this, not from me. You couldn’t do anything with it anyway, the Book of Peace is…” Sherlock trailed off, “… Valuable. Very valuable. You want to hold it for ransom.”
Greg rolled his eyes at the guilty look on John’s face.
“You know I’ve always had the greatest respect for you Gavin- “
“- Greg.”
Sherlock frowned, “Greg… I like to think we were… good acquaintances, and if that ever meant anything to you, prove it now.”
There was a brief moment of silence, before Greg shook his head. “That was a long time ago.” When he reached out to grab the book, Sherlock grabbed his wrist and threw him to the ground.
“Boys, please…” John sighed, clearly wishing he could be anywhere but here, “… Greg, you’re the adult, please- “
“- He’s the one who wants to be a hero” Greg smirked, “You know I’ve always wanted to take him down a peg or two.”
John moved forwards, only for Sherlock to hold a hand to stop him.
“No. If he wants the book, he’ll have to go through me.”
And then the tentacle crashed through the wall.