After the Credits
~ Sylum Manor: Horatio and Timothy's Rooms ~
Thomas snuck into the bedroom, smiling softly at the sight of his family all gathered around, supporting Master Timothy and showing their solidarity in time of crisis.
Jethro was curled up on the bed, his arms around Tony, who had his arms around his brother.
Elizabeth was half on them and half on her parents, while Sean was stretched out in between them.
Abby had curled up under a warm blanket, on one of the armchairs, safe with Ichabod; her head resting on his shoulder, and his arms holding her close.
Peter and Alexx were stretched out on the couch by the fire.
Sam and Dean lay wrapped around one another on the rugs before the fireplace, and though Faramir looked a little put out that he had lost his coveted spot, he was resting along the edge of the bed, as close to his Master as he could get without pushing other Vampires out of the way for his trouble.
Nicolaus had slipped down into the chair he was occupying, his head resting on his hand, his elbow perched precariously on the edge of the right arm, where it looked set to fall at any moment, and jerk him awake.
Warrick, still leaning against his Mate's leg, was covered by a tartan patterned blanket and was snoring softly.
The General continually had issues about being too constrained, but he was at least contented, there in the midst of his most immediate loved ones.
Thomas crept up to him and tapped him firmly on the shoulder, holding his elbow to stop him from hurting himself if he sat up too fast. "Master Nico?"
He startled slightly, blinking tiredly at his friend. "Thomas? What?"
"You have a guest in your Study, Sir, who is waiting to see you." He stepped back a pace, offering his hand.
Nico nodded, scratched his head, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and gently eased out of the chair, trying not to disturb his Mate.
Thomas had hands that were always welcome.
Petting Warrick on the head, he thought his Pirate muttered something about sails and long guns, but he couldn't be sure.
Still, it made him smile.
Following Thomas back to his own rooms, Sylum's Clan Leader wasn't all that surprised at seeing Jimmy and Noah resting peacefully outside in the common area.
They were never far away, and it was a reassuring thing to find them there.
"Who is it Thomas?" Nico asked, stifling a truly expansive yawn. "It's late."
It was unusual for his Chief of Staff not to announce those who came to see him. Unless he wasn't sure how such visitors might be received.
And not all of those ever got a one on one.
Thomas opened the door to Nico's office, but didn't step inside.
Clearly it was vital he take the meeting.
"I'll make coffee and bring it up, Sir," he murmured.
Clearly it might be a long meeting.
Nicolaus frowned and stepped into the room, staring in shock at the man who sat in his chair.
He hadn't set foot out of Switzerland in more than fifty years!
Nico smiled, walked over to his desk and sat down in the chair across from it.
"What are you doing here?" he asked simply.
"That's the greeting I get? I come all this way and there's no, hello? No, how are you? No, I missed you Brother? Say there's an I missed you Brother in there, at least."
Pouting ensued.
"I have missed you, my Brother." Nico's smile broadened considerably.
The last time they'd been together was right before the funerals at the Vampire Council in Geneva.
After everything that had happened in Egypt, he'd just needed to see him again, hold him again, and remember those things that were still worth fighting for to the end.
"Glad to hear it!"
A beaming grin lit his Brother's face.
"So what's dragged you out of safe haven? You've not left Switzerland for any reason whatsoever, in more than half a century. So, I'm guessing this is big…?"
"I have news." He stood up and moved around the desk, sliding into the chair next to Nico, looking decidedly conspiratorial about something.
"And?"
"After Rome… You may remember it? You ran around trying to stop a madman with a bomb, dear boy!" He gave Nicolaus a meaningful stare. "Do you even take into consideration how the rest of us feel when you run off doing crazy things like that?"
There was a snort from over by the window.
"It had to be done. And I clearly recall a time when you ran around Europe trying to stop a madman from starting a World War," Nico countered.
"Touché! Which brings me to my point." He leapt back up with flourish. "They are the same madman!" he declared triumphantly.
Nicolaus looked up at him, needing a moment. "Huh… What?"
"Your madman and my madman are the same madman." He looked down at his Brother. "Follow along, Nico. There's a good chap. Moriarty is Galileo. Galileo is Moriarty. One and the same. Logical really. And there you have it! We've been chasing the same madman all this time!"
"Fucking hell!" Nicolaus Valerius Meridius bolted out of his chair like he'd just been struck by lightning.
Which in a way, he had.
"That about sums it up." The other man in the room, who'd snorted a moment before, turned to look at him, leaning heavily on his cane. "We were never in a position to meet Galileo, so never reasoned the connection."
Nico stared at his Brother, eyes narrowing sharply. "Are you sure? I need you to be sure."
An exasperated cry burst from his mouth. "Of course I'm sure!" He flailed.
"Sherlock?"
"I'm sure!" He glared at Nico, gritting his teeth. "You've never doubted anything I've told you before. Would I have come all this way on a whim? A fancy? I think not!!"
It was massive.
The sum of those implications that were even then clashing together in Nico's head, left him dizzy.
The very idea that Galileo had tried to start a world war?
Had a hand in torturing his Brother?
And that Moriarty had tried to destroy the Vatican just from spite?
He took a deep breath, then glanced at the other man. "How did Moriarty survive the Falls?"
"Probably the same way Holmes did." He tapped his cane on the floor, agitated and tired. "Since he was a Vampire…"
"And how the Holy Hell did we all miss that?" Nicolaus looked back at his brother, head cocked to the side.
"I'd say he probably had a heart simulator, before there ever was such an invention. He's a scientist after all. And I probably wasn't paying attention to heart beats." Sherlock shrugged as he settled back down in the chair he'd just vacated. "The moment I discovered the connection, I knew I had to inform you. But that one…" He pointed at rigidly stern finger at the other man. "…drugged me!" He shot him a filthy glare, and held up the requisite number of fingers just to make sure it was fully understood. "Three times!"
He was outraged, and not in the least bit ashamed of showing it.
"Three?" Nico looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. "I'm sure Dr. Watson had a perfectly good reason for that."
"We couldn't get him to calm down once he made the connection," Watson informed him. "Then once he woke up, you were already in the middle of dealing with the Mutants. He wouldn't listen to reason, so…" He shrugged, somewhat apologetically.
"You're just trying to keep me drugged and pliant!" Sherlock spat, then stood up quickly and walked away. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He truly hated the dark moments of not trusting his own Mate but knew not how to express them. "I got angry after the second time."
Nicolaus moved to the fireplace, and stood close to his Brother, running a hand through his thick, uncontrollable hair. "There's someone I need you to talk to," he said quietly, trying to soothe his rattled nerves.
Sherlock looked up at him, a questioning expression on his face.
"He can help you." Nico glanced over his shoulder, seeing Watson coming closer. "Get rid of this." He tapped Sherlock's forehead. "The darkness in there, that is stopping you from connecting to your Mate again. To me. To your son."
Holmes stepped away suddenly, as though startled. "What are you talking about? Make sense man!" He sounded positively indignant, and tossed his head in disgust.
"Lying in that dark Sarcophagus gave me a new insight." Nico approached him again. "I put so much guilt, pain, misery, and stupid, idiotic stuff behind me. And through all of it, though those days in that place, I realized family was the most important thing I have. All of my family."
"So now? After sixteen hundred years? You're finally going to tell the world I'm your illegitimate little Brother?" He sneered at him, not taking one word of it seriously. "It's alright now? All because you spent a week in a coffin? Are you ready for that? Are you truly ready to take me for all that I am?" He blinked. "That sounds like a wedding proposal!" He snorted, off on a tear. "You would've spent a damn sight longer in that Barrow at Stonehenge if I hadn't found your sorry naked backside and pulled you out! You could well have claimed me then, but no! Your Father tossed my Mother out of the house because you demanded it! Remember that? I was outcast before I even left the womb!!"
"I was a twelve year old spoiled brat, who'd just lost his Mother to the Visigoths!" Nicolaus stormed back, trying to control himself, but driven to the brink of utter insanity by what he'd just heard. "I was afraid of losing my Father back then too, so yes! Yes, I confess, I threw a temper tantrum of epic proportions. And I got my way. And when you did, finally show up in my life, your timing stank like a blocked sewer! I had just worked like hell to save my family name, and restore the Merdii to their rightful place in Roman history. So maybe it wasn't the best option to not claim you then and there, but it was the decision I made at the time. You turning up like a bad penny, was the final goddamn straw, Sherlock!"
He saw his brother's fists clench and unclench repeatedly.
"Would hitting me make you feel better?"
Tears pricked his eyes, at the impact of Sherlock's right hook to his jaw.
He reached up and gently touched it, massaging his suddenly aching gum line, before straightening up again and looking him in the eye. "Feel better?"
He closed his eyes and worked through the pain that came from the second blow.
"Now I do!" Sherlock shook his hand out, easy the jolt to his knuckles.
"Good!" he laughed. "So now that we've got that out of the way, it's time I had my Brother back." Nicolaus bit back unexpected tears. "You and I both know something happened when you were Hunting Jack the Ripper."
Sherlock's eyes shifted significantly to where Watson stood in the middle of the room.
"You know he's not that man." Nico's voice was firm, his assertion positive. "I've never lied to you about that, in all these years."
"It's there! All the time," he growled. "How do you expect to stop it? You can't. No one can! Ever consider I'm just insane, and should've been dusted years ago?"
"You are not insane!" Watson spoke up, moving next to Nicolaus, as patient as always, in trying to explain to his Mate that there was more going on in his head than he ever learned to accept. "You are not a Rogue. You are not a threat to society. And you've never Turned someone without Consent, or gone on a killing spree. Nor are you likely to any time soon, either!"
"Oh, I don't know about that!" He glared. "Have you seen that crap they're airing on BBC lately? That alone deserves a good killing spree! A modern Sherlock Holmes? Good heavens! What is that boy? 12?" He chuckled, glancing from one to the other of them, a small smile playing on his face.
"Who is this person you spoke of? Can he help?" Watson asked, eager to know.
In the century or so, since his Turning and subsequent Mating, then the devastating loss of his Mate - even though the man was standing right there next to him - he had immersed himself in the study of Psychology; all the better to try and understand what was going on with Sherlock, and all the while hoping to figure out what was happening in his head. In that time he had built a considerable and widely recognized reputation for himself as a Doctor of Psychological Medicine, so he felt he should probably know any Psychologist who specialized enough in dealing with Post Traumatic Stress, to be able to claim some new treatment for Sherlock's condition.
All the more so given that he was a Vampire.
"Charles." Nicolaus kept his gaze steady on Sherlock's face. "Professor Charles Xavier."
"The creepy guy in the wheelchair?" Sherlock gawped incredulously at his brother. "Are you insane?"
"He's our Father."
There was a long, drawn out silence.
"He is also telepathic. He was there for me during that time in Egypt, inside my head. With me, so I was never alone. He helped me get through those dark moments in my memories. All that history, Sherlock! He understands. He's the one who can help you."
"Why didn't you tell me before?" he demanded, not entirely comfortable with believing such nonsense.
"He requested specifically, that no one know who he was, especially with building the school and hiding those vulnerable kids." Nico was firm. "It wasn't until I lay in that damn Sarcophagus that the connections were finally made between us and him. And now it's time you meet him."
"What if I don't want to meet him?" Sherlock countered snottily, moving away from them toward the window. "He did toss me out. Remember, dear boy? Unwanted from the very beginning?"
"He tossed your Mom out. And yeah, I remember! A few seconds ago you hit me for it! Twice!" Nico followed him across the room, dogged and determined. "Charles has the Soul of our Father. He's not actually him."
Sherlock stared long and hard at the Meridii Family Tree. "Would you put my name on it?" he asked quietly.
"Gladly."
Sherlock turned sharply and studied his Brother with renewed intensity. "After all this time? After all the denials?"
"Gladly," he said, repeating himself. "Yours and your Mate's," Nicolaus answered honestly. "Left with only my thoughts, memories and fears, I knew I should have acknowledged you long ago. But I was afraid."
"That I would steal the honor of the Meridii name?" He rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Commodus."
"You know, I can take care of myself, Brother!" Sherlock growled bitterly. "Or do you need me to hit you a third time before you realize that? I'm not some wilting flower to be hidden away because the family you deny me part of, is being forever hunted down by a lunatic!"
"I know that." He had personally sparred enough times with him over the years to know his Brother could defend himself easily, with any number of weapons, and particularly well with his fists. "But what of your son? Your descendants? Remember them, dear boy?" he chided, totally mocking Sherlock's tone. "It's bad enough Commodus hunts down every Meridius he can find. I did not want him hunting you down too."
"And what makes you think he would come after me?" he asked. "When no one even knows I exist as part of this bloodline you've sheltered for millennia?"
"Because I can't guarantee it. And he would do it to hurt me, which would hurt Maximus."
"And suddenly it's not a threat anymore?" Sherlock challenged. "Has something happened? Did you kill the Roman swine and not tell anyone? Is that why you're so free with the Tree and the emotional breakdown you're clearly having?"
"My family is now by my side. All of them. And I want the one part that's been missing. You."
"And to hell with the consequences, eh?"
"Something like that," Nico muttered.
"You're a romantic…" He didn't say it with conviction. "Wait! All your family? Including Sofya and Meridia?"
Nico nodded.
"Well your lovely children, obviously didn't get the brains from the Meridius side of the family gene pool, considering they never figured out there even was a Meridia!"
"Samuel Winchester has Meridia's Soul." Nico ignored the thinly veiled, nastily sarcastic rant. He'd heard it a few dozen times before any way.
"Ahhh! Gigantor! I remember seeing him, when he was in Geneva." Sherlock then gave him an expectant look. "Do the kids know that the new Italian is Stepmom? No, wait! That's the Pirate…"
"No! They don't know Ernesto is Sofya," Nico answered. "And they won't be knowing for a while yet." He had stopped being surprised at what Sherlock could figure out without apparent need to be told, quite some considerable time back.
A few centuries or so.
Right around the time when his sibling had been the one to deduce, precisely where Lucien had buried him and the still smoldering remains of Warren Lazarus.
"Does he even know?" he asked, pushing the issue a little more.
"Now isn't the time to tell him."
"Hold the front page!" Holmes snorted. "I'm having déjà vu all over the place!"
Nicolaus seriously wanted to smack the crap out of him by that point, but heroically restrained himself.
"So when do I get to meet the wife, the ex-wife, former wife?" Sherlock went through a few more colorful descriptors. "And more importantly, does the man know about his Grandpa?" He just looked at his brother suspiciously. "Can I be there when he finds out?"
"Front row seats. I'll hide behind you." Nico made for the nearest armchair and tried really hard not to yawn.
"Did I wake you up?" Sherlock asked, smirking.
"It's two am," he pointed out, but then Sherlock had certainly inherited his own inability to tell time zones.
Plus the man never slept.
He pulled out his pocket watch and looked down at it, adjusting it for the proper time. "Some things are beyond waiting for a decent hour. The game is afoot!"
"It is? Oh, yes," Nico frowned. "Yes, it is! Do you have a bag packed?"
"I actually packed two of them." Watson waved vaguely from the chair he had long since settled into.
He knew the conversation he'd been listening to had definitely been a long time coming between the two siblings, and he was happy to see they were both open to it.
They could be separated for years, but the moment they were put back in the same room together, they went straight to being siblings again like they'd never been apart.
He had always wondered just what reasoning Nicolaus had used for never acknowledging Sherlock as his family. He knew Sylum's Clan Leader was not the type to be embarrassed by him, despite his eccentricities, and he'd had ample demonstration over the years of just how much Nico loved his Brother, and would do anything for him.
It was only once the darkness descended onto Sherlock's life, that he truly got to know Nico that much better, and realized it was all about fear.
Not fear of Sherlock but for him.
The Meridii attracted a lot of trouble.
It might well have been a running joke that they were all just trouble magnets, but the truth of it was, that a powerful family name could always bring unwanted attention.
Then of course, there was Commodus.
Not that Sherlock ever cared about Commodus.
He just wanted to be with Nicolaus.
He trusted Nico, even with the darkness.
Only Nico.
Always.
Mainly because Nico was always there when it mattered most.
Watson had seen him drop everything and come to his Brother's side at a moment's notice, no questions asked.
He had been there when Sherlock had his worst breakdown, and taken care of him for two years straight, leaving his Clan in the hands of Antonio, his Second. Watson wondered if Tony had even recalled that time during the crisis in Egypt.
And he made a note to talk to him about it.
A friendly reminder of times past, wasn't always a bad thing.
"Excellent! Then we'll leave at first light. Ring the bell for Thomas would you? There's a good man!" Nico chuckled. "We'll get you a room. You can shower and eat something."
"We'll go when Lucas has been buried." Sherlock laid a hand on his brother's arm. "Timothy needs his Papa."
Nico turned and looked at him, smiling fondly. "You are all that's left of my Roman Family." He cupped his cheek. "Yes, all of them returned to me in one era or the next, but you never left me. And I treasure your presence in my life. Every day."
Sherlock coughed, fiddled with his collar, and realized he was blushing.
Only it was too late to do anything about it.
"Then if I'm to be finally introduced to the family, let's not start with me stealing you away when they need you." He leaned into his brother's touch, reveling in it for a fleeting moment. "Afterwards we'll go see Professor X and see if he's really that keen on being inside my head."
Nicolaus leaned over and kissed his brow. "I love you, my Brother."
"And I you. But let's not spoil things getting too girly, shall we?"
Author's Note: Did you read the scene above? If Not, Go, Go, GO! Get back up there! Shoo!
2nd Author's Note: #1 Myth in Sylum – Nicolaus is the basis for Sherlock Holmes. Nico did in truth meet Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but it proved to be the stories of his brother's exploits and escapades that most inspired the famous detective series. Mycroft was based on Nicolaus, but he still wonders exactly how that happened.
3rd Author's Note: Robert Downey Jr. – this Sherlock is based purely off the movie series starring Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law. Just in case you missed that. Or got confused.
4th Author's Note: This has no association with the BBC's 'Sherlock'.
Click the link above for the end credits to Evolution.