The Labyrinth of London

A Sherlock/Labyrinth Crossover

The Lords of London

Inspired By

"The Thin White Sleuth…"

By

Pika-la-Cynique

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat and Gatiss,

Henson and Doyle,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

Summary: Once upon a time, Mycroft Holmes wished away his baby brother to the Goblin King. Once upon another time, Mycroft saved the Goblin King. TW: Suicide attempt.

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

Chapter I: Labyrinth

&%&%&%

"Mummy, do I have to watch him?" Mycroft asked with a sigh.

"You need to take on more responsibility with your brother, Mycroft. You say you want to be in government. If you can't take care of one intelligent seven year old than how can you take care of a nation?" Mrs. Holmes said.

"Yes, Mummy," the fourteen year old said.

&%&%&%

Mycroft was reading through Crime and Punishment for school. He had decided that the crime was the book being written and the punishment was having to read it. Actually, it was the second worst punishment Mycroft was going through.

"Mycroft, do you want to play pirates?" Sherlock asked.

"For the sixth time, Sherlock, I said no," Mycroft said. He shifted in the reading chair so that the light streaming from the windows in the sun room would not be hitting his eyes directly.

"Mummy said you had to play with me," Sherlock said.

"No, she said I had to watch you. There is a difference," Mycroft said.

"But if I get bored…" Sherlock said, purposefully trailing off to let a variety of horrors cross his elder brother's mind.

"I can't have you setting the pond on fire again," Mycroft said. He rubbed his face. "Would you like to play a game of chess?"

Sherlock eagerly brought over the chess set, his pirate hat askew on his head. "Yes! I love playing chess!"

Mycroft huffed and continued reading his book as he played against Sherlock. The game went on for half an hour before Sherlock said, "Check!"

Mycroft looked up from Dostoevsky. "What?"

Sherlock motioned to the board and grinned. "Check."

The elder Holmes looked at the board and thought over the moves. He realized his mistake and how careless he had been. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Can't stand me winning, cake face?"

Mycroft grimaced and focused on the game. In five moves, Sherlock was triumphant.

"I WON! I WON!" Sherlock shouted as he danced around the room.

"Oh, shut up, freak," Mycroft said.

Sherlock stopped dancing. "Take that back. I'm not a freak. Mummy says you're not supposed to call me that."

"I can call you whatever you want. Mummy isn't here. If you tell Mummy, I'll tell her why that frog was dissected," Mycroft growled.

"It was dead already! I wanted to know how it died!" Sherlock said.

"I wish I could get rid of you!"

"You can't! The only way you could do that is if you killed me, and everyone would know you did it," Sherlock said.

"Oh, really? Do you ever consider that I am a wizard?" Mycroft said as a convenient strike of lighting followed. Odd. Don't remember a storm being in the forecast.

Sherlock laughed. "Wizards aren't real. I'm too old for those games."

Mycroft began playing off Sherlock's fears, walking slowly to his brother. "I have the ability to cast you to a place where it is dark, damp, and small. It's an oubliette. It's where you put people when you want to forget about them. I'll send you to one that will cause even Mummy to forget about you."

Sherlock began walking away from Mycroft. "Where… where is an oubliette?"

Mycroft wracked his brain trying to remember where he had read the term. A story. Some story about… "The Labyrinth. Do you know what is at the center of the Labyrinth?"

"A minotaur?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"No. Much worse. The Goblin King." Another strike of lightning. "He takes freakish children that are wished away by wizards like me. He turns them into goblins. Stupid little goblins that do nothing but bad things."

Sherlock shook his head. "You wouldn't. I don't want to be bad. I'm not… I'm not a freak. I'm not a freak! Mummy…"

"Mummy isn't here." Mycroft said.

Sherlock hit the wall and stopped. The sensible part of him was trying to tell him that Mycroft was making the story up. Yet a small part of him believed. "Please don't, Mycroft. I'm sorry. Please don't wish me away."

Mycroft shook his head. "Too late. I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now!"

The elder Holmes brother instantly regretted his words. Sherlock had a look of betrayal and horror. The worst part of it was the desperate longing in his eyes for things to go back to the way they were, begging to know what he did wrong to deserve such a punishment.

Mycroft was about to apologize when a great wind swept through the room, causing all the windows and doors to open. He turned his head to look at the suddenly open room. He knew that the windows and doors were all locked. They should not have swung open.

"Sherlock, we need to go further in the house. Something is…" Mycroft turned and saw that Sherlock was gone. "Wrong. SHERLOCK!"

There was what Mycroft could only describe as demonic laughter. He tried to identify where the noise was coming from, but only saw vague shapes. Mycroft grabbed an umbrella that had been knocked to the ground as it was the closest thing to a weapon in the room.

"SHERLOCK!"

Another gust of wind went through the room. Something like dust was caught in Mycroft's eyes.

When he was finally able to open his eyes, Mycroft saw a man in black armor and wild blonde hair standing menacingly in the room. The man's blue eyes were mismatched as one eye was too dilated, adding a sense of otherworldliness that would be clear even without the strangeness of his clothing. Glitter swirled around him.

"Who are you?" Mycroft said, pointing his umbrella at the man.

The man in armor titled his head to the side.

"No! But that can't be! You're just a story!" Mycroft said.

"We are all stories in the end, Mycroft," the man said, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Mycroft said softly, "You're the Goblin King."

The Goblin King grinned and showed his pointed teeth. "That I am, Mycroft."

"You took my brother away," Mycroft said.

"You wished him away to me, as all powerful wizards do," Jareth said, mimicking Mycroft's accent on the last few words.

"Give me back my brother!" Mycroft said, "I didn't really want him to be turned into a goblin!"

The Goblin King crossed his arms. "What's said is said."

"Please, I have to get him back!" Mycroft said.

Jareth held out his hand and made a crystal appear in his hand. "I've brought you, a gift."

Mycroft took a step back. "Whatever it is, I don't want it."

"Are you sure? It may look like a crystal…" Jareth began rolling the crystal between his hands. "… but if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams. This is not a gift for an ordinary boy who takes care of a freak. Do you want it? Then forget your brother."

"You could be handing me secrets of the universe and I still wouldn't trust you. 'Beware of Greeks bearing gifts'."

Jareth shrugged and made the crystal disappear.

"There has to be some way to get my brother back," Mycroft said, "Where is he? I'll fight legions to bring him back. He did nothing to deserve to be turned into a goblin."

Jareth made a grand sweep towards the door that he had entered. "He's there, inside my castle."

Mycroft stepped forward, umbrella still gripped tightly in his hands. "Is that the Labyrinth? With the Castle Beyond the Goblin City?" Mycroft turned around and found that is home was gone.

"Indeed it is," Jareth said.

"What do I have to do?" Mycroft asked.

With another wave of his hand, a clock with thirteen Roman numerals appeared. "You have thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth before your baby brother becomes one of us, forever." The Goblin King disappeared entirely with the clock, but a few words echoed. "Such a pity."

Mycroft looked over the Labyrinth. "It's just a puzzle. A really, really big puzzle."

&%&%&%

Sherlock found himself in the middle of chaos. Strange creatures were running about or staring at him. Some spoke in whispers and others were shouting.

The room looked like a medieval throne room. Sherlock tried to move towards an exit, but a blonde man entered the room to block the doorway.

"Quiet! All of you!" the man said.

The goblins hushed and bowed. The man turned to Sherlock. "I am Jareth, King of the Goblins. In twelve hours and fifty-three minutes, you will be turned into a goblin unless your brother reaches the center of the Labyrinth. Do you understand?"

Sherlock looked around and saw another exit with stairs. He ran towards it but as soon as he had one foot on the staircase, Jareth was there.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jareth said.

Sherlock took a few steps back. He stood in a boxing position "I'll make it very hard for you to hurt me."

"I have no desire to harm you," Jareth said.

Sherlock kept his hands up. The young boy kept his fear in check as much as a seven year old could.

Jareth walked into the throne room and knelt in front of Sherlock, hands up in a gesture of peace. "If you do not already know this, you will not believe me, but I will tell you anyway. I am one of the Good Neighbors and a close relative of the Fae. Because of that second part, I cannot lie. I shall not harm you while you are my ward, Sherlock."

"You will turn me into a goblin," Sherlock said softly.

"There are worse things. I mean, look at me. I'm a goblin. I think I could do worse than that," Jareth said, "Now why don't we…"

Jareth stopped, tilted his head, and then stood up. With a thought, a crystal appeared in Jareth's hand. "How in the worlds is he doing that?"

The Goblin King made the crystal pop. With a few quick steps, Jareth dropped out of the window and turned into his owl form.

&%&%&%

Mycroft was walking along the top of the stone maze. He had the umbrella he accidentally took from the house opened; he used it to help his balance.

"If Mary Poppins can do it, so can I," Mycroft muttered to himself.

An owl swooped by Mycroft with no noise, causing the older Holmes boy to tumble off the wall. When the owl came by again, Mycroft smacked the owl in the wing with the now closed umbrella.

The barn owl changed into the Goblin King. Jareth held up the torn edge of his white feathered cloak. "I quite liked this. It will be an annoying job for the tailor."

Mycroft kept the umbrella in front of him. "Why are you interfering with me? You did not give me any rules."

"I am aware. However, something you were doing perplexed me and I wished to see how you did it. You didn't happen to run into any pixies, did you?" Jareth said.

"What?" Mycroft said.

"You were floating," Jareth said.

Mycroft's eyes lit up like a child when he sees his birthday presents. "Really?"

"Of course. I would not lie to you. I just wished to know what you ran into," Jareth said.

"There were some fairies at the gate and a dwarf," Mycroft said.

Jareth nodded. "There might have been a pixie infestation. I will have Hogsbreath get on that," Jareth said, "It's not really fair to have some Runners fly and others not to, is it?"

"Life isn't fair, but that's the way it is," Mycroft said with a smile.

Jareth nodded in agreement. "Have fun in the oubliette."

The ground opened up beneath Mycroft and he fell several feet. The ground did not swallow him, but remained opened. The Goblin King waved to Mycroft before flying off.

"How am I going to get out of here?" Mycroft said to himself. He smacked himself with his umbrella. "Of course. I can fly now!"

Mycroft had to rummage through the boxes of his childhood memories to remember what went with pixie dust. He kept his eyes closed

Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts… New books. Old books. Games. Puzzles. Cake. Mummy bringing home Sherlock. Sherlock saying 'my' for Mycroft as his first word.

When Mycroft opened his eyes, he was floating at the level of the path. He almost fell back into the oubliette, but he used his umbrella handle to catch into a hole in the stones. Struggling for a few moments, Mycroft pulled himself up onto the ground.

After taking a breath, Mycroft stood up and tried to fly again, but nothing happened. Mycroft began to run.

"All right. I never want to legwork ever again."

&%&%&%

Sherlock stood back and smiled at his work. The Castle Beyond the Goblin City was on fire and it was because he had convinced the residents that it would make the king toasty warm.

Just as Sherlock was going to start running away, a shadow came into view. "WHAT IN THE NINE CIRCLES OF HELL IS THIS?"

Sherlock gulped at the sight of the infuriated Goblin King. His cloak was singed and the bright fire gave Jareth a demonic glow.

With a few short orders, the goblins began to in some semblance of order began to put out the fire. Jareth threw several crystals in the air, causing it to downpour over just the castle. Jareth turned towards Sherlock. "I will deal with you later. I have to make sure none of my people are dead."

Sherlock blinked. He had not thought about people being killed. The boy sat down and felt ill.

&%&%&%

Less than a half-hour later, Jareth knelt down in front of the boy. Sherlock winced.

"No one is dead though many are singed," Jareth said.

"Are you going to kill me?" Sherlock asked.

"I said I would not harm you. Even if I wanted to, the Labyrinth would protect you," Jareth said.

Sherlock looked up at Jareth. "But you don't want to?"

Jareth shook his head. "No. I don't want to harm you. I just want to know why you set my home ablaze."

Sherlock shrugged.

"Do not lie to me. I play cards with the god of lies so I can tell that you did have a reason," Jareth said.

"I wanted to escape," Sherlock said.

"All right. Why this large of a fire though?" Jareth said.

Sherlock shook his head and looked down. "Do I have to tell you?"

"Yes, you do," Jareth said.

"I… um… don't call me… call me a freak," Sherlock said.

"Have you seen me? I can hardly call you such," Jareth said.

Sherlock gulped. "I like fires. I like things burning. I feel good when I burn things. I figured that I could escape and feel good at the same time."

Jareth nodded. "That is it I needed to know. Thank you, Sherlock."

Jareth pulled Sherlock to his feet. "You are not a freak, Sherlock. You are different, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing."

"Mummy tells me that. She tells Mycroft that sometimes too," Sherlock said.

Jareth ruffled Sherlock's curls. "I like the sound of your Mum. What do you like to do with her and Mycroft?"

"PIRATES!"

&%&%&%

A few hours later, Mycroft casually walked into the throne room. Sherlock was sitting in a child sized version of the Goblin King throne, casually ordering the goblins around while wearing a pirate hat.

"Ah, Mycroft. Took you long enough," Sherlock said. He waved a wooden sword at his brother.

"I had slight trouble with the Fire Gang," Mycroft said.

The Goblin King did not move from his casual sprawl on the throne. "Yes, I find them to be… creative in their distractions. Congratulations, Mycroft Holmes. You have set a new record at exactly four hours. The previous record holder was five hours and forty-two minutes. Oh, and you get your brother back. He has been quite the handful. He set my castle on fire."

Sherlock stood up from his chair. "A prisoner of war is allowed to escape from an enemy camp."

"I send a pair of shoes to your queen every year. You are hardly a prisoner of war. Merely a prisoner."

Mycroft pulled Sherlock to his side and patted his brother on the back. "Are you hurt?"

"Nope! We played pirates and chess!" Sherlock said.

Mycroft looked over to Jareth and tried to imagine the Goblin King dressed as a pirate.

"I shall send you home now," Jareth said, "Before you leave, Sherlock, I must tell you something. When you are of age and you call upon me, you will be granted one wish."

"What's the catch?" Sherlock said.

"Smart boy," Jareth said with a smile, "There are a few rules with this. One: No wishing for more wishes. Two: No bringing back the dead. Three: No creating of the dead. Four: You cannot make anyone fall in love with anyone else. Five: You cannot wish for someone to be the Goblin King. Do you understand?"

Sherlock nodded.

"May your shoes never pinch," Jareth said. He winked at Sherlock before the Holmes brothers were whisked back home.

The two boys stood in the sun room. Save for the setting sun, it was as if the Goblin King had never appeared in the Holmes mansion. Mrs. Holmes walked into the room.

"Good evening, boys. What did you get up to while I was gone?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

"We played goblins," Sherlock said, "Mycroft defeated them to save me."

Mycroft rested the umbrella against his shoulder. "Well, Sherlock set their castle on fire."

"How nice," Mrs. Holmes said as she smiled at how well the boys had played together.

&%&%&%

A/N: I have a feeling a lot of the Holmes' family dynamics is going to be proved wrong in Series Three, but this is my best shot at the moment.

SarianaJ's OC beat Mycroft's time in the Labyrinth. Somehow, she predicted what Mycroft's time was several months before I said it in "Up or Down?".

Take a wild guess at my feelings of Crime and Punishment. (Actually, it has a fantastic ending, it's the rest of the book I can't get into. I have no idea why. Dostoevsky and I believe in a lot of the same things morally.)