Sherlock Holmes: The Shadow From Beyond (10 page)

A swell troubled the surface just off of the horizon; it had movement and headed toward their direction. As it drew closer an eerie glow filled the waters around the swell, a jumble of otherworldly hues that morphed between violet and jade. Rapidly it approached, and the two men held fast expecting an impact of sorts.

“Hold tight Watson!” warned Holmes as he fell to the floor of the lifeboat, “Get low to keep your balance!”

The oncoming surge raised the lifeboat a few feet upon the surface as some large shimmering mass passed beneath them barely a dozen feet under the waterline. The duo held fast to keep their small craft from overturning, their bodies pressed flat along the bottom of the hull. The mass then continued onwards towards the Aurora as it receded into the distance.

As the glowing swell approached the steamer it slowed and vanished below the surface. There was a slight dramatic pause as all was still for a few moments, but then the sea began to stir violently all about the vessel and the glow returned. Waves rose and fell violently, and froth sprayed high as a large disturbance agitated the lie of the ship from underneath. The waters about the Aurora were brightly illuminated now, and the lights cast bizarre reflections along the steamer’s hull that lent an eerie atmosphere to the scene.

The Baker Street duo regained their balance in the small craft and stared in amazement at the sight unfolding before them under the light of a bright gibbous moon. The deck of the Aurora was complete chaos as confused crewmen scurried about the deck. Many gestured overboard toward the churning waters below, others stood in shock.

The vessel rocked aggressively back and forth, sailors and equipment were sent toppling about the deck violently. Suddenly a mass of dark writhing tentacles rose from the depths; they gleamed with the rippling sheen of cascading water. They were long and thin, like wisps of smoke, and blacker than the star filled night sky. Dozens now encircled the entrapped ship, imprisoning it. They swayed back and forth in hypnotic rhythm with an otherworldly sound that had also mysteriously filled the air, a maddening tune of discorded piping that emanated from below the surface, echoing up from the multicolored hues whirling below.

The muscular appendages then began to probe the design of the ship, seeking out victims. They snaked between mast and cargo and probed vents and portholes with sucker tipped tendrils that dripped foul acidic ichors. The beast had brought the scents of the deep with it, and the air was fetid with the stench of seaweed, rotting fish and salted brine.

The crew ran about deck screaming orders or gesticulating wildly. Some grabbed at weapons to fight off the monstrous threat, others hid, gripped by fear. Harpoons, rifles, knives, even oars were swung about in harried but useless defense. Dozens more of these tentacles had wrapped themselves about the ship’s hull, curling around railings and weaving through rigging. Free appendages caused havoc as they thrashed about the deck, crewmen were tossed left and right, limbs were torn from torsos and bodies rent to pulpy masses of gore under their crushing weight.

After a few stunned moments of disbelief Holmes and Watson began to pull greedily on the oars in an attempt to increase the distance between them and the horrific battle that raged about the Aurora. Neither could take their eyes off this titanic entity of the deep, this incredible sight of fantastic imagination made real.

The powerful limbs of the creature then went taught around the ship, and with loud snaps, creeks and moans the hull was abruptly crushed inward like an empty tin can.

Men screamed out in fear and confusion, some attempted to jump from the deck into the frothing sea but were snatched up by seeking tentacles and savagely torn apart before they even made the waves.

Smoke bellowed violently from the engines as the ship was pulled downward below the waterline by the massive beast, the escaping steam from the hot boilers screamed like a hundred train whistles going off at once. The bulkheads suddenly shuddered and blew, the ship was sundered, split almost in two, and with the horrific shouts of all left aboard the Aurora was dragged into the churning glowing depths below, belching air pockets and oil slicks in its wake.

After another five minutes there was little evidence the Aurora ever existed at all, as once again the waters of the Channel were quiet and still, the creature apparently satiated.

The bright moon illuminated the empty sea that surrounding the small lifeboat where Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson sat in shocked confusion. Many moments passed before either spoke, the two adventurers lost in a cloud of disbelief, unable to digest the scene that has just taken place before them.

“Poor Hassan.” mourned Watson. “What a horrible fate, a truly tragic end.” His shoulders sank, and his eyes began to tear up.

“A real hero.” Added Holmes while shaking his head. “Without his aid our fate would have been that of those poor sailors! I shall make sure his heroic death was not in vein, I will avenge his sacrifice, of this I promise!”

The two then took to the oars once again and began rowing toward the shoreline of France, now slightly visible in the foggy distance.

Not a word was spoken between them as both were in shock from witnessing the monstrous beast that rose out of the oceans salty depths. In shock form the blasphemous impossible creature that ended the Aurora’s voyage and took Hassan to a deep, dark, wet grave.

The Continent

Holmes and Watson finally arrived ashore after a tiring bout of rowing, and although quite far from the port of their planned disembarkation, they are at least somewhat dry and safe, if not fully exhausted.

After a quick observation of the starry skies above, Holmes set their location somewhere near to the town of Fecamp, not far from the city of Le Havre. He pointed toward the West, before setting off on foot, Watson in tow. After about thirty minutes of trudging along the rural road with their belongings, the two were picked up by some curious but friendly farmers who have headed out early by cart with their produce destined for the local market.

They offer to drop the pair at the train station at Le Havre, and explain that they were headed there to sell their wares anyways so it was of no further trouble. After climbing aboard, thanking them graciously and exchanging short pleasantries, Holmes and Watson lapsed into almost complete silence for the remainder of the cart ride. They were visibly shaken and overly tired from their exploits on the Channel and aboard the Aurora, and could do little but observe the beauty of the heavens above as the cart plodded along.

The farmers were polite enough to leave them be, they chatted quietly between themselves in peasant French as the horses continued along. It was around two a.m. and the skies were full of diamond bright stars that twinkled against the jet black void. Watson eyed them all with wonder, but Holmes was staring at a specific orange one that burned brightly.

The sun was just beginning to set the horizon aglow when the group pulled up before the train station, it was slightly after 5 a.m. and the world was just waking. The Baker Street flat mates were offered some of the farmer’s fresh produce to take along as a cold breakfast, of which they gladly accepted.

After having wished the locals many thanks and a good day, they purchased their tickets from a sleepy eyed attendant and loaded their belongings onto the next train leaving toward Reims, later to connect with one bound for Metz, France.

It was only after they had settled into their first class berth and lit their pipes that Watson finally spoke about the matter concerning the Aurora.

“Holmes! On God’s great Earth, never have I seen such a monstrosity as that which appeared under the Aurora and dragged it below! Pray tell me what are these strange occurrences are really all about? What was that thing!”

“I do not know my old friend,” replied Holmes. “But surely it was nothing from our God’s great Earth, perhaps from the Earth before His time. These are powers that I am not familiar with Watson, we enter realms of the unknown where darkness and shadow obscure the light of logic. A few days ago I would easily dismissed these elements of the supernatural as figments of an overly exercised imagination, but as our adventure unfolds I find myself repeatedly confronted by unexplainable otherworldly phenomenon.

“What I saw rise from those waters earlier has left me truly baffled, and definitely shaken. I am familiar with some of the sea creatures native to this area, but that is a species unknown to me, utterly alien in design and fabric. Considering that we saw only the beast’s appendages break the surface, just imagine the size of its remaining bulk below the waterline? Is the Channel even that deep?”

Holmes took a long moment, one of obvious inner contemplation, before he continued his theorem. “The deaths of Harper and Cowley also leave little room for scientific explanation. These are elements derived from the furthest realms of the cosmic gulf where mankind had not trod before. I admit that we enter this region blind and dumb, grasping for facts that may not be available to us.

“I am going to attempt some sleep now my good fellow, try to do the same as we have much hard travel ahead. If you cannot rest, then take the opportunity to browse the entries I have marked in Harper’s journal as they will shed further light on our situation. At our present speed and with stops and transfers, I calculate we shall arrive at Metz in about five hours. I wish you bonne nuit!” And with that Holmes pulled down his hat brim and slipped into slumber.

Watson had always been envious of Holmes’ ability to choose his sleep hours at a whim, in the sense that he simply decided to sleep while most of the world relied on actually being tired to do so. He could bring on this dream state like the turning of a switch, on or off. While working on a case, the detective would frequently pass a day or more without any sleep at all, his heightened state of mind driving him constantly onward.

The most baffling aspect was Holmes’ ability to waken exactly when he wished; his eyes would just pop open at the explicit moment he wanted; a one hour nap was exactly one hour long not a minute early or a minute late. He never awoke in a fatigued or clouded state in need of a coffee to steady himself as is wont by most of society. Upon wakefulness his faculties were clear and sharp and ready to continue forward with any task or work that needed attention.

Watson on the other hand was not so empowered, and his nerves were greatly shaken by the events of that dark night. He simply could not drift off as easily, and thus began to research the entries in Harper’s journal as noted by Holmes.

Interesting reading it definitely was, with much of the journal’s contents covering topics referencing the dark arts of an ancient pagan religion known as the ‘ Cthulhu Mythos’ one that somewhat paralleled the Christian religion as followed by millions of worshippers today. It explained that within this ancient mythos of assorted God-like beings, a group of powerful entities attempted to revolt against their leaders and usurp them from power, similar to the Satan tale in Catholicism. The rebellion, in this case versus the ‘Elder Gods’, was defeated and its members banished as punishment for the attempted revolt. The defeated beings involved in the rebellion were imprisoned, either between planes of existence, beyond or within certain star constellations in the infinite universe, within the dimensions between space and time, or in physical locations deep under the sea or beneath thousands of tons of stone. These exiled rebellious entities, referred to as the ‘Great Old Ones’ remain sleeping and dreaming in their prisons awaiting their possible release in the future.

Within these prisons their powers are held at bay and are reduced to mere elements of thought, but even with this reduced power they attempt to influence others. It is noted that they can contact members of mankind via telepathy or through powerful mental abilities that manifest themselves in the dreams of those targeted within the slumbering population of humanity. Those affected by these mental intrusions are usually possessed of weak mind, the uneducated and those suffering mental disabilities. Through the use of this telepathic messaging system, the Great Old Ones hope to influence the thoughts of those affected into acting on their behalf, eventually directing these victims through the complex stages of rituals that would lead to their release. Watson noticed that the cryptic quote: “That is not dead which can eternal lie. And in strange aeons even death may die.” had been underlined in the journal and realizes the link between its meaning and the sleeping imprisoned Great Old Ones.

It is also noted that certain passages found within the Necronomicon, as well as in other tomes of the occult, detail ways in which one may commune with these dread beings, and ceremonies are writ within these books that instruct on how to possibly free the Great Old Ones or their minions from their prisons and release them into our realm. Through arcane incantations, by using specific objects of dark antiquity and while performing certain ceremonies on unhallowed ground when precise constellations in the sky are aligned correctly, one may facilitate to arrange their release via temporal portals or gates.

The release of these beings would most probably result in the deaths of those who conjured them as partnership is not what these beings seek, they wish for their extrication by any means and will use mankind as tools to be discarded after use. In their multiple eyes, humanity is irrelevant. These malign creatures are bent only on destruction and would set out with one goal in mind, that of the complete annihilation of all life on our planet and any within our universe. Afterwards the Great Old Ones would rebuild our blasted world based on their interests, that of pure evil and decadence. One may imagine its parallel as being similar to the Christian religion’s version of the End of Days. Watson shuddered at the thought of the apocalypse and what it would mean for all mankind.