Sherlock Holmes & The Knights Templar

Chapter 15

“Keep your eyes fixed on me,” Moriarty ordered, as he took John’s chin in his hands. John felt momentary lost in the past when Moriarty said the words, “Keep your eyes fixed on me. Sherlock…”, John thought sadly.

“John pay attention,” Moriarty commanded.

John nodded, and then Moriarty continued, “John, stare into my eyes, when you see me slide out of focus, close your eyes. At first you will see black, then different colors, and then gray. After the gray, your vision will open up and you will see me. I will be your guide to the next plateau and you must do follow my instructions explicitly. Do you understand?” Moriarty asked.

John answered, “Yes, I understand, “even though he didn’t.

Moriarty crossed his legs and gestured for John to do the same. “John, look into my eyes.”

John felt awkward as he gazed into Moriarty’s brown limpid eyes. For a moment all he did was flush under Moriarty’s intense scrutiny and then just like that Moriarty slid out of focus and John closed his eyes. Black, then red, then pink, blue, every color that John could think of appeared before him, and then the grey. Moriarty stood on a type of clear ledge. “John, you are doing fine. Now focus on my voice, we are going to transmute into Jerusalem 1125 A.D., now close your eyes and follow my voice with your sub-conscious mind. Come on, that’s it John, follow me.”

When John opened his eyes he appeared to be in the middle of a battle, “Jesus,” John thought in horror as men hacked at each other with large heavy broadswords.

A firm grip on his arm kept John from screaming, throwing up or both. “Come on, John,” Moriarty shouted above the din. John gripped Moriarty’s arm and didn’t let go until they were safely inside of a building that appeared to be a Mosque. Once inside Moriarty led John to a torch lit room. Moriarty held out a set of chain mail, with the markings of the Knights Templar on the cloth type robe that slipped over the chain mail. “John, we will both appear as two of the eight Knight Templars. So, no need to worry about your identity. John, there are eight Knight Templars that are known; however it is the ninth mysterious Knight Templar we are after for he is the Knight that is the scribe.” John nodded as he followed Moriarty down several torch lit passageways; he paused before a heavy wooden, iron studded door. “John, you are about to become part of history.” Moriarty whispered as he opened the door.

 As they entered the torch lit room the head Knight held up his sword and chanted, “A Templar Knight is truly a fearless Knight and secure on every side for his soul is protected by the armor of faith just as his body is protected by the armor of steel. He is thus doubly armed and need fear neither demons nor men.”

John swallowed and the hair of the back of his neck stood on end, for he was a Knight Templar, a part of history. Moriarty watched John and smiled, “John, you and I together will make history. We will be rulers of the world, John. You and I John, you and I…” Moriarty whispered into John’s ear.

Over the next few days, Moriarty and John trained with the broadsword and at one point Moriarty stopped sparing to stare at John’s sweaty body, “John, perhaps we should rest.” Moriarty as he took John’s arm and led him over to a wooden bench.

Moriarty stared at John lustfully as John whipped a trickle of sweat from running into his eyes. If John, noticed he didn’t acknowledge it, which only increased Moriarty’s ardor. “Moriarty, it’s one thing to train, but quite another to fight in battle. I don’t believe in the Crusades, I think that they were brutal and immoral.”

Moriarty grabbed John’s  arm,”SSh, do you want to get us burned at the stake?” Moriarty hissed.

John fell silent as the gravity of his situation weighed heavily upon him. He missed Sherlock, he missed home. “I’m going to go pray,” John said, for he knew that Moriarty would not join him in prayers; therefore it was the only place that John could truly be alone. John entered a small darkened room, knelt down and crossed himself and bowed his head and mentally prayed. “Heavenly Father, it has been a long time since I have prayed from my heart. I beg you to have mercy on me and send me home. I don’t care whether I am sent home dead or alive, just please rescue me from this living hell and protect my Sherlock. Give me courage, dear Lord.” John said as he wept upon the altar. Moriarty stood in the doorway, as he mentally memorized John’s face as he prayed. “Like an angel he was,” Moriarty thought as a stream of light from overhead lit up John’s face. “I must paint him like this,” Moriarty thought as he leaned against the doorway. “John, truly looked like he was in communion with the Holy Father,” Moriarty mused as he uneasily backed out of the room.

Sherlock raced through the night. Isaac agreed to meet him and Sherlock wanted to hasten the meeting before Isaac changed his mind. Sherlock had known Isaac for years. He was a mystic and had taught Sherlock how to meditate and strengthen the power of his mind palace. Sherlock took a taxi to Isaac’s house and as they passed the Dome of the Rock, Sherlock thought of John. “Where are you, John?” Sherlock whispered aloud. As the cab rolled to a stop, Sherlock hopped out and approached Isaac’s house. It hadn’t changed much over the years and was a typical Middle Eastern square-like structure, with windows up high and a sleeping place on the roof. Sherlock sometimes wondered if  Isaac had occupied the house for thousands of years. He smiled at the illogical thought and before he could knock, Isaac answered the door.

“Come, Sherlock, tell me what you have been up to?” Isaac asked as if they had just seen each other the previous week. After offering a glass of warm mint tea, Sherlock thanked his host and leaned back against the cushions of the low couch and took a long drag from the hookah in front of them. “Isaac,” Sherlock said as the blue-like smoke encircled his features like a snake. “I beg you to forgive me, but time is of the essence, could we just this once skip the social customs and get down to the reason I have come.”

Isaac looked surprised for a moment and then nodded. “Tell me Sherlock, what is it that troubles you?”

Sherlock told Isaac about John’s disappearance, Moriarty’s cryptic phone messages, the dead members of the order, the DNA helix, transmutation and Sherlock’s suspicions.

Isaac puffed on the hookah for a few moments and then spoke, “Sherlock, I think I know of a way to communicate with John through your mind palace; however I am not sure if I can tell you how to find him or not.”

Sherlock nodded and took such a long drag on the hookah that the water bubbled continuously for a few seconds. “Isaac, I’m ready to go to my mind palace with you.”

Isaac nodded and stared into Sherlock’s eyes. In just a few minutes Isaac’s face blurred out of view and Sherlock went quickly through all the colors of meditation until he was in the soft white rooms of his mind palace. Sherlock brought up the image of John and stood before virtual John for so long that he jumped when Isaac cleared his throat. “Sherlock, we need to get to the part of your mind palace that contains the information we need.” Sherlock bid good-bye to virtual John, as he wandered through white glowing hallways; somewhere behind those doors was Redbeard, John and everything that Sherlock held most dear. With an almost Herculean effort Sherlock focused on the task at hand, as he and Isaac made their way through the labyrinth of Sherlock’s mind palace. They finally arrived at a door that looked like the door of an ancient castle. Sherlock and Isaac silently made their way into the room as Sherlock began to rummage through piles of old parchment. “Where are they?” Sherlock shouted, causing the room to shimmer.

“Sherlock, focus, John’s life may depend on it,” Isaac sternly commanded.

Sherlock took a deep breath and began to carefully read through each scroll. It seemed like hours later, when he and Isaac stopped for a moment. “Sherlock, keep going, trust your instincts,” Isaac whispered encouragingly. Sherlock nodded and wiped the beads of sweat that had begun to form on his forehead. It was then that he found it, an old brown piece of parchment. Sherlock handed the scroll to Isaac.

“Isaac, what is this?” Sherlock asked shakily.

Isaac turned the document over in his hands and looked at the outside, there could be no mistaking the seal on the outside of the document, it was the Cross of the Knights Templar.