John Watson (
ihadabadday) wrote2019-01-07 09:25 pm
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A Righteous Return - AU - Locked to
seaweed_writes
Once Upon a Time in a kingdom far away and filled with magic and dragons, there was a King and his Wizard. Together they did great things, bringing peace to the world and to its people. They were the best of friends, as close as any two men could be. Until one day the King was gravely injured defending his Wizard...
He gasped as the arrow struck his shoulder. Just between the gap in his armor. Too low to be anything but fatal. He knew that. But he was the King of England. He wielded Excalibur. He would not go down with out a fight. Of course /he/ would call him foolish for this. For defending him in this way. He was a sorcerer, a wizard, after all.
His knees gave out as the blood loss started to affect him. He barely noticed as strong arms came around him.
"It's okay." He assured the man, "You'll be okay. If... I'll return." He coughed a bit, feeling the pain. But it was all okay. His friend. His Wizard was alive. He pressed Excalibur into the man's hands.
"Return this to the Lady of the Lake. Please. It needs to be safe." He knew what would happen if it was in the wrong hands.
He didn't have much time. He knew that. He reached up and touched his Wizard's face. "Find me again." He managed before he closed his eyes, arm falling limply to his side.
The King of the Brits, of England, was gone.
---
John shot up in bed, gasping for breath. He pressed a hand to his face and took a deep breath. Another nightmare. So many had piled up over the years. Loosing Arthur, the two Great Wars. Even recent events were enough to make him frightened. He got out of bed and walked over to the window. After opening the blinds, he stared out at the blinking lights. Albion had changed so much in recent time. Just the past hundred years alone. He let out a sigh.
There had been one time in all these years the had started to feel Arthur return. During the second Great War... The need for him was great then than it had been years earlier during the first. He pressed a fist to the window and sighed. "Arthur, we need you..." There was the unspoken, I need you. It was always unspoken. He had never dared tell the King. He couldn't, not when he had a Queen that adored him so and who he adored in return.
He let out a long held breath and looked back out to the night sky. He didn't need this flatshare, but it was convenient to be around people again.
---
He had been living with Sherlock Holmes for three months now. Just long enough to know he could stand the man, but not long enough to really know how he felt about the man. Other than... Okay.
John had left Sherlock lying on the couch when he went off to work. The A&E. He loved working in emergency medicine. He could help people and keep an eye out for Arthur and the Knights.
Of course, this was the day when a psych patient broke out and started to wave a scalpel at everyone. John stepped in front of a nurse only to get stabbed in the neck. He put his hand up to press against the wound, trembling. Oh, shock. He slowly sunk to the ground as he heard his coworkers starting to swarm.
And it was about fifteen minutes later that Sherlock's mobile started going off.
He gasped as the arrow struck his shoulder. Just between the gap in his armor. Too low to be anything but fatal. He knew that. But he was the King of England. He wielded Excalibur. He would not go down with out a fight. Of course /he/ would call him foolish for this. For defending him in this way. He was a sorcerer, a wizard, after all.
His knees gave out as the blood loss started to affect him. He barely noticed as strong arms came around him.
"It's okay." He assured the man, "You'll be okay. If... I'll return." He coughed a bit, feeling the pain. But it was all okay. His friend. His Wizard was alive. He pressed Excalibur into the man's hands.
"Return this to the Lady of the Lake. Please. It needs to be safe." He knew what would happen if it was in the wrong hands.
He didn't have much time. He knew that. He reached up and touched his Wizard's face. "Find me again." He managed before he closed his eyes, arm falling limply to his side.
The King of the Brits, of England, was gone.
---
John shot up in bed, gasping for breath. He pressed a hand to his face and took a deep breath. Another nightmare. So many had piled up over the years. Loosing Arthur, the two Great Wars. Even recent events were enough to make him frightened. He got out of bed and walked over to the window. After opening the blinds, he stared out at the blinking lights. Albion had changed so much in recent time. Just the past hundred years alone. He let out a sigh.
There had been one time in all these years the had started to feel Arthur return. During the second Great War... The need for him was great then than it had been years earlier during the first. He pressed a fist to the window and sighed. "Arthur, we need you..." There was the unspoken, I need you. It was always unspoken. He had never dared tell the King. He couldn't, not when he had a Queen that adored him so and who he adored in return.
He let out a long held breath and looked back out to the night sky. He didn't need this flatshare, but it was convenient to be around people again.
---
He had been living with Sherlock Holmes for three months now. Just long enough to know he could stand the man, but not long enough to really know how he felt about the man. Other than... Okay.
John had left Sherlock lying on the couch when he went off to work. The A&E. He loved working in emergency medicine. He could help people and keep an eye out for Arthur and the Knights.
Of course, this was the day when a psych patient broke out and started to wave a scalpel at everyone. John stepped in front of a nurse only to get stabbed in the neck. He put his hand up to press against the wound, trembling. Oh, shock. He slowly sunk to the ground as he heard his coworkers starting to swarm.
And it was about fifteen minutes later that Sherlock's mobile started going off.
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John watched Sherlock, focusing on parts of him he had been too distracted to watch last night. Dear god. The man was gorgeous. He let out a breath. It wouldn't do to get worked up over it.
"Greg can kiss my arse." He laughed.
As for how he found the knights... John sighed. "With Greg I got a headache in the back of my head. It was steady and low. But it may be different with the other knights."
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When he was dressed, he went into the loo and got his hair into a working order. He wanted to be well put together before Greg arrived. He left the door open so he could still talk to John.
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John let out a breath and laid back on the bed. He had wanted to spend all day in this with Sherlock. But no...
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"John, you need to get ready. Lestrade could be here any- " He stopped speaking when there was a knock on the door from the stairs to the living room.
"-Moment." Sherlock smiled and shook his head, giving John a quick kiss before heading to the living room.
"Graham. Take a seat. John should be with us in a moment."
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Greg looked at Sherlock. "What's the emergency?"
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"Fucking hell. Are you kidding me?"
"No, we're not." John answered as he came out of the bedroom.
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"No, we are not kidding you, and yes, I am Arthur, or I suppose some sort of reincarnation of him. Aren't you supposed to bow at my feet or grovel or something?" He asked in a dull tone, but with the hint of a smirk on his face.
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John chuckled and went to get them all something to drink. He felt they would all need something harder than tea.
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"We will still have to find the others, and considering who has been found so far, there is a very good chance that some, if not all of them will be people that we know. John seems to have a good sense for who he is looking for. He says that something is going to happen soon, so we will need to look for the other knights as soon as possible."
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There was laughing from the kitchen. John was leaning against the counter, laughing at the thought.
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Sherlock shook his head, trying not to laugh, but after a moment, he couldn't hold it back, and he joined them with his deep, baritone chuckle.
When he was done, he wiped his eyes and got serious again, looking back at John in the kitchen. "So, how do you propose that we go about finding the rest of the knights?" He asked. "A search of our acquaintances first would be best, I believe. Perhaps Molly, as she would be the closest acquaintance, or.." He shuddered. "Mycroft."
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John came out of the kitchen with tea for everyone. And biscuits for Sherlock. He set the tray down and kissed the taller man's cheek. "I can cast a spell that would fling a net across London. It would alert me to any possible Knights faster. But the catch is that I would be knocked out for two days after."
Greg nearly spit out his tea when John kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Alright, there's been too many revelations."
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"Yes, Graham. John and I have feelings for each other. I thought everyone at the Yard already thought this was the case, even though we have only known each other for a short time."
He shook his head and looked to John. "If that is the easiest way to find the others, then that is what we should do. Gavin can set a perimeter around Baker Street, and of course I will be here to protect you." He looked over at Excalibur, then back to John.
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Morgana had been his equal, and he had spent the years ensuring he was strong enough to take her on without loosing Arthur. But he wasn't ready for a fight yet. If she approached now, he might not survive the battle.
"But that is a chance I am willing to take." He tossed back his tea and then went to settle on the floor.
Greg looked between them. "Christ. Alright. There's no success in arguing with both of you."
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He was regretting that decision now.
"Morgana." He said, hovering protectively close to John. "She is another wizard that attempted to kill me in the past." He made an educated guess. "And you believe that she or a reincarnation of her will attempt to attack you while you are incapacitated."
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The blonde settled down lotus style, his palms resting facing up on his knees. He began to whisper, just under his breath, a language that was long dead. But the words still carried immense power. He spoke, low pulses of power extending out and across London.
Greg looked at Sherlock. "Shall I stand guard downstairs?"
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He almost didn't hear Greg's words, they took a moment to permeate through to his brain.
"You cannot keep watch the entire 2 days that he will be recovering, but if you would like to while he is casting the spell, that would be greatly appreciated. While you are there, call in a 24 hour guard for the area for the next 72 hours as well. Better to be safe and give it extra time."
He turned back to John, ignoring Greg and everything else in the world except for the man sitting beside him.
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He pushed himself into a sitting position. He was in their bed. Sherlock must have moved him. He rubbed a hand over his face and let out a breath. God.
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He yelled down to Greg to start the watch and that he was relieved of duty, then went back to the bedroom and looked over John. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but there was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.
Oh so gently, Sherlock wiped the sweat from his brow and settled into his watch. He had his computer to give him something to do, but more often than not, he found that he couldn't concentrate, he was too worried about John.
The hours passed so slowly, but he never slept, never ate, never left John's side except to use the loo a few times, and even then he kept the door open and was in there as little time as he could be.
He paced, he sat, he worried, he pondered, he planned for the worst, plotting escape routes and backup plans and backup plans to those backup plans
But nothing ever came to fruition. It was 49 hours, 36 minutes, and 10 seconds after he collapsed that John came to and groggily sat up in bed.
"John." Sherlock's voice was harsh from lack of use and his parched dry throat. "You need food, and water. I knew you would be awake soon, so I took the liberty of ordering your favorite Indian food. And I have some water here on the counter. Take a few sips but not too much at first."
Even though Sherlock was parched and his throat dry, he held up the glass and gently put it to John's lips, not even thinking of himself, only ever of John.
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John was glad that Sherlock had stayed by his side. But he never wanted it at the Expense of his flatmate's health. But he also knew there was no arguing with Sherlock.
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Now, he didn't want to think about the temptation. It had been there, as he sat and waited and John slept. But he hadn't succumbed. He was stronger than that, he had to believe it.
"You need food." He didn't even give John a ressponse, just sat the glass down on the bedside table where John could reach it and went to the kitchen. He warmed up John's Indian food, then brought it to him, setting it on his lap with a towel under it so it wouldn't burn him.
"Eat, John."
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There was still much they didn't know about one another. But he was going to stay by Sherlock. Stand by him. God help him, but he knew he loved this man. This brilliant, amazing man.
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"Did you feel any other.. awakenings? Are there other knights that are close, in London?"
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"There are a handful of points. It will take a bit for them to wake. I cannot tell who yet, as my magic is still weak."
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