A Righteous Return - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

[ihadabadday]

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.

Comments

[ihadabadday]

"You were never a lowly copper Greg. Even before this. You're so much more." He said firmly, staring at the man. "You are brilliant and you do your job so well. Yes sometimes you're out of your element and need Sherlock's help. But those are the odd cases."

He shook his head. "You're brave and steadfast. You're kind and guiding. And if I ever hear you say you're a lowly copper again, I'll kick your arse."

"No. Sherlock doesn't know any of this. Magic goes against everything he knows. I thought it best that I not share that part of my life with him."

[seaweed_writes]

Greg took this all in, giving John a little smirk about the arse kicking comment. When John was done, he was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"So..." He finally started. "What... does this all mean? I mean, if you're the reincarnation of Merlin, and I'm the reincarnation of Galahad.. I mean.. does that change anythin'? Well, I mean, it changed everything, turned my world upside down, but.. will things be different now? Will I start doin' something else?" He had a million questions and no answers.

"I mean, there has to be a reason you sprung all this on me now. You can' just tell me, 'Hey, you're the reincarnation of a famous knight from an millennia ago and then just expect me to do nothin' about it."

[ihadabadday]

"I'm not a reincarnation Greg." He said after a moment, "I'm the same person I was then. It's been a very long life."

"I didn't wake you. You were already waking, I just helped it along. There is something threatening Britain. But I don't know what."

John got up. "Get back to where you were before I froze the room."

[seaweed_writes]

"Not a....." Greg paused. "That would make you.. a thousand years old. But... how.. and am I a relative of the original Galahad?" With every answer came more questions.

HIs mind was still boggling when Greg gave the command to get back where he had been. Sherlock was observant, if he moved even a bit the man would know, so he went back to where he hoped and thought he'd been standing, hoping he was close enough to not raise suspicion.

He did the best he could to try to clear his mind so he wouldn't look as boggled as he felt right now.

"Okay, I am ready. But you and I need to have a long talk, John Watson." He said in a stern voice, then went to the stance and position he has been in what now seemed like a lifetime ago.

[ihadabadday]

John just winked at him and then made sure it was in place before unfreezing the room.

"Sherlock, maybe a case is just what we need." He said to the man, "I'm fine."

He finished cleaning, or looking like he was cleaning and stepped into the sitting area.

[seaweed_writes]

Greg couldn’t help but give a small smile and a shake of his head, but before Sherlock could question him, he filled the man in on the case. Greg hadn’t even finished before the tall lanky detective was on his feet and gathering his coat and scarf.

“John, rest up. I may be late.” As much as Sherlock would have liked to have John along, he’d been in hospital not 24 hours ago.

He turned to Greg. “Let’s go, Gavin.”

[ihadabadday]

John huffed and then rolled his eyes. Fine then. Once Sherlock and Greg left, he threw himself on the couch. Damn it.

The lanky idiot was going to get himself hurt.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock was honestly surprised that John didn't put up more of a fight. It was strange, but something he would file away for later.

It ended up taking until near midnight. What has started out as barely a 7 turned out of be a solid 8 or maybe even a 9. It had mystery, intrigue, and more plot twists that that movie about dead people. Sherlock of course couldn't be arsed to remember its name.

By the time Sherlock returned to the flat, it was pat midnight. He assumed that John would be asleep, so he took the stairs quietly, avoiding the creaking third step, and and without a word, hung up his coat and scarf before turning towards the living room.

[ihadabadday]

John as asleep on the couch. He had removed the bandage from his neck. There was no wound, just a faint scar.

Sherlock had seen the wound when the nurses changed the bandage when he was in the hospital.

John shifted and moved onto his side. "Arthur..." he muttered. It was the same annoyed tone he tended to take with Sherlock from time to time.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock saw John's sleeping form and grabbed one of Mrs. Hudson's homemade afghans from the airing cupboard. He came back to gently lay it on John when he noticed.

Where was the scar? He'd almost been killed yesterday, and there was only the tiniest mark where the scalpel had only been millimeters away from his jugular.

He leaned in closer, trying to study the wound, when John turned over and muttered the one word.

Arthur.

The afghan dropped from Sherlock's hands, falling into a quiet pile on the floor at his feet. He could feel his world whiting out again. He could see knights, and magic and...

What was going on?

Without even realizing what he was doing, he put his hands to his head and yelled out ":Stop!" while shutting his eyes tight against the sudden throbbing pain in his head..

And in his shoulder.

[ihadabadday]

John was awake in an instant. He shot up and grabbed Sherlock's shoulders. "What is it? What happened? Sherlock!"

Panic gripped him. What was going on? Was this related to him? He wasn't sure. He pressed his forehead to Sherlock's. He had to see. See what Sherlock was. It would be the only way he could figure it out.

He didn't was harm to come to his flatmate. He cared for him. He... His throat tightened. He suspected he loved him. But that was neither here nor there.

"Relax. I have you. It's alright. You're safe." John whispered to the man.

[seaweed_writes]

The moment John shot up and pressed his forehead to his own, the pain stopped instantly, like a light switch had been turned off.

What was going on here? The mystery grew deeper and deeper.

Sherlock relaxed under John's touch. The visions came back, but this time it was real, not like he was watching it from afar, but like he was there. He could smell and touch and see everything, the grass under his feet and the mutton in the air from cookfires and the gleam of steel weapons and armor.

"What... is this?" He said, though one one around seemed to hear him speaking. He was here, but he was alone, and he had no idea what was happening to him. Was this a dream, or was it more?

[ihadabadday]

"I'm seeing what is in your mind right now." John said softly, "Trying to help..."

He let out a breath and slowly pulled back, keeping his hands on Sherlock's face.

"It's complicated what I am. But trust that all I want to do is help you Sherlock."

John sighed, thinking of Arthur, thinking the times they had argued, had made each other mad... He swallowed. God. This caused so much heartache. He had loved Arthur so much. And having him ripped away.

"Trust me?"

[seaweed_writes]

Even if Sherlock wanted to say something, he couldn't say or do anything. Of course he trusted John, he had trusted him from the first time they met.

But that still didn't explain what the hell all this was.

Everything in front of him faded to white. Then it faded back in, it still looked like the same place, pretty much, but there were no campfires, no knights, nothing except a man standing in front of him. He had long, flowing blue robes, and a matching blue pointed had. His face was mostly hidden behind thick white hair and a beard, but..


Those eyes.

Why did they look exactly like John's eyes?

"J-J-ohn?" He almost whispered.

[ihadabadday]

John got Sherlock on the couch and smiled at him. "I'm here. I have you." He promised.

He stroked the man's hair away from his face. "How is your head?" He asked quietly.

He had used the appearance of an old man as a disguise. That way people didn't notice if he never aged. Bloody dragon.

"Do you need anything?"

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock shook his head, bringing himself back to the real world. He blinked a couple of times, laser focusing in on John. It took a couple of moments for his brain to register what the man had said.

"It's... fine." He said, slowly. He felt slow and syrupy, and he didn't like it at all.

"I... I'm fine." He really was anything but fine, but he wanted nothing more than to go into his Mind Palace and try to figure this out.

[ihadabadday]

John nodded. "Lay down. It's alright." He urged the man.

He couldn't figure it out. Who was Sherlock? Those memories were familiar, but he couldn't quite place them.

He sighed and then covered Sherlock with the Afghan.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock held the afghan in his hands, staring at John.

"John. Why is there no injury on your neck?" He had to get to the bottom of this, and he was tired of all the questions with no answers. There was something going on, and he needed to know.

"

[ihadabadday]

"You won't believe me." John stood up, "it will be okay."

He didn't want to tell Sherlock. He couldn't. Not yet. He let out a breath and gave a small smile.

"Just get some sleep."

[seaweed_writes]

No. He wasn't going to let it go so easily.

"John." He stood up, tossing the afghan onto the couch. "There is something going on here. Tell me, and then I will tell you if I believe you." There was no way he was going to sleep now, even though it was not close to half one.

"Tell me. I've seen some.. unusual things lately, and I need answers."

[ihadabadday]

John let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "Christ. You're as annoying as he was." Sometimes Arthur got on every single last nerve that he had.

"Magic is real. I am a wizard." He answered.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock gave him a look of confusion. "I am as annoying as whom?" He asked.

But before he could ask anything further, John dropped that bomb on him. What in the world did he mean that magic was real? Darren Brown was the preeminent magician on Britain, but Sherlock could easily see through his tricks.

"A wizard? John. You are a doctor and a former solider. I have never seen you try to do any magic tricks, but I can imagine that you would be rubbish at it." He was not taking this seriously. Magic is real. What a preposterous notion.

[ihadabadday]

"Oh for the love of..." he sighed and flicked his hand, a ball of flame appearing above it.

"Not those damn magicians they tout they're magic. Real honest to god magic."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock could count the times in his life when he had been rendered completely speechless on one hand, and have fingers to spare

But that.. that.. well.. that had rendered him speechless.

It wasn't an illusion, he could see it with his own eyes, and even feel the warmth of the fire as it danced in his friend's hand.

"Magic.. like Merlin... the magician from the Arthurian legends... " He finally said, his voice barely over a whisper. He hesitated on the name.. like he was almost afraid to speak it.. His mind was cast back for just a millisecond- a flash of pain, and a man in front of him, speaking to him, but he couldn't hear or lip read what he was saying.

"Like.... Merlin?" He said again.. it was more of a question this time.

[ihadabadday]

He kept his eyes focused on the ball of fire. "Not like... Am." John replied.

"They're not just tales. They're history. Real. I lived it. I saw Camelot." He spoke carefully, cautiously.

"I know where all the Knights are buried and... And the King."

"I am Merlin Emrys." John finally raised his head and looked at Sherlock.

Suddenly he didn't care if his flatmate thought he was crazy. It was nice to get that off his chest, let it out in the open.