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.

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[ihadabadday]

John felt the spark and was very glad he wasn't holding anything.

When his brain caught up with who touched him, he spun around quickly, grabbing Sherlock's shoulders to steady him.

What was that?

He didn't know if he could support Sherlock all the way to the couch without... John swallowed and then used a bit of magic to take them to the couch. He settled Sherlock down on it and bit his lip.

"Sherlock?"

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock had no idea how long he was out. By the time the room started to come into focus and stopped spinning, he was looking up at the ceiling. It took him a second to realize that he was on the couch.

How had he got to the couch?

John was a former solider, but there was no way he could have carried him from the kitchen.

John..

Merlin?

"J-john?" His voice was low and a bit harsh.

What had he seen while he was out? Quick flashed of knights and swords, a wizard and a giant battle, like the dream he'd had, but so much more real. He'd been there. He rubbed at his shoulder. Why did his shoulder hurt? It felt like he'd been pierced by an arrow...

What was going on?

[ihadabadday]

"Hey..." John had pulled a dressing gown on. He sat on the edge of the couch. "I'm here..."

He place a cool cloth over Sherlock's forehead. He used to do it for the King. Usually after a night of drinking. A few times when he had been ill. He had started as the King's manservant... But when his secret came out, their relationship had changed. He became his friend and confidant.

"Just rest, looks like you had a nasty dizzy spell. I caught you before you hit the ground."

[seaweed_writes]

"I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you." He deadpanned, before groaning when John put the cloth over his head. He closed his eyes, then a moment later he opened them wide and sat up, which meant that the cloth fell into his lap, unheeded by Sherlock.

'You... you've done that for me... before." He said, his voice low and unsure. In the short time they had been flatmate, he hadn't been sick, so John had never had to do it, but there was sometime... before..

Sherlock shook his head. Maybe he'd hit his head on the linoleum floor. He must be going crazy.

[ihadabadday]

John pulled back a bit. "I've never done this for you before Sherlock. We've only been flatmates for a few months..." He bit his lip.

Was Sherlock someone from Camelot. From then? Was he a Knight or someone he had encountered?

"Just lay back down. Vertigo is nothing to laugh at." He urged Sherlock to lay back. Once the man had settled, he put the cloth back over his forehead.

[seaweed_writes]

"Of course. How silly of me" Sherlock shook it off. Of course John had never done that for him.What was he thinking? John must think him a fool. Or hopefully he just thought Sherlock had knocked his head a bit.

Sherlock settled back and closed his eyes, relaxing when the cloth was back on his forehead. He needed to be careful. The last thing he wanted John to think was that he was crazy or not in full control of his faculties. He needed to calm down and breathe and get this whole stupid idea out of his head.

[ihadabadday]

He got up and went to go finish breakfast for the two of them.

Memories flashed through his mind. Meeting Arthur, him finding out the truth, when he became king, the quest for Excalibur....

He put their breakfast on two plates and brought it back out to the living room.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock's mind wandered. He was in what looked like an ancient time. There was man, with a long white beard and a tall pointy hat, but those eyes... they were so familiar.

They looked like John's eyes.

Why did they look like John's eyes?

He didn't get to ponder it any more. He opened his eyes when he heard John coming back in. He sat up, slowly this time as to not dislodge the cloth, and gave a small smile of thanks. He wasn't really hungry though, so he mostly just moved his food around his plate.

"When we are done, I will clean up the mess in the kitchen. I apologize. I'm not sure what came over me.

[ihadabadday]

John patted his thigh, a move that was familiar a Arthur, but not Sherlock. And he wasn't even sure why he did it. Just comfort? Maybe.

"It happens Sherlock. Vertigo can attack anyone at any point."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock's breath caught when John patted his thigh, his whole body went tense- and not because he didn't want the touch. Sure, he hadn't expected it, but that wasn't it at all.

His eyes went wide, and he stared at John, really looked at him. There was a flash of.. something in his mind, and then it was gone again. He shook his head. He really needed to sleep, he thought.

"Yes. I suppose so." Sherlock answered, quietly. He poked at his food for a few more minutes, then put it on the table beside him. His stomach was lurching and his mind was racing a million miles a minute, he didn't have the stomach to eat right now.

He had a mystery and it was locked inside his own mind.

Even brave, loyal John couldn't help him with this one.

[ihadabadday]

"It's fine. You sit here. I'll clean it up." He smiled patiently at Sherlock. It was okay. All of it. God he wanted to tell the genius everything. But magic... That went against all sciences. It wasn't logical.

He got up, taking his own half eaten plate with him. John went into the kitchen, putting the plate into the sink, he got to work. The glass and water from the floorml. Dishes from breakfast.

He winced when he felt that light get stronger, get closer. Seriously was going to punch whoever it was.

And in strolled Greg Lestrade.

He had only been living with Sherlock for a few months and felt like he knew Greg better than Sherlock.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock watched John work. He felt awful, the man had just almost died, and here he was, being feeble and infirm, laying down on the couch when all he'd done was..

Well... what? fainted? Seen visions in his head? He still wasn't really sure what had happened, actually. And that was what both vexed and frustrated him. He was Sherlock Bloody Holmes, he could figure anything out.

And yet, he was stumped by what had happened to him when he simply laid a hand on his flatmate.

Once again this thoughts were interrupted, this time by Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"Graham." Sherlock said with a frown. Normally he would be happy to see the man, he was itching for a case, but John needed to rest, and he needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

"We can't help you, John is convalescing." It looked less convincing considering he was the one laying down with a cloth on his hed and John was in the kitchen, but it was essentially true.

[ihadabadday]

John looked up. "Detective Inspector. Hello. Don't listen to him, I'm fine." He hadn't removed the bandage yet, not wanting Sherlock to freak out with how quickly he healed. Magic. Again. Defies the laws if reality. Just how it was. Then again he was an immortal wizard looking for a reborn legendary king.

It was all a bit strange.

He stopped and stared at Greg, something seemed... Familiar. He frowned and tilted his head to the side.

Why.

That damn point of light wa...

His eyes widened and he let out a breath. "Oh..."

[seaweed_writes]

Greg looks surprised at first. He thought it'd just been hyperbole, that Sherlock was being... well.. Sherlock and stretching the truth. But even if he hadn't been a detective, he would have seen the bandage on John's neck. Immediately he felt bad. John really had injured himself, and this had been a bad idea.

But it was too late now, he was here.

'Are, you okay?" He asked, taking in the shocked expression on John's face. "I can come back another time if you'd both rather. I had no idea John'd been 'urt." He spared a quick look to Sherlock, who looked as puzzled as he did about the look on John's face.

"John?" Sherlock asked quietly, question and concern in his voice. The man looked like he had seen... a ghost perhaps? He wasn't quite sure.

[ihadabadday]

He made a quick motion with his hand, momentarily freezing the room. He stepped out of the kitchen and walked over to Greg. Could it really be that easy? Could one of them be right here?

He pursed his lips together. If this didn't work. If Greg wasn't what he suspected...

He put his hands on Greg's face and closed his eyes. He thought of his King's most faithful knight. Galahad.

It fit.

If Greg was... There was no one else that he could be.

He pulled his hands back and let just Greg unfreeze, keeping Sherlock suspended.

[seaweed_writes]

One moment, John had been just walking out of the kitchen, and the next moment, John was right here, just centimeters away, pulling his hands back to his sides. He looked around, and his pulse jumped, his eyes going wide.

Sherlock was sitting where he had just been, but he wasn't moving a muscle, wasn't blinking, wasn't even breathing!
He stumbled back a step, his coppers' instincts coming to bear. He sure wished that he had a gun right about now. He didn't think he;d need,it going to 221B Baker Street.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

Greg looked around, panicking, trying to keep his wits about him. "Wha' the hell is goin' on here?" He yelled, looking back to John, who seemed to be taking this all quite calmly.

[ihadabadday]

"You're in there, aren't you. Memories just under the surface..." John mused, "Do you have dreams about impossible things?"

He didn't stop to let Greg answer. "Do you see things out of the corner of your eye that don't make sense? Flashes of another life?"

"Tell me. Do you?"

He had to know.

He needed to know.

He had last found Galahad during World War II. He had been in the front lines. Many of the others had been as well.

They had only been missing their King.

[seaweed_writes]

He listened with rapt attention. Of course he had had weird dreams, feelings. That was part of the reason that he was estranged from his wife. He had told her about it, and she thought that he was going mad, so he he never, ever told another soul.

Should he tell this man, this doctor and ex-soldier that he had only known for 3 months, and only because of Sherlock?

He opened his mouth, at first, with the intention of lying, but the words that came from his mouth almost didn't seem like his own.

"I..... have." He admitted, surprising himself, but he continued, guessing that the cat was out of the bag anyways now. I've had dreams where I was... " He hesitated, this sounded to stupid to say it out loud. "I.. er.. was a knight. I remember great battles, impossible magic, and a king, our king, struck down in his prime." He sighed and ran a hand over his eyes.

"You must think me a loony." He looked around. "But that still doesn't explain why everything else around us isn't moving... What the 'ell is goin' on here, John?"

[ihadabadday]

He laughed and smiled. "You brilliant, nutter." John shook his head.

A knight. Here.

A knight.

But that meant the King would wake eventually. Was he ready for that?

"Magic is real. So are the knights."

John took a leap and held out his hand. Ab image appeared, of a battlefield. Not one where the king was struck down. No. He never revisited that memory.

[seaweed_writes]

"Magic is.... real?" Greg cocked his head to the side. Once again, he looked over to Sherlock, who still hadn't moved. Well, he had no other way to describe what was happening right now.

"Magic.. and knights? What knights, John? What are you talking about?"

Before he could ask anything else, John was holding out his hand. Greg looked at it for a moment, not sure if he wanted to take it, this was all so strange. But he trusted this man, even if he couldn't describe what the hell was going on.

The moment he took John's hand, all the things he had seen in his dreams came back to him.

But it was so real.

He could smell the fires of battle, feel the breeze through his hair, see the men in their battle dress, swords and pikes ready to fight, and to die.

He looked down at his own hands, and saw that he wore leather gauntlets, and held a sword in one hand and a wooden shield in the other.

"What the-" At that moment he blinked back to 221b, his heart was racing, his breath fast and shallow... What the hell had that just been?

[ihadabadday]

"Memories. Your memories." He said softly, "not mine. Yours. My place was with someone else. Of course, I looked far different back then."

He released Greg's hand.

"Say your name. You must know it. Please."

There was hope in him. For the first time in ages. He had hope. Hope that things were happening. That maybe he would get to see his King again.

[seaweed_writes]

Of course Greg knew his name it was..

"G-Galahad?" He stuttered out, once again surprising himself by saying something contrary to what he was going to say.

"Was... that my name... in.. another life?" He asked. His knees felt weak, and he stumbled over to Sherlock's chair, slumping down in it, not even caring what Sherlock would say.

Wait. He was still frozen.

Greg looked over to Sherlock, then back to John. "What... is.. this.. what am I? What are you?" Even as he said it, the visions in his head became clearer, the dreams he could remember more vivid.

What was happening to him? Had he finally gone around the bin? Was he has loony as his wife said he was?

[ihadabadday]

"You know who I am. You know. Just as you know who you are."

John moved over to his chair and sat down. "My place was by the King's side." Oh the guilt. The guilt for letting the King die. For not protecting him. He would live with that forever.

"You're not crazy. The memories bleed into your life until you fully accept who you are. What you are."

[seaweed_writes]

Greg's eyes thinned for a moment, the he reared back, his eyes wide.

"M-M-Merlin?" He asked, his voice shaky. "Is... that you?" He shook his head. "B-but... how? I'm just a lowly copper, not some legend that kids read in Secondary School. I thought they were just legends...But.."

He paused and looked over to Sherlock. There was something about him, but... what? He looked back to John with a question in his eyes.

"What about.. Sherlock? I... assume you are somehow freezing this room, or maybe this building.. But... Sherlock.. does he know about any of this?"

[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."