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

[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.

[seaweed_writes]

There was a long pause when Sherlock was silent. It was partially because for a few moments, he wasn't quite sure what exactly to say, but it was more so because he was taking all of the information in, parsing it out, making sense of it.

If that could even be done.

"I know." He said, before he could think about what he was saying. "Somehow, when I said the name, I knew that was you. And that makes no sense to me. How could I know? You are John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fuseliers. At least, that is what you told me. I;m not exactly sure if that is the truth or not any more, though you do certainly hold yourself in a military fashion."

Sherlock clearly by the way he was studying the man in front of him, the man he thought was John Watson, did not think he was crazy, or that he was lying. Not any more at least.

"If you are who you say you are... " He started, choosing his words carefully. "Then... why come to me? Why tell me that you are.. Merlin.. that you know magic, and that you are apparently millennia old, if not older? Why me, of all the seven billion people on earth?"

Sherlock had a feeling that there was more to this, though he wasn't thoroughly convinced that he wanted to know.

[ihadabadday]

"Because you are you and I am me." He answered. "Sherlock. I trust you with my secret because.... Because I love you."

John looked down, face flaming red. Did he really just say that? Admit his feelings. Well shit.

That had not been planned. He actually had never planned on telling Sherlock. He just wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there for the next hundred years or so.

He shifted, keeping his gaze firmly on the floor.

[seaweed_writes]

"I thought that you were John and I am Sherlock.. but... that doesn't seem to be the case for you..." His words were stolen from his mouth before Sherlock could utter another syllable.

And for the second time in just a few minutes, John Watson (well, not actually John Watson, he thought to himself) had rendered him speechless.

"You... " He blinked a couple of times, at a loss at what to say or do. It wasn't that he didn't have feelings for John. He most certainly did. But this revelation, coming on top of everything else that John- (NOT JOHN!) had just told him, left him bereft of words.

"You are... immortal... I am just a man..." He regretted the words as soon as they said them, but he continued. "I will grow old and die as you live on."

[ihadabadday]

"I actually prefer being John Watson. That is legally my name. I was in the military. I did go to medical school. All the things you deduced about me are true. I just also happen to be Merlin..." he said still not looking upmarket

After a moment of no reply, he looked up. Sherlock was staring at him a bit gobsmacked. He licked his lips and made a choice.

He moved over to Sherlock, put his hands on the man's face and kissed him.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock still had no idea how to reconcile the whole idea that this man in front of him was both John Watson, and the supposedly fictional and apparently immortal Merlin the Magician.

If he had wanted to say anything- not that he would have known what to say, it was all taken away when John kissed him.

John KISSED him.

There a moment of shock before Sherlock leaned into the kiss. It wasn't long or overly passionate, it was a statement of fact, and of purpose. He wasn't quite sure who pulled away first, or maybe the did at the same time. It didn't really matter.

Sherlock blinked, licking his lips so he could taste John for just a moment more.

And he was silenced, for the third time.

But in the best kind of way.

[ihadabadday]

"I think I shocked you into silence." John noted. He steered Sherlock to sit down, taking advantage of the shell shocked man.

That had been a lot of admitting things. Things that he had always assumed would be a secret. But he felt good.

[seaweed_writes]

Somewhere deep in his mind, Sherlock was grateful for John steering him towards a chair. Standing seemed to be getting more and more of an impossibility with each admission that passed from John's or whomever he is- lips.

He was still silent as he sat, but he managed to get his breathing and heart rate back under control after a few moments.

He blinked and looked up at John, studying him... REALLY looking at for what seemed like the first time.

Sherlock opened his mouth, and then closed it a couple of times, still trying to think of the right thing to say.. or ANYTHING to say.

[ihadabadday]

"Did I break you?" John poked Sherlock's cheek. It was a bit unusual for him. But he hoped it would knock the man out of whatever this was.

But the gobsmacked expression on his flatmate's face was hilarious. John sat down and just started to giggle. He couldn't help it.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock frowned as soon as he heard John start to giggle. He wasn't sure if he was glad or upset that the man's laughter was pulling him out of his shock.

"How is this in any way funny?" He asked, still frowning.

There were so many questions in his mind, and yet his brain decided to be petulant and childish and asked that one.

He groaned internally, but his face didn't betray that he was angry at himself for saying that, of all things.