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 had been awake for a while now. He never needed as much sleep as most people. But he had stayed still and kept his breathing even and waited for John to wake.

When he felt John stirring, he worked to stay still and breathing steadily, listening to John as he moved around and snuggled up close. It was hard not to catch his breath, but he manages it, staying "asleep" until John settled back down again. It wasn't long until John was back asleep, and Sherlock, surprisingly, falls back to sleep with him.

[ihadabadday]

The next time he woke, he finally got out of bed and went to the loo. He washed himself off and stared at himself in the mirror.

He had Sherlock. He had Arthur. It was such a sensation. John finished brushing his teeth and pulled his dressing gown on. The blonde went out into the kitchen to start making tea and breakfast for them.

[seaweed_writes]

There was some small, deep part of Sherlock that felt the bed shift and rise, but the urge to sleep just a bit longer was stronger, and he drifted back off.

This time, it was the smell of a fry-up that woke him, assaulting his nose and pulling him from sleep.

Not bothering to do something as banal as dressing, he went to the loo, did a quick piss, tooth brushing, and put his hair into some semblance of normalcy (though he still left it a bit toussled, he thought John might get an ego boost of remembering that he was why Sherlock's hair was the way it was).

Still without a stitch of clothing, he wandered into the kitchen only to find John working on the fry up he had smelt in the bedroom. The bacon and beans and toast were already on the table, the eggs as well, and he was pulling a pan with mushrooms and tomatoes out of the oven.

Careful not to startle the man, he carefully and gently leaned down and kissed the side of his neck.

"Good Morning, John." He said, a bit more formally than he'd meant it to sound.

[ihadabadday]

He relaxed back against Sherlock and smiled. "Good morning." He whispered. The blonde was happy. Things were good.

Of course, there was the looming prospect of finding the rest of the Knights and dealing with whatever was going on.

[seaweed_writes]

The thought occurs to Sherlock that he should ask John if he needs any help, but that has never really been his way, so instead, he gives John a kiss, and nuzzle on the neck, then goes to sit down at the table, putting a bit of what was already there on his plate.

He's never been much of an eater either, but something about the fact that JOHN cooked it makes him take more than he usually would.

That of course, and the fact that they'd shagged like rabbits the night before- that can arouse an appetite, along with.. other things.

Sherlock shook his head. They had a lot to do. He couldnt' be thinking about sex the first thing in the morning.

Of course, being naked in the kitchen with your lover doesn't really do much to curtail those thoughts, so he he tried to think about the trials ahead, to push his thoughts, and libido, elsewhere.

It seemed to work.. at least partially.

"Where do we start, John?" He asked, spearing a forkful of eggs.

[ihadabadday]

"Breakfast." He answered as he sat down with the rest of their meal.

"After that... I'm not so sure honestly. Last time... The Knights were all found before Arthur woke. This is unusual." He said, "But then again this is only thr second time the Knights have started to wake."

John set down his fork and rubbed his face. All he wanted to do was stay wrapped up in Sherlock and not deal with the world. But thay wasn't the way that things worked.

"I think I will need a large map of the city so I can start pinpointing locations."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock smirked at the smartarse response. His Bosman was learning, it seemed.

So, the knights had awoken before. It must have been for something large, he wondered if it was one of the World Wars. "When did the awaken the first time?" he asked, after swallowing a bite of beans on toast. "And why would I be the first, or second I suppose, to awaken, after Lestrade?"

As soon as John mentioned the map, he put his fork down, got up, and walked (still starkers) into the main room. He came back with a book a moment later. It was a 'London A to Z' tour book. But in the middle of it, folded into the pages, was a map of greater London.

"We will need to finish breakfast before I can fully open it, It is as large as our table. The book is only 6 years old, so it will be accurate enough for our needs."

[ihadabadday]

John's eyes followed Sherlock's arse. God. The man was infuriating and wonderful and such a bloody tease. He licked his lips and then shook his head. No. They could not end up in bed. No. It wasn't going to happen. There were things to do.

"During the Second World War. Various points during the way. It wasn't a mass awakening." He noted

But then there was the map. John smiled. Perfect. He could pinpoint each spot of light in his head. That way they could map out and see what was at that area. Perhaps figure out who the knight was.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock started to clear the table, he was pretty sure that food had been abandoned for the prospect of finding other knights.

As he was cleaning, and ferrying stuff to the sink and fridge, he made sure to stick his arse out a bit. It was obvious that John had been staring at it, and Sherlock was going to take full advantage. He didn't intend to pull John back into bed, but he'd give him a show and if it happened, well, all the more better.

But first, the knights.

"How many knights awakened during the War, and which ones? Did... Arthur arise?" Sherlock was deathly curious. He just had to know. Who was he, if he had?

[ihadabadday]

God damn tease. He glared at Sherlock and focused back on the map...

He spread the map across the table and summoned a Sharpie to his hand. Without moment he began to mark down the pinpoints of light. New Scotland Yard, Saint Bart's, a high rise in London, as well as various other points scattered across.

"No, Arthur didn't wake. This is the first time since he died that he has awaken." John answered, not looking at Sherlock. He couldn't face those memories. They still hurt.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock could feel the light crackle in the air when Merlin- John- used his magic to summon a Sharpie.
"You summon markers?" He asked with a smirk. "Does that work on larger items, like pillows and small potted plants as well?" Sherlock snarked.

He went quiet though when John started to mark places. New Scotland Yard, well that was obvious. Saint Bart's, it could be either Molly or less likely, Stamford, or perhaps someone totally unrelated, but that was highly unlikely.

None of the other places that he marked seemed to ring a bell until..

"No." He said, softly.

[ihadabadday]

He paused and looked a Sherlock. "What is it?" He asked.

John set down the Sharpie and stood up. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock points to a group of apartments in a posh northern neighborhood in London.

"I know who lives there." He said, his voice betraying the fact that he was trying not to get rattled at the thought.

"The Woman." Sherlock finally said, after a short pause. His finger was still on the paper, pressing it down hard against the table underneath.

[ihadabadday]

[Sorry! We got pummeled with snow, which is unusual and thus lost power for a bit. So yeah, back now!]

He paused for a moment and then nodded. "Perhaps she is not a knight." John suggested, "She may be associated with the Knights... The spell isn't full proof, it can awaken and call to those who are associated with them."

John shrugged a bit and scribbled possibilities of who they were on the map itself.

[seaweed_writes]

[Ooh, well I am glad you made it through ok!!]


Sherlock gave John a bit of a confused look, something that he would never grant to anyone else.

"What do you mean.. associated with the knights? Would she be the wife or lover of one of them?" He asked. He could only hope that Irene was not one of the knights. Though she would be formidable and fierce, there was a lot of history between them and he really didn't want to have to deal with her if he didn't have to.

[ihadabadday]

"Or Guinevere, Arthur's wife." He said quietly.

John didn't expect Sherlock to leave him for someone who he wouldn't know, or want to be with. But the mere thought... It stung a bit. He had watched from afar, never letting himself love, because he was too afraid of what people would think of his gift.

[seaweed_writes]

Well, that brought a frown to Sherlock's face.

He studied John, wondering what the man he called his lover (at least in his head) thought about that. Was Sherlock destined to be with Guinivere, of indeed that is who the Woman was the embodiment of?

John looked pained as he said it, like he expected Sherlock to just up and leave him.

Well, that was not going to happen, no matter what seemed to think.

His frown deepened as he replied, crossing his arms. "I want nothing to do with The Woman. I am not going to marry her, I don't care what relation she has to the Knights. My heart lies not with her, but elsewhere. "

[ihadabadday]

He paused and looked at Sherlock. There was hope in his eyes. He flushed and then smiled softly at Sherlock. He set down the Sharpie and then got up, John walked over to Sherlock and put his hands on the man's face. He stroked his hands over those cheeks.

The blonde leaned in and kissed him, wanting to melt into the kiss. Them. He did want to forget about the rest of the world.

[seaweed_writes]

It was easy for Sherlock to chart the various emotions that read on John's face, first trepidation and worry and disappointment, then just for a moment as he spoke, there was nothing. And finally, the hope that bloomed behind those eyes.

Sherlock wished that he could bottle it up and save it forever. Having a hallowed spot in his Mind Palace would have to do, though.

His posture relaxed a bit, when John brought his hands to his face, he leaned down and kissed John back eagerly. He pressed forward, inviting, but not too forceful.

This, he thought, now this, I could die at this moment and I would be perfectly content because I know how I feel about this man, even if I can't say those little words, not yet. I know it's true, and I know that he feels the same. He show me physically the words that neither of us dare to speak.

[ihadabadday]

He pulled back and smiled at Sherlock. "No matter what... It's you and me against the world. No one else will matter. Just us." John said.

He loved this man. Loved him so. He didn't know how he had lived without ever admitting it. But together, they could face whatever the world threw at them. He shifted forward and pressed himself against Sherlock. It wasn't sexual, he just wanted to be close to him. Feel him. Know he was here.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock was silent. He couldn't help a nagging feeling at the back of his mind., It had come up before, and he had banished it away for a time, but it was back now, and it was pervasive, and he couldn't get rid of it so easily.

He wrapped his long arms around John, pulling the man's clothed form against his naked one. He didn't try to grope or tut or grind, he just held John close, laying his head on the man's shoulder, taking in the sent of his shampoo and soap.. and the smell of.. JOHN.

"I am going to die one day." He whispered, almost just a breath, into John's hear, taking advantage of his position. "I am going to die and you will live forever, and eventually you will forget about me a thousand years from now, and your heart will belong to someone else."

He really had no desire to spoil the mood, but he had to say it. It would be less cruel to stop this now, before it went to far- if it wasn't already too late- to spare John the pain of losing him 20, 30, 40 years from now. That was only a tiny drop in the bucket of the life of Merlin the Magician.

[ihadabadday]

He pulled back and stared at Sherlock. "Nom I won't live forever. My immortality was only guaranteed until Arthur woke once more and I was able to guide him." He said softly.

"I want to.grow old with you. I want to spend the rest of our loves together. But if for some reason I do live beyond you, I will never forget you, or love another. I haven't love any since Arthur all those years ago. But you... Sherlock Holmes. You... I love you. I love you before I knew who lived inside your mind."

John kissed him again, closing his eyes. The kiss was desperate and needy.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock leaned back just a bit, to look John in the eyes, lifting his head from the man's shoulder.

"In all the times you have ween the knights wake, Arthur has never awoken, before now?" He asked. In all the craziness that had been the last few days, finding out all this information as well as starting into this relationship. it had never dawned on him that he might be the ONLY Arthur.

Any other questions he wanted to ask were cut off when John spoke. He was silent and still as John spoke his declaration of love. the three words Sherlock was afraid of, seemed to fall so easily from John's lips. He was surprised after such a short time that they would, and angry with him self that he couldn't reciprocate, say them in kind.

And yet again any response was cut off by the kiss., It was no longer soft and almost chaste. This was rough, and desperate and raw. Sherlock kissed back in kind, this time he did press his naked body against John's clothed one, walking the man backwards until he was pressed between Sherlock to his front, and the kitchen wall to his back

Tongue seeked tongue while Sherlock ran a hand through John's short hair, the other hand on his back, pressing him as close to his body as possible. He wanted to feel every single millimeter of John's skin.

[ihadabadday]

John was going to reply. He was. He had all these things he was going to do. But they were drowned out by the kiss. By Sherlock pressing against him. He shuddered and grabbed at those bare shoulders, pulling the man in.

He wanted to feel Sherlock, hold him close. He wanted to know everything about the man.

Over and over. He wanted to know more and more. All the time. He nipped at Sherlock's lips, not caring that he was against the wall. Not caring about any of it.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock needed to know the answer to the question, but he didn't need to know it right now. He would ask again, when they both weren't hungry for each others' touch.

Sherlock used one hand to gather up John's wrists and pin the against the wall, over his head. He kept his hand there, keeping John pinned and immobile while his other hand undid the tie of John's dressing gown.

He couldn't pull it off, because John was up tight against the wall, but at least it was open, showing his old, ratty t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting pajama trousers that were too long- Sherlock recognized them as his own.

And he wasn't wearing any pants underneath them, that much was quite obvious from looking at them.

Sherlock ducked his head down and licked a stripe up the side of John's neck while his free hand rucked up his t-shirt, exposing that beautiful pale skin of his stomach, and the trail of blonde hair that led inside the pajama trousers.