Fic: Another blink in time - (8/9)

[anarion]

So here it is. The conclusion. Finished it yesterday with constant encouragement from Verity ("Now get blinking!").
I am feeling a little sad that it is over, but mostly happy that everything worked out. I hope you like it! :)


Title: Another blink in time
Author: anarion
Words: 2497
Warnings: none
Pairings : Sherlock/John
Beta: still verityburns, the best beta in the world ♥♥♥
Disclaimer: Sadly the characters are not mine and no money is made (that would be sooo cool!).







Chapter 7


Chapter 8



John sat in his armchair, a steaming cup of tea in his hands, and listened to the silence of the flat. Sherlock had gone to Minsk. On an aeroplane, as he insisted on calling it. Sometimes he was so damn endearing. Often he was hurtful and/or infuriating though and John had to fight the urgent need to throttle him with his stupid scarf. Or pull him close and kiss him. Most of the time it was both.

John missed him already. It was too quiet, too boring, and too normal. He had tried to distract himself with some cleaning and admittedly the flat now looked spotless but he felt even farther away from Sherlock.

John had thought that it might be enough that he found Sherlock. He would be patient until the other was ready to remember. He was sure that one day he would find the right words, the right touch, the right trigger. But with the lifestyle they had in this reincarnation there was just not enough time. Both of them might be dead before he succeeded.

The fact that he now had to force a recollection on Sherlock made him hurt in places he didn’t even know he had.

He had a bad feeling, like a foreshadowing. He usually did not believe in such things, but right now he was pretty sure that Sherlock and he were running out of time. He had to make him remember and apparently drastic measures were in order.

The jealousy thing with Sarah obviously did not work. John had not really expected it to, but it would have been nice and easy. He thought about trying with a man, in case Sherlock was gay, which seemed more plausible anyway.
He suspected he might even be asexual or living in a self-imposed celibacy. Which was fine. As long as they both were together - really together, meaning both of them remembering - it was all fine.

They had already had lifetimes together where they were not lovers but friends. Surprisingly that was not awkward, because the current life one was living overruled everything before. You are who you are, even if you were someone else before. They were completely different people every time. The core stayed the same but each time it was shaped by different environments.

Yeah, he was attracted to Sherlock this time, but that would fade if it wasn't reciprocated. It might take some time, but John would be happy to overcome it and live just as close friends, as long as it meant having Sherlock.

But for now, drastic measures were in order. John had decided that he needed to shock Sherlock somehow. Since it wasn't easy to surprise him, he had to do something so stupid that even Sherlock would not expect him to. Like jump in front of a gun or get kidnapped. He finally settled for getting hurt. He was not afraid of physical pain and it was definitely something that would affect Sherlock. Hopefully enough to trigger a recollection.

.......................................

The next day when he came home from work he was greeted by the sound of shooting from upstairs. He rushed upstairs only to find Sherlock in his dressing gown firing John's gun at the wall. What the hell?

His concern turned to anger. It turned out that Sherlock was bored. And we are back to irritating again… John sighed.

He watched Sherlock flop down on the sofa, grumbling about John's blog and the fact that John dared to reveal his ignorance of the solar system to his readers.

John thought that the only possibility to shut him up for good and entertain him at the same time was probably to kiss him.*

Then he forced himself to think about his last patient, before Sherlock could turn around and read every one of his inappropriate thoughts on his face. This did not really work. He was still mad AND thinking about kissing Sherlock.

Since his impulse control was rather low when he was angry, he decided to get out before anything happened.

Thankfully Sarah was kind enough to offer him her sofa and he spent the night there, feeling rather bad for using her again under false pretences. The next morning started with an explosion in Baker Street, which had John racing home with terrible pictures in his mind and a heart fluttering in panic. Relief flooded him when he saw Sherlock sitting in his armchair, nonplussed at John's alarm and visibly annoyed by his brother.

John closed his eyes for a moment. Seriously, living with Sherlock was probably the easiest way to get a heart attack. And it made it really hard to stay angry with him, since the last thing John wanted was for one of them to die while they were not talking to each other over something as stupid as the movement of the sun.

Over the next days he had a lot of reasons to get angry though. Mycroft had a case of national importance that Sherlock was reluctant to take and there was a psychopath running around strapping people in explosives while he waited for Sherlock to solve his puzzles.

The first time it happened they were at Barts, Sherlock was busy watching something through his microscope and his apparent lack of compassion for the hostage made John, whose patience was already thin with all the craziness going on, furious.

And if that wasn't enough, Sherlock had to add arousal to the mix again by asking John to pull his mobile out of his jacket's pocket. The jacket he was currently wearing. John had to struggle hard against his body's wishes when he felt Sherlock's body heat and heart beat. He was so close that he could smell his very own Sherlock-scent.

The second time they were at home and Sherlock again showed that he did not care for the people whose lives were at stake. A part of John could follow the logic of Sherlock's argument, but it pained him nonetheless. Plus he nearly jumped out of his skin in anger because he hadn't succeeded yet. It was his fault that the compassion he knew was buried under that stupid logic was exactly that - still buried.

How was he ever to implement his plan in this chaotic rush of events? They got into a fight with a contract killer at one point, but John was so busy saving Sherlock's life that he didn't even think of it.

The foreshadowing of a nearing catastrophe had not passed. While Sherlock was musing if this was Moriarty's doing, John was trying to figure out if it was their evil counterpart they were dealing with. By the time it was confirmed that Moriarty was behind all this, John was fairly sure that he was right. For once he hated being right.

His realisation was followed by another rush of events and in the end they had solved all of Moriarty's cases plus the one from Mycroft.

That evening they were sitting in their flat, still cold because the windows had not yet been repaired after the explosion, each of them silently waiting to hear from Moriarty again.

John decided that he had to put his plan in action as soon as possible, because he needed Sherlock whole and aware. Otherwise they would not be able to face Moriarty successfully.

He went out, pretending to go to Sarah's. If he hadn't been so distracted with his own thoughts, he would have noticed Sherlock's strange and pliant behaviour earlier. When had he ever offered to buy milk? And beans?

As it were, he only noticed when it was too late. He was at the corner of Baker Street when realisation hit him that something was wrong with Sherlock. But before he could turn around, a van stopped beside him and someone grabbed him to pull him in. Then there was a sharp sting at his neck and everything went black.

When he came to again, he felt a weight on his chest. There was a short moment of panic as he realised that he was covered in explosives, which meant that Moriarty got to him. He used the breathing technique he had learned in the army to calm himself down and tried to find a way out of his situation.

Suddenly the door of the van was yanked open and a dark-haired man grinned at him.

"Morning sunshine. It's time to play, come on out."

He was about John's height, slender and had a disturbing mode of speaking. Moriarty, John presumed. He was accompanied by a blond man, who was holding a gun.

The blond forced John to put on an oversized and incredibly ugly coat and attached an earpiece. Moriarty watched the whole scene leaning against the wall, still grinning. Then his face turned solemn and he spoke again.

"Do I need to tell you the rules of the game?"

John shook his head. He knew that he was only allowed to say the things he heard from his earpiece.

"Good boy! Now listen. You will go through that door and then the game is on. Don't slip or you are dead." He flashed his disturbing grin again. "Or better yet, HE will be dead."

John felt himself go cold. Sherlock was here! Wherever here was. It looked like a public bath. Sherlock was here, which meant that Moriarty would show his face to him and they would never be allowed to leave alive.

Before he could formulate any kind of plan he was pushed towards a door. His heart was racing and he felt frighteningly out of control. The blond man waved the gun at him and motioned his head towards the door. John took a deep breath and stepped through.

And then he saw Sherlock. And Sherlock saw him.

John's heart ached when he saw a range of emotions flicker over Sherlock's face: shock, confusion, pain, betrayal, denial, sadness, understanding and finally relief. He twirled around and when he turned back to John, he looked into his eyes and John saw.

He was remembering. John closed his eyes and cursed silently. Does it have to be now of all times? Now when we need this brilliant brain of yours to work properly to get us out of here safely?

But Sherlock – being Sherlock – absorbed everything extremely fast and could still spare a part of his brain to talk to Moriarty, who had stepped out of another door by now. He seemed shaken and a little confused, but that was all. The man who questioned everything accepted this without hesitation. He really was amazing.

John thought that he never had loved Sherlock more than at this moment. Without even consciously thinking about it, he made his move, grabbed Moriarty and accepted the fact that he would now die. But if it saved Sherlock, it was worth it.

Sherlock stared for a second than his face softened.
John was a doctor and a very caring man. But he was also a soldier. He would not stand by and let more innocent people get hurt. He would sacrifice the two of them to rid the world of this man.

John could practically hear Sherlock deduce the reason for John’s action and John saw his little approving blink that told him that Sherlock understood and was ok with it.

But then John said “Sherlock, run!” And Sherlock’s gaze went confused and then suddenly painfully bright. At that moment he understood who John was and that John knew, that he had known all along.

There was pain in Sherlock's eyes and surrender, because he saw that neither of them would be willing to leave without the other.

John stepped back, defeated. Yes, he had shown his hand, Moriarty was right. But it didn't matter as long as Sherlock understood.

But as they knew Moriarty, Moriarty knew them. Therefore he did not threaten to kill Sherlock, he threatened his heart. He threatened John. This of course was the best way to get to Sherlock.

And then he left.

Sherlock fell to his knees before John in a swift movement and started to unfasten the explosives.

“Alright? Are. You. Alright?” The emotions in Sherlock's voice made John waver.

That question said so much more. Not just ‘Are you alright after being kidnapped by our crazy archenemy and strapped into a bomb?’ It also said ‘Are you alright after all this time without me?’ and ‘I am so sorry that you had to face this all alone without me remembering!’ and ‘Oh God, I missed you!’ and ‘Are we ok? Can you forgive me that I left you alone for that long?’ all at once.

The realisation made John go weak in the knees and he had to lean against the wall for support.

Sherlock ran out. When he came back, he was clearly at a loss. He was stammering (and scratching his head with that damn loaded gun) and that was not something Sherlock Holmes did. But his massive intellect was a little overwhelmed by all the feelings at the moment. Which was understandable.

He needed time to think, to sort through all this. How was he supposed to survive all these intense feelings and what would happen with John? Would he forgive him? Jesus, John! He wanted to grab him and kiss him and hold him close to his own shaking body, he wanted to ask him a thousand questions and to tell him that he loved him, always had, always will and he just didn’t know where to start.

Because he was still Sherlock Holmes - even with all the memories and lifetimes full of experience - brilliant and socially awkward Sherlock Holmes, who was bad with feelings and with people and now short of panicking.

And then John, wonderful clever John, who always knew to say the right words, made a joke. A stupid, lame joke, but it was all it took. Sherlock saw that they would be alright. They would figure this out together. He calmed down.

They smiled at each other and for a moment everything was good.

"Sorry boys, I am so changeable!" He was back.

Well, it would have been way too easy anyway. John had known all along that Moriarty would not let them get out of this alive. He watched Sherlock pointing the gun at Moriarty and then slowly lowering it towards the bomb.

Then he looked at John. John could hear his voice in his head. I am sorry, John. I wish I could get you out of here alive. I wish we both would get out of here alive. I want to live this life with you more than anything I ever wanted before. But this is bigger than we are.

John looked Sherlock in the eyes. Yes, I know. But it doesn't matter. Because we will find each other. We will always find each other.


And he nodded.


Epilogue



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* This scene was inspired by another beautiful picture from Br0-Harry, it can be found here on DeviantArt.


.

Comments

[ellie_hell.livejournal.com]

Poor John, it must have been so frustrating to live like that and it was sad to see him ready to ignore his attraction to Sherlock until it faded if it meant they could be "together". And with this Sherlock, it must have been hell to be torn between the desire to kiss him and throttle him (because yeah, sharing a bond with someone like that must be HELL).

I still enjoyed the references to canon, especially when John didn't notice right away how suspicious it was that Sherlock had offered to get milk and beans (while watching the episode for the first time I wanted to shout at the screen for John to just COME BACK GODDAMNIT!) I loved that moment so much, I'm glad you used it in your story.

Also loved when Sherlock realized who John really was and I thought it was great how you used their "silent conversation" in the series to work in that context. I'll be sad if they die, but not that sad because of that magical, beautiful, wonderful thing you wrote: John looked Sherlock in the eyes. Yes, I know. But it doesn't matter. Because we will find each other. We will always find each other.


And he nodded.

And now, excuse me while I click on that epilogue link because it has been delayed too long already.

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Your comment made me ridiculously happy!

I am really glad that I managed to give you the feeling that it will be sad when they die (of course!) but not that sad because they will have each other until the end of time.

I wanted that feeling, because I left the epilogue fairly open. They could be at the pool having survived the bomb. But they could be in-between lives as well I think.
Depending on my mood I tend to the one or the other. :)

[ellie_hell.livejournal.com]

Things that make it kind of okay for Sherlock and John to die:
- If they die together
- If they'll meet again somehow

I still love the epilogue and, like you, my interpretation of it varies (I read it...four or five times I think).

[verityburns.livejournal.com]

I'm so proud of you for finishing this fic, sweetie! I know it's been a struggle at times, especially with people throwing porny prompts at you left right and centre, but you've done brilliantly and created something amazing.

Well done you!

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

"John looked Sherlock in the eyes. Yes, I know. But it doesn't matter. Because we will find each other. We will always find each other."

AGAIN WITH THE GOOSEBUMPS.

Seriously, all up and down my arms. Oh my, Anarion. Oh my.

[anarion.livejournal.com]

YAY for the goosebumps! :)

*bounces*