July 26 - Earth/Air/Fire/Water
Title: Far From Home (part 7/7)
Author: Pompey
Universe: BBC, ACD/Gaslight, Dr. Who
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU, crossover.
Word count: 1330
Summary: The partnership continues.
Prompt: July 26 - Earth/Air/Fire/Water
A/N: I’m going with the timeline that says John and Mary got married in the summer of 2013, so this is set kind of in the middle of Season 3, thus making this AU for the last half of Season 3. (Also, the reference to John’s medical specialty comes from a screenshot of his CV in “Blind Banker.”)
“It was a rather ingenious plan,” Sherlock added as John carefully accepted the fragile thing. “You put, or will put, this letter into a series of envelopes and put the whole thing into a time capsule that was to be opened on January 1, 2013. The letter was addressed to Mycroft’s home address with enough postage to legally mail it.”
“I sent it to Mycroft?” John asked in some disbelief. “And he didn’t read it?”
Sherlock smirked. “I couldn’t find any evidence of tampering on the wax seal so apparently having a series of envelopes each bearing a message addressed specifically to Mycroft and reminding him that he was reading someone else’s mail was enough of a deterrent. Although it did take at least eight such envelopes, which is why the letter was folded so many times.”
John nodded, seeing the paper separating along the many fold lines. The handwriting was definitely his but it was disorienting to see it in so old a document.
Dear Sherlock,
If all has gone according to plan you’ll be getting this the day after I disappear, March 24, 2013. I’m sorry I couldn’t get this to you sooner but if you got this before now you wouldn’t have understood it. I want you to know I’m alive and I’m ok. I wasn’t kidnapped and I didn’t run away. I never planned to leave at all, it just happened.
And what happened? Well I got sent back in time to May 20, 1894. Yeah I know it sounds crazy and if it hadn’t happened to me I wouldn’t believe it either. But I promise this isn’t a trick or a prank. And to prove it’s really me I’ll tell you that we had planned to pick up the dry cleaning today. Also that two days ago you put the leftover curry in the fridge next to the toes and we had a bit of a row about it and you finally agreed to move it to the shelf above the toes. And if you still don’t believe me have this paper and ink analyzed, it should be 119 years old by the time you’re reading this.
Anyway the stone statue I wanted to look at, I think it’s responsible for this. I don’t know how but I swear that thing was alive or something. It MOVED, Sherlock, really. I can hear you scoffing but it’s really no crazier than time travel. When you go back there BE CAREFUL!!
And yeah I said “when.” Because well, let’s just say that right now I’m not alone here. You made (or are going to make?) a huge sacrifice. I don’t know if you’ll make the same decision now because if time travel’s possible then maybe parallel universes are too but if you do there’s a bunch of information on page 2 that you’ll need to know. You should have all the facts before you make your decision. If you make a different choice than the one you made (will make?) in my timeline/universe I want you to know I understand and it’s ok. You need to make the decision that you can live with.
Either way you can show this to Mycroft, if you want. And please let Mary know? Not that I’ve gone back in time of course but that I’m - gone, I guess. She doesn’t need to waste her life waiting for a man who’s never going to show up.
I think that’s about it except for the stuff on page 2. Take care of yourself, Sherlock.
John Watson
21 May 1894
John looked up from the letter with some alarm. “You did tell Mary that I - I don’t know, disappeared or something, right?”
Sherlock made an odd movement with his mouth. “I told her that you had disappeared, that all signs indicated you were dead, but that I would continue to look for you and that I wouldn’t return until I had.”
“And she accepted that?”
Sherlock made that odd movement again. “There are some things I have learned about Mary that I will tell you at a later time. You’ve had rather enough shocks for one day, I think. But yes, she accepted it. It helped that every word I said was true in one way or another.”
That sounded rather bad but John decided to return to that topic later. Sherlock was right about having enough shocks for one day. “OK, let me make sure I understand this: you chose to go back to 1881 just to wait for me for thirteen years? And I did warn you about that, didn’t I? On page 2?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.” Sherlock watched John carefully.
John felt his throat tighten. “You sacrificed thirteen years of your life for me?”
“I wouldn’t call it a sacrifice. I’ve established a practice and even if the Scotland Yard officials are somehow even more idiotic than in the twenty-first century, at least they’re learning forensic science from the best.”
“Oh my God, Sherlock!” John exclaimed, half-laughing, half fighting back tears. “All right, so we’ve found each other. Now how do we get back to 2013?”
Sherlock glanced at him, deliberately rose from his chair, crossed to the mantle, and toyed with a knife that was thrust into it.
Alarm bells started ringing in John’s head and he stood too. “Sherlock?”
“I don’t know, John.” The detective turned to face him full-on. “There may be a way of returning to our time but I have yet to find it.”
John reached out and grabbed the mantle, needing something solid to hold himself up. “You mean we’re stuck here. In 1894.”
“Essentially.”
In a voice that seemed miles away, John said, “Please tell me I told you that on page two.”
“You did, yes.”
“OK, good. That’s . . . that’s good. I mean, good that I told you, not good that we’re here.” John realized he was floundering his words a bit more than he usually did in awkward situations but Sherlock didn’t mock him. “So. Um. What do we do . . . with the rest of our lives?”
“As I told you before,” Sherlock began, turning back to his chair and sending his dressing gown into swirls at his ankles, “I have already established myself as a private consulting detective. It is a lucrative practice but,” he met John’s eyes, “it can be a lonely one. There is a Dr. Doyle here I once impressed with my deductions and he insisted on writing up some of my cases for publication. I suggested that he write them from the point of view of a narrator called Dr. John Watson. And he did.”
“The Dr. Watson from the stories,” John murmured, remembering Scarper Ed’s words. “So. Is this Dr. Doyle your new ‘blogger’?”
Sherlock shrugged. “The two of you can hash it out between yourselves. But there is only one doctor I would care to have as my partner in this detective agency.” He raised his eyebrows slightly.
“I don’t suppose there’s much need for a doctor trained in bloodless laparoscopic surgery in 1894,” John replied with a faint smile. He slipped off his jacket, hung it on the nearby coatrack, and pulled out his wallet and mobile. “We’ll have to figure out what to do with these.”
“The wallet itself you can probably keep. As for the rest of it - ” Sherlock picked up the one hundred and nineteen year old letter and dropped it into the fire.
“Sherlock!” John rushed to the fireplace but the delicate paper was already disintegrating flakes of charcoal. He whirled around to glare at the detective, who remained unimpressed.
“We must destroy any and all anachronisms.”
“Sherlock, we are anachronisms,” John retorted, “and I haven’t written that letter yet! How will I know what to put in it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, John,” Sherlock answered without any real bite behind his words. “You’ve written it once before; you can certainly do it again.”
Author: Pompey
Universe: BBC, ACD/Gaslight, Dr. Who
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU, crossover.
Word count: 1330
Summary: The partnership continues.
Prompt: July 26 - Earth/Air/Fire/Water
A/N: I’m going with the timeline that says John and Mary got married in the summer of 2013, so this is set kind of in the middle of Season 3, thus making this AU for the last half of Season 3. (Also, the reference to John’s medical specialty comes from a screenshot of his CV in “Blind Banker.”)
“It was a rather ingenious plan,” Sherlock added as John carefully accepted the fragile thing. “You put, or will put, this letter into a series of envelopes and put the whole thing into a time capsule that was to be opened on January 1, 2013. The letter was addressed to Mycroft’s home address with enough postage to legally mail it.”
“I sent it to Mycroft?” John asked in some disbelief. “And he didn’t read it?”
Sherlock smirked. “I couldn’t find any evidence of tampering on the wax seal so apparently having a series of envelopes each bearing a message addressed specifically to Mycroft and reminding him that he was reading someone else’s mail was enough of a deterrent. Although it did take at least eight such envelopes, which is why the letter was folded so many times.”
John nodded, seeing the paper separating along the many fold lines. The handwriting was definitely his but it was disorienting to see it in so old a document.
Dear Sherlock,
If all has gone according to plan you’ll be getting this the day after I disappear, March 24, 2013. I’m sorry I couldn’t get this to you sooner but if you got this before now you wouldn’t have understood it. I want you to know I’m alive and I’m ok. I wasn’t kidnapped and I didn’t run away. I never planned to leave at all, it just happened.
And what happened? Well I got sent back in time to May 20, 1894. Yeah I know it sounds crazy and if it hadn’t happened to me I wouldn’t believe it either. But I promise this isn’t a trick or a prank. And to prove it’s really me I’ll tell you that we had planned to pick up the dry cleaning today. Also that two days ago you put the leftover curry in the fridge next to the toes and we had a bit of a row about it and you finally agreed to move it to the shelf above the toes. And if you still don’t believe me have this paper and ink analyzed, it should be 119 years old by the time you’re reading this.
Anyway the stone statue I wanted to look at, I think it’s responsible for this. I don’t know how but I swear that thing was alive or something. It MOVED, Sherlock, really. I can hear you scoffing but it’s really no crazier than time travel. When you go back there BE CAREFUL!!
And yeah I said “when.” Because well, let’s just say that right now I’m not alone here. You made (or are going to make?) a huge sacrifice. I don’t know if you’ll make the same decision now because if time travel’s possible then maybe parallel universes are too but if you do there’s a bunch of information on page 2 that you’ll need to know. You should have all the facts before you make your decision. If you make a different choice than the one you made (will make?) in my timeline/universe I want you to know I understand and it’s ok. You need to make the decision that you can live with.
Either way you can show this to Mycroft, if you want. And please let Mary know? Not that I’ve gone back in time of course but that I’m - gone, I guess. She doesn’t need to waste her life waiting for a man who’s never going to show up.
I think that’s about it except for the stuff on page 2. Take care of yourself, Sherlock.
John Watson
21 May 1894
John looked up from the letter with some alarm. “You did tell Mary that I - I don’t know, disappeared or something, right?”
Sherlock made an odd movement with his mouth. “I told her that you had disappeared, that all signs indicated you were dead, but that I would continue to look for you and that I wouldn’t return until I had.”
“And she accepted that?”
Sherlock made that odd movement again. “There are some things I have learned about Mary that I will tell you at a later time. You’ve had rather enough shocks for one day, I think. But yes, she accepted it. It helped that every word I said was true in one way or another.”
That sounded rather bad but John decided to return to that topic later. Sherlock was right about having enough shocks for one day. “OK, let me make sure I understand this: you chose to go back to 1881 just to wait for me for thirteen years? And I did warn you about that, didn’t I? On page 2?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.” Sherlock watched John carefully.
John felt his throat tighten. “You sacrificed thirteen years of your life for me?”
“I wouldn’t call it a sacrifice. I’ve established a practice and even if the Scotland Yard officials are somehow even more idiotic than in the twenty-first century, at least they’re learning forensic science from the best.”
“Oh my God, Sherlock!” John exclaimed, half-laughing, half fighting back tears. “All right, so we’ve found each other. Now how do we get back to 2013?”
Sherlock glanced at him, deliberately rose from his chair, crossed to the mantle, and toyed with a knife that was thrust into it.
Alarm bells started ringing in John’s head and he stood too. “Sherlock?”
“I don’t know, John.” The detective turned to face him full-on. “There may be a way of returning to our time but I have yet to find it.”
John reached out and grabbed the mantle, needing something solid to hold himself up. “You mean we’re stuck here. In 1894.”
“Essentially.”
In a voice that seemed miles away, John said, “Please tell me I told you that on page two.”
“You did, yes.”
“OK, good. That’s . . . that’s good. I mean, good that I told you, not good that we’re here.” John realized he was floundering his words a bit more than he usually did in awkward situations but Sherlock didn’t mock him. “So. Um. What do we do . . . with the rest of our lives?”
“As I told you before,” Sherlock began, turning back to his chair and sending his dressing gown into swirls at his ankles, “I have already established myself as a private consulting detective. It is a lucrative practice but,” he met John’s eyes, “it can be a lonely one. There is a Dr. Doyle here I once impressed with my deductions and he insisted on writing up some of my cases for publication. I suggested that he write them from the point of view of a narrator called Dr. John Watson. And he did.”
“The Dr. Watson from the stories,” John murmured, remembering Scarper Ed’s words. “So. Is this Dr. Doyle your new ‘blogger’?”
Sherlock shrugged. “The two of you can hash it out between yourselves. But there is only one doctor I would care to have as my partner in this detective agency.” He raised his eyebrows slightly.
“I don’t suppose there’s much need for a doctor trained in bloodless laparoscopic surgery in 1894,” John replied with a faint smile. He slipped off his jacket, hung it on the nearby coatrack, and pulled out his wallet and mobile. “We’ll have to figure out what to do with these.”
“The wallet itself you can probably keep. As for the rest of it - ” Sherlock picked up the one hundred and nineteen year old letter and dropped it into the fire.
“Sherlock!” John rushed to the fireplace but the delicate paper was already disintegrating flakes of charcoal. He whirled around to glare at the detective, who remained unimpressed.
“We must destroy any and all anachronisms.”
“Sherlock, we are anachronisms,” John retorted, “and I haven’t written that letter yet! How will I know what to put in it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, John,” Sherlock answered without any real bite behind his words. “You’ve written it once before; you can certainly do it again.”