On the eleventh day of Sherlockmas... "Believing in Magic," a gift fic for coendou
Title: Believing in Magic
Author: [redacted]
Recipient: coendou
Pairing/Characters: John/Sherlock, unnamed character from the Harry Potter universe
Word count: ~1,800
Category: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None Apply
Summary: Post Reichenbach Fall. John visits Sherlock’s grave and he is surprised to discover Sherlock is very much alive.
Authors Notes: I wrote this as a pinch hit otherwise I would have loved to have had more time to make this a little longer. I hope you enjoy it, coendou, and Happy Holidays. Thanks to the sherlockmas mods for running this fest.
The air was cool and carried with it a light frost which had dusted the trees and the long spikes of grass in the graveyard. As John walked, the gravel path crunched beneath his feet and the chill wind caused him to pull his coat more firmly around his body, as he blew hot puffs of air onto his hands and rubbed them together for extra warmth. When he reached the gravestone he had come specifically to visit, he stood as he always did, and glared.
“I’m furious with you. Still.” John reached his hand out to touch the cool stone and continued, somewhat begrudgingly. “But I miss you.”
“You do know it’s rather rude to speak ill of the dead?”
John closed his eyes and swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m going barmy. Hearing things.”
“If you opened your eyes you would be seeing things too,” Sherlock agreed. John could feel the heat of another body, taller than his own, next to him. He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, petrified of seeing some sort of spectre although every instinct in his body told him that wasn’t possible.
“It can’t be…” Finally, John opened his eyes and turned to see Sherlock standing next to him, looking very much alive. He poked him in the arm just to be sure that Sherlock was indeed flesh and bone. He was rewarded with a glare before Sherlock turned back to look at the grave.
“Yet somehow, it is.” Sherlock sighed as he brushed his fingers against the headstone. “For future reference I would have preferred black marble. Much more aesthetically pleasing. An appropriate epitaph about my many achievements wouldn’t have gone amiss either.”
“I’ll try to remember. For next time.” John snorted and looked at Sherlock, drinking in the sight of him as the ache which had settled around his heart lifted a little. “Are you planning to explain yourself anytime soon?”
“In good time.” Sherlock nodded to a spot next to John. “We have company.”
“We do?” John turned to see a peculiar looking man watching them both. He was dressed in an odd assortment of winter fashions in numerous clashing colours, topped off with a wide-brimmed straw hat. “Who the hell are you?”
“A friend,” the man replied.
“But the question is, whose friend?” Sherlock looked at the man, taking in the attire and John could almost hear the machinery working in Sherlock’s brain before he started laughing. “Good Lord, I haven’t seen one of your sort for quite some time.” Sherlock leaned in to the man and John felt the heat of Sherlock’s body against his own as he did so. “I’m not just any ordinary Muggle, you know - I know all about your world. You can’t keep much from me.”
“We know exactly who you are, Sherlock Holmes.” The man smiled at Sherlock and pointed at the sky. “There’s a storm coming from the west. I would suggest you find shelter while you can. These trees don’t look as if they will withstand it.”
“Is that so? Well that is very interesting.” Sherlock pushed John gently to move before he turned back to the man. “Let’s hope this one causes minimal damage.”
“We will do what we can to keep it contained.”
“Be sure you do. Good day.” Sherlock dipped his head towards the man and looked around the cemetery once more before he set off towards the gates.
“Sherlock…” John tried to keep as Sherlock who had started walking at a rather alarming speed. “Will you slow down?”
“No time, something’s coming.”
“What? What’s coming?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something big.” Sherlock stopped at the gates of the cemetery and pondered for a moment. “Storm from the west…this way,” he said as he gestured down a small path. They continued walking in silence until they came to a small park. “This should do it.”
“Wonderful. Now what the hell are you doing here? Alive, I mean.” John folded his arms and turned to give Sherlock his very best exasperated glare.
“I rather thought you would be pleased.” Sherlock looked over John for a moment and reached out to smooth his jacket. “Circles under your eyes, indicating tiredness, chapped skin indicated time spent outdoors in the cold - most likely in a graveyard given recent events - and a jacket that is in dire need of replacing.” Sherlock grinned and spread his arms wide. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed me.”
“You’re infuriating.” John looked around the quiet park and leaned closer. “Not to mention you are supposed to be dead.”
“Not quite.” Sherlock shook his head and arched an eyebrow at John. “What? You don’t believe in magic?”
“No I don’t bloody believe in magic, and neither do you.”
“Of course I do.” Sherlock scoffed at John and threw his long coat down on the cold ground, stretching out on it and looking up at the sky. “It’s remarkably refreshing being alive again. Who would have thought pretending to be dead would be so exhausting?”
John stripped out of his own jacket and threw it on the floor next to Sherlock, lying down and following Sherlock’s gaze with a frown. “I bet. And don’t tell me you believe in magic. It flies in the face of everything you used to tell me about logic and science.”
“Incorrect.” Sherlock turned his head to the side and smiled at John - that damned annoying smile which made John want to shake him - or kiss him, he hadn’t quite decided yet. “Magic is just a form of advanced science. It’s been around since the beginning of time, in one form or another. Besides, the existence of it has been proven to me more than once.”
“You’re completely mad.” John stared at Sherlock for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t think I will ever understand you.”
“You’re not the first person to say that and I suspect you won’t be the last.” Sherlock turned back to look at the sky and John shifted closer, watching the clouds moving along in the wind.
“As much as it pains me to say it, you’re probably right.”
“I’m always right.”
“Not always.” John frowned as he searched for example but drew a blank, waving his hand dismissively as he shivered in the cool air. “Cold out.”
“There’s a war coming.” Sherlock nodded to the clouds as if they signified something ominous and tapped his finger to his lips. “It will be something bigger than you and I have seen before - you heard the man.”
“No.” John stared at Sherlock and propped himself onto his elbow, looking down at him. “What man?”
“The man who warned us at the cemetery - I confess being sorry to leave, but I require a little more information before I involve myself in their war, although I am sure I could be most useful.”
“He was warning us about a war?” John looked back in the direction they had come and then down at Sherlock again, trying to pull his thoughts together. “He interrupted our conversation before I could start yelling at you and said something about the weather. That was all.”
“You need to pay more attention to the things that happen around you.” Sherlock laughed with delight, on the cusp of revealing another delicious secret. “He was quite clear something big was coming. He told us to find shelter. The trees in the cemetery would have been adequate in the event of rain. He was warning us against something else.”
“Magic…” John shook his head. “I can’t quite believe it.”
“I came back from the dead, did I not?”
“Oh come on, you’re not telling me that’s magic are you?”
Sherlock laughed. “Not in the slightest. That was genius.”
“Shut up you daft bastard.” With a choked laugh because he really had missed Sherlock, John leaned down and took a chance. He pressed their lips together a slow, chaste sort of kiss. He expected Sherlock to push him away but after a moment without any response, John felt Sherlock tentatively begin to kiss back. With a soft moan, low in his throat, John pressed closer and felt a hand tangle tentatively in his hair, just as he liked it. He wondered how Sherlock knew that he enjoyed that, but he supposed Sherlock knew bloody everything.
After a moment, John pulled back and lay back down, looking up at the stars as he felt a smile tug at his lips.
“What was that?” John liked the fact that Sherlock’s voice sounded a little gravelly and he wondered how else he could make Sherlock sound if he could put his mind to it. He turned back to Sherlock and smiled, meeting his dark gaze head on.
“That? That was my sort of magic.”
“I see.” Sherlock sounded amused and the two men lay side by side, watching, as the clouds moved through the sky. “You were going to yell at me?”
“I thought about it.” John laughed at the ridiculous situation he appeared to have found himself in and was certain Sherlock was definitely back - life had been frightfully dull without him. “I decided to do something else.”
“I think I am happier with the alternative.” Sherlock laughed with John and the sound echoed in the quiet park. “What were your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I didn’t really have any.” John closed his eyes for a moment and let the cool air wash over his face. When he opened them again, Sherlock had propped himself up on his elbow and was looking down at John.
“Perhaps it’s time to go home?”
“To Baker Street?” John smiled at Sherlock and nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
“Not always.” John made a mental note to think of some examples he could use when he had finished using his brain to try to understand how Sherlock had survived. “Now let’s go. My arse is getting wet lying here and I need you to explain to me exactly how it is that you are not dead.”
“Ah yes. That.” With a knowing smile, Sherlock stood and reached his hand for John to help him up. “It’s quite simple when you give it some proper thought.”
“Is that so?”
Sherlock smiled as they began to walk. “Yes. Elementary, you could say.”
The clouds in the sky lifted a little as the two men walked side by side, their heads bowed together, leaving the flashes of greens, reds and ambers in the sky above the cemetery far behind.
~Fin~
Author: [redacted]
Recipient: coendou
Pairing/Characters: John/Sherlock, unnamed character from the Harry Potter universe
Word count: ~1,800
Category: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None Apply
Summary: Post Reichenbach Fall. John visits Sherlock’s grave and he is surprised to discover Sherlock is very much alive.
Authors Notes: I wrote this as a pinch hit otherwise I would have loved to have had more time to make this a little longer. I hope you enjoy it, coendou, and Happy Holidays. Thanks to the sherlockmas mods for running this fest.
The air was cool and carried with it a light frost which had dusted the trees and the long spikes of grass in the graveyard. As John walked, the gravel path crunched beneath his feet and the chill wind caused him to pull his coat more firmly around his body, as he blew hot puffs of air onto his hands and rubbed them together for extra warmth. When he reached the gravestone he had come specifically to visit, he stood as he always did, and glared.
“I’m furious with you. Still.” John reached his hand out to touch the cool stone and continued, somewhat begrudgingly. “But I miss you.”
“You do know it’s rather rude to speak ill of the dead?”
John closed his eyes and swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m going barmy. Hearing things.”
“If you opened your eyes you would be seeing things too,” Sherlock agreed. John could feel the heat of another body, taller than his own, next to him. He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, petrified of seeing some sort of spectre although every instinct in his body told him that wasn’t possible.
“It can’t be…” Finally, John opened his eyes and turned to see Sherlock standing next to him, looking very much alive. He poked him in the arm just to be sure that Sherlock was indeed flesh and bone. He was rewarded with a glare before Sherlock turned back to look at the grave.
“Yet somehow, it is.” Sherlock sighed as he brushed his fingers against the headstone. “For future reference I would have preferred black marble. Much more aesthetically pleasing. An appropriate epitaph about my many achievements wouldn’t have gone amiss either.”
“I’ll try to remember. For next time.” John snorted and looked at Sherlock, drinking in the sight of him as the ache which had settled around his heart lifted a little. “Are you planning to explain yourself anytime soon?”
“In good time.” Sherlock nodded to a spot next to John. “We have company.”
“We do?” John turned to see a peculiar looking man watching them both. He was dressed in an odd assortment of winter fashions in numerous clashing colours, topped off with a wide-brimmed straw hat. “Who the hell are you?”
“A friend,” the man replied.
“But the question is, whose friend?” Sherlock looked at the man, taking in the attire and John could almost hear the machinery working in Sherlock’s brain before he started laughing. “Good Lord, I haven’t seen one of your sort for quite some time.” Sherlock leaned in to the man and John felt the heat of Sherlock’s body against his own as he did so. “I’m not just any ordinary Muggle, you know - I know all about your world. You can’t keep much from me.”
“We know exactly who you are, Sherlock Holmes.” The man smiled at Sherlock and pointed at the sky. “There’s a storm coming from the west. I would suggest you find shelter while you can. These trees don’t look as if they will withstand it.”
“Is that so? Well that is very interesting.” Sherlock pushed John gently to move before he turned back to the man. “Let’s hope this one causes minimal damage.”
“We will do what we can to keep it contained.”
“Be sure you do. Good day.” Sherlock dipped his head towards the man and looked around the cemetery once more before he set off towards the gates.
“Sherlock…” John tried to keep as Sherlock who had started walking at a rather alarming speed. “Will you slow down?”
“No time, something’s coming.”
“What? What’s coming?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something big.” Sherlock stopped at the gates of the cemetery and pondered for a moment. “Storm from the west…this way,” he said as he gestured down a small path. They continued walking in silence until they came to a small park. “This should do it.”
“Wonderful. Now what the hell are you doing here? Alive, I mean.” John folded his arms and turned to give Sherlock his very best exasperated glare.
“I rather thought you would be pleased.” Sherlock looked over John for a moment and reached out to smooth his jacket. “Circles under your eyes, indicating tiredness, chapped skin indicated time spent outdoors in the cold - most likely in a graveyard given recent events - and a jacket that is in dire need of replacing.” Sherlock grinned and spread his arms wide. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed me.”
“You’re infuriating.” John looked around the quiet park and leaned closer. “Not to mention you are supposed to be dead.”
“Not quite.” Sherlock shook his head and arched an eyebrow at John. “What? You don’t believe in magic?”
“No I don’t bloody believe in magic, and neither do you.”
“Of course I do.” Sherlock scoffed at John and threw his long coat down on the cold ground, stretching out on it and looking up at the sky. “It’s remarkably refreshing being alive again. Who would have thought pretending to be dead would be so exhausting?”
John stripped out of his own jacket and threw it on the floor next to Sherlock, lying down and following Sherlock’s gaze with a frown. “I bet. And don’t tell me you believe in magic. It flies in the face of everything you used to tell me about logic and science.”
“Incorrect.” Sherlock turned his head to the side and smiled at John - that damned annoying smile which made John want to shake him - or kiss him, he hadn’t quite decided yet. “Magic is just a form of advanced science. It’s been around since the beginning of time, in one form or another. Besides, the existence of it has been proven to me more than once.”
“You’re completely mad.” John stared at Sherlock for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t think I will ever understand you.”
“You’re not the first person to say that and I suspect you won’t be the last.” Sherlock turned back to look at the sky and John shifted closer, watching the clouds moving along in the wind.
“As much as it pains me to say it, you’re probably right.”
“I’m always right.”
“Not always.” John frowned as he searched for example but drew a blank, waving his hand dismissively as he shivered in the cool air. “Cold out.”
“There’s a war coming.” Sherlock nodded to the clouds as if they signified something ominous and tapped his finger to his lips. “It will be something bigger than you and I have seen before - you heard the man.”
“No.” John stared at Sherlock and propped himself onto his elbow, looking down at him. “What man?”
“The man who warned us at the cemetery - I confess being sorry to leave, but I require a little more information before I involve myself in their war, although I am sure I could be most useful.”
“He was warning us about a war?” John looked back in the direction they had come and then down at Sherlock again, trying to pull his thoughts together. “He interrupted our conversation before I could start yelling at you and said something about the weather. That was all.”
“You need to pay more attention to the things that happen around you.” Sherlock laughed with delight, on the cusp of revealing another delicious secret. “He was quite clear something big was coming. He told us to find shelter. The trees in the cemetery would have been adequate in the event of rain. He was warning us against something else.”
“Magic…” John shook his head. “I can’t quite believe it.”
“I came back from the dead, did I not?”
“Oh come on, you’re not telling me that’s magic are you?”
Sherlock laughed. “Not in the slightest. That was genius.”
“Shut up you daft bastard.” With a choked laugh because he really had missed Sherlock, John leaned down and took a chance. He pressed their lips together a slow, chaste sort of kiss. He expected Sherlock to push him away but after a moment without any response, John felt Sherlock tentatively begin to kiss back. With a soft moan, low in his throat, John pressed closer and felt a hand tangle tentatively in his hair, just as he liked it. He wondered how Sherlock knew that he enjoyed that, but he supposed Sherlock knew bloody everything.
After a moment, John pulled back and lay back down, looking up at the stars as he felt a smile tug at his lips.
“What was that?” John liked the fact that Sherlock’s voice sounded a little gravelly and he wondered how else he could make Sherlock sound if he could put his mind to it. He turned back to Sherlock and smiled, meeting his dark gaze head on.
“That? That was my sort of magic.”
“I see.” Sherlock sounded amused and the two men lay side by side, watching, as the clouds moved through the sky. “You were going to yell at me?”
“I thought about it.” John laughed at the ridiculous situation he appeared to have found himself in and was certain Sherlock was definitely back - life had been frightfully dull without him. “I decided to do something else.”
“I think I am happier with the alternative.” Sherlock laughed with John and the sound echoed in the quiet park. “What were your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I didn’t really have any.” John closed his eyes for a moment and let the cool air wash over his face. When he opened them again, Sherlock had propped himself up on his elbow and was looking down at John.
“Perhaps it’s time to go home?”
“To Baker Street?” John smiled at Sherlock and nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
“Not always.” John made a mental note to think of some examples he could use when he had finished using his brain to try to understand how Sherlock had survived. “Now let’s go. My arse is getting wet lying here and I need you to explain to me exactly how it is that you are not dead.”
“Ah yes. That.” With a knowing smile, Sherlock stood and reached his hand for John to help him up. “It’s quite simple when you give it some proper thought.”
“Is that so?”
Sherlock smiled as they began to walk. “Yes. Elementary, you could say.”
The clouds in the sky lifted a little as the two men walked side by side, their heads bowed together, leaving the flashes of greens, reds and ambers in the sky above the cemetery far behind.
~Fin~