Title: Something Remembered
Fandom: Sherlock/Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: none
Spoilers: Through The Great Game for Sherlock and eventually through A Good Man Goes To War for Doctor Who
Disclaimer: Do I look like I own any of this? Because, sadly, I don't.
Warnings: violence
Summary: When John is kidnapped, he starts to remember something.
Author's Notes: written for the
sherlockbbc-fic kink meme. Also, my first attempt at writing for Sherlock.
Previous Parts:
Part One,
Part Two,
Part Three,
Part Four,
Part Five,
Part Six,
Part Seven,
Part Eight In spite of his unease John found tea with Sherlock and Rani rather pleasant. Rani was an interesting conversationalist, with a dry sense of humor that John could appreciate. And while she and Sherlock often slipped into technical terms that went right over John's head, he never got the feeling that either of them was trying to leave him out on purpose. They just operated on a higher level than most people.
It was actually nice to see just where Sherlock got it from.
As much as he tried to fight it as he didn't want to seem rude, it only took about an hour before his exhaustion started to catch up with him and John was trying in vain to hide a yawn behind his tea cup. There was a moment when he hoped that no one had noticed, but he sighed in defeat when he noticed Rani looking at him with a knowing expression in her eyes.
"Sherlock, dear, I think it's time you get your doctor up to bed. He needs his rest if he wants to recover."
Despite the fact that she'd been talking to Sherlock, Rani's eyes had never left John. It made him feel slightly uncomfortable, though he did his best not to let it show. Even ignoring the fact that it wouldn't be polite, especially as he was a guest in her house, the last thing he wanted to do was somehow insult the mother that Sherlock adored.
So John merely nodded at her with a smile and let Sherlock nudge him to his feet and back towards the guest room. In almost no time at all he was in bed, biting back a chuckle at the expression on Sherlock's face which made it obvious that the other man was seriously considering tucking John in.
"I'll be fine, Sherlock. Go spend time with your mother."
Sherlock looked like he was about to argue, but he surrendered with a huff after John raised an eyebrow. "Fine, John. You know where I'll be if you need anything, and I will be checking in on you later."
John smiled and nodded in agreement. He considered it a success that he'd gotten Sherlock to agree to leave at all, so he was perfectly willing to compromise. On this, at least.
Even though it was still early it wasn't long before John was asleep and dreaming again. At least, he thought he was dreaming though there was a soft voice in the back of his mind telling him that he wasn't. That he was remembering.
He felt terribly small, like a child, as he was held in a young redhead's arms. There was a young man standing behind her, and both of them were looking at him in silence with eyes that seemed much too old for their faces. They seemed to radiate sadness, and for some reason John desperately wanted to see them smile. Though he somehow knew they wouldn't.
When the woman finally spoke, tears welling in her eyes, John could hear the words a split second before she said them, as if he'd heard them before. And in the back of his mind he knew he had.
"I'm so sorry, but it has to be this way. You've done so much, given so much for us. Now it's our turn. Let us keep you safe this time."
Her voice was soft, the Scottish accent filling John with a sense of comfort. She paused for a moment, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks as the man placed a hand on her shoulder in support.
"This time you'll have to be the one waiting."
For some reason John suddenly felt like crying along with her. Then there was another woman looking at him from over the redhead's other shoulder. "It's time." She shifted until she could comfortably lean down and kiss John's forehead. "We'll be back for you, sweetie. When it's safe for you, we'll be back. I promise."
The next instant John was sitting up in bed, tears on his cheeks and a blinding pain in his head. But there was also the image of a young redhead that not even the pain could erase.
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