Hi everybody, sadly I don't own Sherlock otherwise I would have written all 70 cases up and got Benedict and Martin to act them all just for me! lol
Pls review, this it was my dream from last night!
Love and virtual cupcakes for all
Jasxx
John had meant to run up to his room, grab his browning and an overnight bag, then hurry back to 221b, and that impossible man. He'd told the strange mans assistant he was just going to get a few things, although he had his suspicions she knew exactly what he was doing. His heart was beating hard against his ribs, but his hands were steady as he walked through the darkened room, and took his gun from the desk draw.
"Captain Watson?" A voice out of the darkness called, John span around, leveling his gun towards the voice. Sitting cross-legged on his bed was a teenage girl, John stared at her, the girl couldn't have been more than 15, with long red hair wearing and an expression of pure innocence. Despite himself John lowered his gun, and cocked his head at her enquiringly.
"Who the devil are you?" he asked slowly
"Close" she pouted then laughed, not making any effort to move, "You've decided to join the war, and that's going to make so many people, so happy!" She laughed again, and John decided enough was enough. He went to pull her off his bed, but his hand went straight through the girl's wrist.
"What? Who are you? Why are you here?" he shouted his hand tingling with cold.
"Oh you know exactly what I am John, you've seen enough battles" she floated up slightly off his bed, and stretched out a hand to him, as he looked the small childlike hand stretched out became more like a claw and started reaching towards him.
"STOP" he ordered, and the claw retreated and became a young girls hand again, "I get it you're a battle sprite" he ran a hand through his hair, "why are you here?"
"Oh, John, I'm not any battle sprite, I'm a bound sprite, my services are given to one practitioner, and he has sent me, as a gift to you, as another." She stood up from the bed, and with a flick of her wrist produced a small rucksack, packed with some essentials for John.
"I'm not a 'practitioner' I've not…. not for ages, I've avoided, that since I went to… to the war." He stumbled, resting on the edge of the desk.
"Magic saved your life in Afghanistan, magic dragged you back here, you may not wish to use your gifts, but you are still ingrained with the power. Your presence has been noted, your involvement in this war has been spotted, and your retrieval of that weapon has been seen as your acceptance of the rules of engagement. My keeper would like to help you in any way he can, and so he's sent me as a welcome to London gift." She handed him the bag, shook all over for a moment, then stretched. As John watched the pretty and precocious child of a moment before shrink to a small furry winged demon, with large teeth and claws. "I will be following you, if you need me call me. I'm Keridwyn, by the way." With that, and with a stretch of her wings, she vanished.
John was left alone with his thoughts, his day was getting stranger and stranger. He had dabbled in the dark arts all his life, his Grandmother being a sorceress. However it wasn't something he advertised, and after Afghanistan he'd decided he would never use magic again. Now some Prospero and given him use of his Ariel, a strange man had kidnapped him and offered him money to be a spy, a stranger man had decided to move in with him, and he had been to the scene of a serial killers latest victim.
John was standing across the courtyard banging on the window, screaming Sherlock's name for all he was worth. He was going to take the poison, John didn't know why but he could see the vial in Sherlock's shaking hands, and that impossible man was going to take the bloody poison.
"I'd shoot the cabby if I were you" Keridwyn whispered in his ear, placing the Browning in Johns unresisting hand. "The magic currently crackling off you could power the national grid, if you don't shoot him, some of my fellow demons will be driven so mad by your stress, they'll just blow the whole area up." She was laughing again, flicking between her teenage girl look, and her demon look like a bad TV reception. John could feel the static he was producing, feel the fear for Sherlock, found the gun in his hand, and with the steady hand of the soldier, he shot through the window, he shot the cabby.
His body slumped physically, and the static left the room the moment the gun was fired. He felt Keridwyn's claws clamp over his wrist, and she dragged him out of the building. He was vaguely aware of police and cars, but they didn't seem to notice him or the creature dragging him behind her. Using her teenage disguise she bundled him into a taxi, and ordered the driver to take them back to the college. They arrived to see Sherlock being bundled into the back of an ambulance, and as John went and spoke to Sally Donovan, Keridwyn squeezed his hand briefly.
"I will be following you, if you need me call me."
My wife Lucy is a great one for welsh folk stories, she would know more than me but Keridwyn is the crone in Celtic legends, she had a cauldron that could restore a man back to life. A wizard drank from her cauldron, so she ate him and gave birth to the bard Talisan. I was dreaming of John in the Cauldron in Afghanistan, then the idea that the battle sprites following the soldiers over there might just as well have their work cut out over Sherlock and Mycrofts battlefield. Then stealing the prompt from loads of you who have made John a witch or a mage, what if he became Prospero, from the Tempest, to his own Ariel. Although I think Sherlock would work that out fairly quickly. My niece who is 5 doesn't like the picture of battle sprites over waterloo that hangs on my mother in laws walls, she thinks they look like little girls, quite rightly she believes battle sprites would be more practical if they looked like the flying monkeys from the wizard of oz.
