A BBC Sherlock Fanfic: Who Knew?
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters, settings, and other story elements belong to respective owners of BBC land & Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. But I love them and happened to put letters in this order The song (in italics) belongs to Pink.
SPOILER NOTE FOR THE NON-CANONICAL: Please take heed that this story refers to events of "The Final Problem" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in which Holmes & Watson, pursued by a destroyed and desperate Moriarty, escape to Switzerland. Hidden in the Alps, the Holmes & Watson go for a walk to Reichenbach Falls, and Watson receives a message that a sick Englishwoman back at the hotel wishes to consult him (a hoax). Watson nonetheless leaves and Moriarty appears. Moriarty and Holmes physically fight, both plummeting to their deaths (?) in the falls.
Please enjoy the fiction and review!
You took my hand, you showed me how
You promised me you'd be around
Uh huh, that's right
I reached out my hand to take the ID from his gloved fingers, liking the small tingle that went up my arm at our touch. "Where did you get this? Detective Inspector Lestrade."
"I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that: got plenty back at the flat." I started laughing. This man...was something else. I glanced at him, recognizing confusion on his expressive face. "What?" he asked.
I don't think I could explain it to him. Not properly anyway. "Nothing, just 'Welcome to London.'"
I took your words and I believed
In everything you said to me
Yeah huh, that's right
As soon as I closed the door to the living room I exploded, "Sherlock! What the hell?"
"John, would you stop being upset for 5 minutes-" No matter that I hadn't said a word and struggled (successfully I thought) to not have any angry body language on the taxi ride home. Sherlock bloody Holmes. He went straight to the mantlepiece, pressing his eyes with his hands, refusing to look at me. When he reached the empty fireplace, he just stood there. It infuriated me even more.
"Why didn't you save her? I could have managed it myself!"
"Irene is perfectly capable-"
"THERE WAS A GUN TO HER HEAD, SHERLOCK!"
"Well, in case you didn't notice, you did too. And I..."
His voice had caught and this hitch seemed to dissipate my anger a little. If I was this upset then he probably was more so.
"Sherlock, don't save me next time," I said quietly, releasing the breath that I hadn't known I was holding and letting my somehow extended arms drop to my trembling sides.
"I refuse."
"What?"
"I refuse." He twirled around to face me, arms going to his sides and eyes seemingly swimming with turquoise fire. But then the fire suddenly dimmed. "I refuse to lose you, John Watson. I-you-well." I was stunned. He coughed and straightened his back, seeming to regain composure. "I love you."
If someone said three years from now
You'd be long gone
I'd stand up and punch them out
Cause they're all wrong
I know better
Cause you said forever
And ever, who knew?
"And you think he'll be with you forever?" Sally arched her eyebrow, arms crossed her chest.
"Yes." I said and then chuckled. "Well, I'll be with him forever."
"Freak will likely die on you any minute now," she said flippantly, "Unless you die first, running after him as you do."
She made to walk away past me, but I grabbed her shoulder, fingers digging slightly into her coat. "How can you say things like that?" I said dangerous anger lacing my voice to match the glare in my eyes, army intimidation tactics coming through. She shivered in fear. Softer I said, "Since Lestrade has you on his team, I know you can be better, Sally. I'm sorry for whatever Sherlock did to you that made you so jaded against him."
Remember when we were such fools
And so convinced and just too cool
Oh no, no no
We were running down the street, dodging the walking people. The adrenaline raced through my veins and I let out a laugh. Sherlock was ahead of me, great black coat blowing out behind him in the wind. I saw Lestrade's police car heading towards us, its driver looking very annoyed. "Hurry John! In here!" Sherlock made a sharp turn into a shop. I burst into the room, startling customers, upsetting a few cups of tea and knocking some faces closer to their frozen creams then entirely necessary while following my world's only consulting detective past the shop counter through the back door out to another alleyway. I felt so alive.
I wish I could touch you again
I wish I could still call you a friend
I'd give anything
Kissing in the rain was a wet, pleasurable business.
When someone said count your blessings now
For they're long gone
I guess I just didn't know how
I was all wrong
"I'm glad you have come to a satisfactory arrangement, Dr. Watson," said Mycroft, tapping his umbrella against concrete during another one of our faux kidnapping chats.
"Thank you," I grinned.
Mycroft smiled back and then frowned slightly, "But, John as a friend I must warn you, my brother is in an especially dangerous line of business considering present circumstances. Its implications should not be ignored-"
"John, stop talking to him!" shouted a winded Sherlock who erupted through the deserted parking garage's exit stair door. "You really should stop this, Mycroft."
"I'm sorry to worry you, little brother, but I imagined you would find us soon enough."
The said brother stalked indignant to my side, glared at his sibling, and took my hand, gloved fingers warming my cold ones. "Come along, John, we have work to do away from this man." He tugged me towards the door, and I began to follow him.
Turning my head back to Mycroft with an apologetic smile on my face, I told the elder brother, "Thank you for your concern. I understand the risks, but he is worth it."
Before the view of Mycroft was blocked by the metal Exit door, I saw him smile again and nod. He took a deep breath and called after us as the door slammed. "Mummy worries Sherlock."
But they knew better
Still you said forever and ever
Who knew? Yeah yeah
The worst of it was not being there. It was all left to my (horrific) imagination.
I'll keep you locked in my head
Until we meet again
Until we, until we meet again
And I won't forget you my friend
What happened?
There was no body, but a grave-marker nonetheless. Outside on the Holmes estate. Inside of my mind.
If someone said three years from now
You'd be long gone
I'd stand up and punch them out
Cause they're all wrong
I didn't know if Sherlock had appreciated flowers as he had done the stars, but I strewed petals to match the universe nonetheless.
And that last kiss I'll cherish
Until we meet again
And time makes it harder
I wish I could remember
"John."
I turned around my head around, my mind careening away from the distressed lady back at the Swiss hotel to the strange look on Sherlock's face. Almost...desperate, forced, conflicted: the emotions and counter emotions trying to mask the true ones battling on his face. His eyes looked down at the dirt, "John, I-"
Suddenly, he grabbed my collar, dragged me towards him, and crushed my lips to his, the kiss twinning icy skin and fire need. It didn't fit with the situation: tending a patient a short walk away was not exactly life threatening. Being apart at this time, with Moriarty breathing down our necks, was nerve-wracking though. That must be it. His fingers were literally lifting me up to his height almost, knuckles going white with effort.
"I love you, John," he breathed in my ear the heat of it making my skin prickle.
I wrapped my arms around him. I was here. He needed to know that. I was not going to leave him. Ever. Kissing his temple, his left cheek, his right cheek, and his forehead in tune to each word I replied, "I love you too." Staring him straight into his worried, pained eyes, I intoned, "As it was in the beginning it is now and ever shall be. I am not going to desert you. I will be right back." I kissed him on the lips softly, soothingly.
He relaxed and released me. Watching me stumble away he ran a hand through his hair. "Go," he whispered, looking again at the ground and putting his hands in his coat pockets, kicking a small pebble with his foot. I began to walk away, but the scene changed. I was looking over the cliff seeing the body of my love plummeting down to watery death, the ethereal, pale face upturned towards me, wreathed in blue and white spray. White sheets grasped him, crushed him, and made him disappear from sight forever.
And then I woke up sweating.
But I keep your memory
You visit me in my sleep
My darling, who knew?
My darling
My darling, who knew?
My darling I miss you
My darling, who knew?
I knew it would be dangerous, but not that it would hurt this much. Your ghost haunts me, flitting through dust and mirrors, reminding me of what once was. And I shall carry this scarlet chain that binds us and keeps us and saves us until the end of days.
Who knew?