Bit by this little plot bunny late last night. It's based off of the song 'Long Time Traveller' by The Wailin' Jennys. It's a beautiful song, and the first time I heard it, I just fell in love with it. I think it's perfect for The Great Hiatus and for a post-Reichenbach reunion.
I definitely suggest listening to it while reading, or at least checking out the lyrics.
Warnings: spoilers for TRF; slight John/Sherlock slash
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything like it.
I have been away for so long. In the scheme of things, a year and a half may not really be all that long, but it simply felt interminable. I've made several trips to London during my death, only to catch a glimpse of my friends… of the people I love. My visits were always brief. The danger was too great for me to stay very long. John was always my priority, always the one I wanted to see first. I have been all over the world taking down Moriarty's network. I have seen magnificent things, places of great and indescribable beauty, and yet, the only place I long to see is Baker Street. The sight I desire most is John's face, John's smile, John's eyes. Whenever I saw him, I wanted nothing more than to approach and embrace him, to reveal that I was alive, but I knew I could not. Revealing myself would only cause his death. I would not allow that.
Every amazing place I went, I could only hear John's voice in my head, trying to tell me how wonderful it all was. I desperately wished for my blogger to be at my side. The people I met were all so kind I was almost shocked. I suppose my time spent among the criminal element quite ruined me for people until this point. The people of Tibet, I believe, were my favourite. They welcomed my interest in their culture and religion, welcomed me into their lives. I went to Cairo in the midst of a huge demonstration and saw thousands of people coming together for what was right and just. It was much the same when I spent time in America during the height of their Occupy Wall Street movement.
I was welcomed into strangers' homes where I was treated with extraordinary kindness by everyone, and they never expected anything in return but my story. They listened with rapt attention, intrigued by the odd Brit in their presence. I never told them who I really was or anything of Moriarty. I did not mention John by name. I simply told them that I was trying to protect the person I loved. They adored me.
Nothing, however, could replace the love and affection I craved from John. My own heart. I dispatched my enemies quickly as possible just to get back to him sooner. Some were killed, others imprisoned. Each was a small victory, another step toward my ultimate goal.
My return is largely out of necessity but also desire. The final enemy is a Col. Sebastian Moran, and the devil has made his way into London. He knows I'm chasing him. He knows I'm alive. I am more afraid for John than I have ever been in my life. I must get to him first, save him. I go to Baker Street during the day. Moran will not attack in daylight. He is a coward. I go in disguise, pounding on the door until John lets me in. I pretend to be one of the Homeless Network needing help. John always appreciated my Network and was very kind to all of them. He easily lets me into our rooms. It's no problem at all to distract him long enough to remove my disguise.
He nearly faints at the sight of me in the sitting room. He approaches me slowly, like he's in a dream. I watch him nervously.
"Sherlock?" he whispers hoarsely, "Is… is it really you?"
My voice is stolen away, and I can only nod. John reaches out and grips my wrist tightly, as if to confirm I am flesh and blood.
"Where have you been?" he asks.
"All over the world, John. I've seen… so many things. Amazing things."
He starts to tremble, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He whispers, "It's you. It's really you," over and over, eyes looking me up and down. Finally, he grabs me in a fierce embrace, clinging to me and crying. I cannot stop myself. Tears fall from my own eyes, and we just cry in each other's arms, holding the other tightly. I breathe him in, reveling in his familiar scent.
"Why didn't you tell me? Or take me with you?" he asks at long last, his face in my shoulder.
"I had to protect you, John. The world had to believe I was dead so you could live. I'm very nearly finished the work I had to do to keep it that way."
"What's that? What work?"
"Destroying Moriarty's network."
John pulls back and looks up at me, cupping my face to wipe away my tears. I feel my lip tremble and put my hands around his wrists, unconsciously feeling for his pulse.
"Oh, John, I missed you so much," I blurt out, "Every day, I wanted to come back to you, to stop your suffering. I just couldn't have lived if you had died. I… I would stay away forever if only I knew you would be safe. I only want you to be safe. I spent my days around some of the most amazing places in the world… and all I longed for was this."
"What?"
"Home."
I try to pour all my feelings of love and safety into that one word. His own lip trembles as he tries to smile, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks.
"I… John, I…" I stammer, "I love you."
"Sherlock," he murmurs, "Oh, Sherlock, I've missed you so much."
It only seems natural to close the distance between us and press our lips together. Years of passion and longing come together in this moment. He doesn't let go of my face even as I wrap my arms around his waist. The kiss is not heated or lusty. It's simply full of love and longing and tinted with sadness. Whenever he pulls away, even for a moment, he murmurs, "I love you," his breath ghosting over my lips. I cry some more.
At some point, we sit on the couch, curling into one another. He puts his head on my chest, and I know he is listening to my heartbeat. He threads his fingers in between mine, just holding my hand. I press my face into his hair and breathe deeply. I am finally home.
I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling so far from home
I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down