One More Miracle
( A OUaT/ Sherlock Crossover)
Note: This fic starts in Season 2, Episode 9 (Queen of Hearts) of Once Upon a Time and after Season 2, Episode 6 of Sherlock (The Reichenbach Fall)
I don't think anyone will read this, since it's hard to find a fan of both shows, but I had a muse for it after listening to both soundtracks, so here it is! Reviews are welcome and appreciated.
..
"Every fairytale needs a good, old fashioned villain!" Moriarty's voice echoed in his mind. The blurred image of his archenemy's smile blurred into an image of an elderly woman.
"Odd name. German…like the fairytales!" Mrs. Hudson had told him while walking back to his living space.
'Rumplestiltskin,' he thought.
The image of Mrs. Hudson blurred to his hands, and the bright yellow storybook that was within the envelope in the toy box of the missing children, similar to the one John had discovered beside the door to his former flat, 221b.
'Fairy tales? Why fairy tales?' he remembered himself thinking.
The image faded into Moriarty's jail cell with one single word being written repeatedly along its walls.
Sherlock.
He then remembered the apple, carved with the message I O U, and most horrifically, The Fall.
He woke up, momentarily in a nervous sweat from his nightmares. He glanced at the alarm clock; 2:35 a.m. On the nightstand beside the alarm clock sat his violin bow, his wallet, a plane ticket from London to Augusta, and a pack of cigarettes along with a post card that read 'Storybrooke' on the front; all tossed around haphazardly beside the bed.
"Storybrooke, Maine. The first day after my supposed death." He mumbled, closing his eyes and fell back to sleep in the inn's cheap sheets.
…
( Fairy Tale land, present)
Emma, Mary Margaret, Mulan, and Aurora all possessed frustrated looks on their faces as they were trapped in what was formerly Rumplestiltskin's cell, courtesy of Cora. Mary Margaret stared blankly at the scroll that had Emma's name written on it throughout. Suddenly, Mary Margaret's expression changed to one of hope, as if there were an animated light bulb floating above her head.
"We are going to get out of here!" Mary Margaret exclaimed, her hazel eyes gleaming with joy.
"How? By staring at that scroll? It's not like it's going to magically open the door for…" Emma said.
"Yes, it is." Mary Margaret stated.
"What?" Emma asked.
"When I was a little girl, I used to sneak into Cora's chamber and watch her practice magic. She had a spell book and, Emma…The spells were in her book!"
The blonde sighed.
"Yeah, isn't that what a spell book is? A book that has spells in it?"
"Watch." She commanded.
Mary Margaret blew on the paper, causing the ink to lift off the page.
"Told you! Good always wins!" Mary Margaret beamed.
Finally, the gate opened.
…
(Storybrooke, present day)
Granny walked down the hall inside her inn, frustrated. She knocked on the door to room 2 loudly.
Sherlock, opening his eyes to wake up, jumped slightly at the noise. He quickly gathered a robe and answered the door.
The elderly woman gave a slight smile; he looked like an overgrown child.
"Hello…sir. I didn't catch your name. It's almost noon. Emma, the sheriff, is going to pick you up soon. Will you be ready in fifteen minutes?"
Sherlock blinked.
"I never gave it. Call me Sher…wood. Sherwood Hayes. Yes, I'm ready. I already packed my things. Just give me a minute to…get dressed. I overslept! How silly of me." He gave a fake smile.
If I am to be protected, I need to seem normal. He thought. As he followed the woman to the lobby to wait for Emma, his thoughts wandered.
Molly had been flawless in her act of helping him fake his suicide; it was as if he had actually died. She had provided the medical team, who were sworn to secrecy to his true condition. Molly had provided a bus, mattress, a faint but still visible chalk square for him to fall on that contained the mattress beside the red bus, which had carried the mattress along with it after his fall. They even had fake blood on hand, and Molly had told him about an old magic trick to fake his pulse around John. John had been distracted by the cyclist, which had thrown him to the ground, seemingly by accident.
John. Oh poor, poor John.
He had been his best friend, and all because of him, no…because of Moriarty,…
"Hello." Emma had come in and was sitting next to the man in the black peacoat and navy scarf, who seemed to be in deep thought.
"Oh! Um…hi. Are you the sheriff? The one who's taking me in for the witness protection program?" Sherlock asked the woman.
"Yep. That's me. Emma Swan." She extended a hand. Right handed.
"Sherwood Hayes." They shook hands, and walked out to Emma's yellow bug.
"It's ironic that you're a cop, and yet you're driving a stolen vehicle.." He mumbled.
Emma's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"What did you say?" She asked.
"Nothing. It's ironic that you're a cop, and yet you're driving such a stunning vehicle."
"Oh. Uh..thanks. We're going to my apartment. It'll be a little cramped. We're still trying to figure things out." She explained.
They pulled into the parking space and walked a few steps. Emma opened the door.
"Hi! Who is this?" Mary Margaret beamed from behind the kitchen counter, her arm around David.
"This is Sherwood. He'll be staying here, just for a while."
"Hello." He shook David's hand.
"These are my…roommates, David and Mary Margaret.
"You must be her father and mother, then?" he asked.
Their eyebrows raised.
"Well, it's quite obvious, really! Just look at the turn-ups on her genes!" He exclaimed, pacing across the floor.
"Sorry." He said lowly.
"It's..okay. How did you.." Emma asked.
"It's quite simple, really. You were first roommates with Mary Margaret, as shown by the picture of only her and you on the coffee table. Since you look alike, I would immediately assume sister, or cousin, but more likely sister. Then David came along and married her. Yet, you still live with them regardless. Not the traditional family setup to keep your old roommate around. Money is not tight, as I can tell by your mother's teaching profession, and your father's animal care position. Don't ask how I know, that would make me have to explain so much more. So, the reason is not that at all, you love each other. No one that is not family would be able to sustain that living arrangement, which ultimately brings me to you, Emma. You have your mother's chin and facial structure, yet your father's fairer features. You are obviously related to him. If she were indeed your sister and married a blood relative of yours, it wouldn't make sense. I also noticed your father's reaction; territorial. He is protective of you. Your mother's was the opposite; excited that you were bringing home a man. Of course, when they found out my purpose, your father relaxed and your mother was less excited. Emma, you also didn't know how to introduce them to me, as roommates or family."
Henry came out from behind the corner, backpack in tow.
"Ah. There's the son." He said, sipping his cocoa.