Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: Thanks for all the love! Glad to see everyone is liking the story as much as me!
John clung onto Sherlock. A light engulfed them both and when John opened his eyes; they were back in the forest. John let go of Sherlock and he stepped back.
John was on fire. Every bone in his body was humming. His veins felt like liquid metal was running through them. He lifted his hands and they were white with green glowing around him. John didn't know how long he could control it or how much longer he would last. But it had to be done, and quickly.
The man lifted his hands and shot a ball of energy at John. Without a second thought, John's hands moved in an intricate spell that he had never learned. Green brust through his fingertips and blocked the attack. It then stretched out and reached out to grab the warlock.
He dodged and started to run towards John. He jumped and was about to tackle John, when another tendril of aether reached out from him. It wrapped around the warlock's arms and tightened around his neck. John could feel it strangling the man. John had killed many men but it had always been with a bullet.
Now, he could feel the man's pulse slowly fading. He was fighting, thrashing against his restraints. John felt more power surge through him and squeezed tighter.
"John! Stop!"
John snapped out of his trance. Sherlock was gripping both of his shoulders. John tried to shrug him off, but Sherlock clung on so tight that John could feel it bruising his skin. "John! Wake up!" Sherlock shook him. "Let him go!" John tried to understand Sherlock's words. They didn't make any sense. Let him go? Why?
John ignored the other man's words and gave his full attention back to the warlock in his power. If he put just a bit more pressure around his neck. John let the aether have more control. It burst in him, and John's heart was beating out of control. He gripped harder.
"John! You're going to kill yourself!"
The words rang in his head. It was true. John's body couldn't handle the aether for much longer. It was pulsating, ripping apart his cells in its search for more power. John was afraid that if he let warlock go he would kill them; kill Sherlock. How could they hope to defeat this monster without otherworldly power?
Sherlock's arms wrapped around his waist. The taller man pressed himself into John; trying to sooth him. A calm radiated from Sherlock and he used it to pacify the aether. The man wouldn't listen, maybe the aether would. Please, I beg of you. I love this man, don't take away everything that is precious to me. Sherlock pleaded to it.
Against his wishes, the aether began to strengthen. Sherlock begged but to no avail. The warlock thrashed and John concentrated pressing the power into the esophagus of the man. Almost.
There was a wet sensation on John's neck. It stung and John found his attention pulled to it. The aether loosened its grip some and John could feel a face scrunched up against his neck. Tears. John gasped and the light began to dim in his eyes. He could see around him again. The entire forest was bursting with green light and radiated warmly with magical power. John's grip slipped and the warlock was able to wiggle one arm out of his grasp.
John almost sent his aether out to reattach another tendril to him but stopped. Sherlock was shaking and he could hear him pleading against his neck. Please stop. Please stop. Oh, god, don't let him die. Realization snapped John back to his senses.
He calmed his breathing and slowed his heartbeat. The light began to fade and John felt his grip loosening on the warlock. John whispered to Sherlock. "Be ready." Sherlock let go of his waist and took a ready stance beside him.
The warlock wiggled out of his grasp and dropped to the ground. He twitched and writhed. Sherlock walked up to him and snapped his fingers. A burst of fire engulfed him and the warlock screamed in agony. All the aether drew back into John and his vision came back to him.
Sherlock was standing over the dead body of the warlock; it was burned and twisted beyond recognition. John spotted movement in the grass and moved towards Undine. The creature was lying down whimpering. John placed a hand on it and the aether began to bubble up in him again.
It was a different feeling than before. This time, it was a guiding light instead of an all encompassing blaze. It warmed him and he transferred it to Undine. The creature gave a soft whimper. John gently pet his muzzle with his other hand and soothed it as the life was drained from its spirit form.
John felt a presence behind him and knew it was Sherlock. The other man placed a hand on Undine and John could feel the other power; what made up Sherlock. Together, the two man helped Undine do what it could not alone. The creature gave out one final sigh and the light left its eyes.
Sherlock gasped. A blue thread of light reflected in his pointer finger. The last trace of Undine that had once been, had buried itself inside of Sherlock. The body faded in a burst of light and sparkle.
John and Sherlock could both hear a prayer of thanks reverberate in their ears.
The wood had began to rot almost instantaneously. John embraced Sherlock and clung on for dear life. Apologies tumbled from his lips. "Sherlock, I never meant to scare you. I just...lost control." John blinked back tears. What would have happened if Sherlock hadn't been there to stop him? Would the aether have devoured him as it killed the warlock? John shivered.
Sherlock kissed the top of his head. "It's fine. Your safe now. We're safe now." Sherlock stood up and dragged John up by his hands. They took in the carnage around them. There had been burn marks everywhere but they had faded when all the leaves began to rot away.
"Is the island in danger?" John shuddered at the thought of anyone else having to die.
Sherlock shook his head. "No. Only the plants will die. Mechanics and gears are keeping it in the air. Come doctor. Let us be back to the ship."
John allowed Sherlock to half carry, half drag him back to the Nautilus.
Sherlock groaned at the sight that awaited them at 221B. "Detective Inspector, what are you doing here?" Sherlock helped John into his chair and turned on the bunsen burner for tea.
Lestrade frowned. "I have a message from your brother." He glanced at John sympathetically. "He washes his hands of the whole situation."
"Yet, he will still clean up the mess behind." Sherlock smirked. "He doesn't want brother dearest soiling the good Holmes name." He began pacing the room.
The final rays of daylight were dancing across the room and John was transfixed by them. Maybe by the light of the moon it would all seem like a bad dream. He sighed. It was over, but John knew it really wasn't. The main problem still stood in the air, lingering over them. The final problem.
"Mycroft requested that you keep out of trouble. Mr. Holmes, Dr Watson, you didn't even manage it for a day." Lestrade pursed his lips. "Forgive me if I over step my boundaries, but I believe that the both of you just destroyed an entire ecosystem."
"He was evil...had to die." John spoke his first words and Sherlock placed a hand on his shoulder. "Whether it is convenient or not, people are now safer for it."
"But you're not. The more you do this, the more attention you draw to yourselves. Mycroft was trying to keep you safe, at least safer than you were trying to be."
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. "Why are you calling my brother 'Mycroft'? No one is allowed to call him...oh." His eyes took on an evil gleam. "Oh."
Lestrade tottered from foot to foot, blushing slightly. "Your brother, he..."
"Yes, well, to the subject at hand." Sherlock waved away the unspoken declaration from Lestrade. "The good doctor and I will do as we please." Sherlock corralled DI Lestrade towards the door. "Please be so kind as to tell Mycroft that I will send him a message when I am good and ready" Sherlock pushed him out and closed the door.
The kettle began to whistle. Sherlock walked over and poured a cup of tea. He handed it to John, who accepted it gratefully. "There's no reason to be so hard on Lestrade. Its your brother who has all the coddling issues."
Sherlock grunted. He took off his shirt and pulled off his boots. After sitting down in his chair he reached down and pulled a pipe out of his carpetbag. Lighting it, Sherlock let the tobacco fill his lungs. The sweet nicotine invaded his senses. It truly was the little things.
"You really shouldn't do that." John took another sip of tea.
"You have your way of relaxing and I have mine.
Sherlock contemplated telling John that a light had entered his body; no matter how small it had been. But when he glanced over and saw the bags of exhaustion under his eyes, Sherlock knew that now wasn't the time. Later. I'll tell him later. Sherlock took another puff on his pipe.
John licked his lips. "Well, I thought I would never say it, but I can't wait to leave this island behind."
"Me too."
John washed away the stress of the day. His muscles loosened and he let out a low moan. The bathroom was quickly becoming his favorite place on the airship. He toweled off his hair and brushed it. The soap, a combination of sage and peppermint, left a pleasant smell in his nostrils.
He donned a light shirt, trousers and a pair of suspenders. John sat on his bed and with a precision of years of practice, he cleaned his revolver. He placed it in the nook of his back and smiled at the comforting steel on his skin.
Glancing around the room, he picked up his hat and made his way over to 221B.
Sherlock had also showered. He was dressed in a blood red shirt and trousers that were as black as his hair. John's heart didn't think it could take any more in one day.
"You'd be happy to know that alchemists are already working hard to fix the flora. We're leaving port tonight but everything should be as it was before; other than a trapped spirit and a crazed warlock."
John sighed in relief. "I'm happy we could do some good."
Sherlock stood up and put on his dinner jacket. "Yes, fantastic. Shall we be off? There is an opera on C deck tonight and I thought it might be an enjoyable reprieve."
John smiled. "I do believe that is what the doctor ordered."
Sherlock frowned and John laughed as they made their way out of the cabin.
Dinner had been better than good, and the opera had soothed John's soul. The music had been tragic and preformed so well that even Sherlock couldn't complain. They were both completely content as they made their way back to the cabin.
The Nautilus had left Asmayda an hour before and John was happy that the dirigible was making its way towards England again. He closed the door behind them and gave John a wicked smile. John was slammed up against the door and Sherlock ran his fingers up John's sides and began to unbutton his shirt.
"Tonight was alleviating, but I must admit this was a lingering thought." Sherlock captured John's lips. It was soft and John made sure his reply was just as smoothing; just as needy.
That's why he's called 'the virgin'.
Mycroft's words played across John's mind. His lips stopped moving and Sherlock pulled away. "What?"
John blushed. "Are you...I mean, have you...?" What an embarrassing question to have to ask. Sherlock frowned at John's bumbling attempts at communication.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Not to me." John brushed his hands along Sherlock's back.
"I am." Sherlock locked onto his eyes.
John gulped. He went down and attached his mouth to Sherlock's neck. John ran his fingers over Sherlock's silk shirt. This man is impossible. He worked gentle kisses up to Sherlock's ear. He nibbled on his lobe before gathering the courage to ask.
"Do you want to be?"