I'm REALLY sorry for the delay in updating this one. Sitting down to edit it takes a great deal of time, and I've been extremely busy with another fic that I've been editing and posting (to check out my other work, go to /users/thebookworm214). I hope you enjoy this chapter. Here we go!
Chapter 15: Ignis
It was hours later before any of them were able to move or speak, John and Sherlock holding each other on the sofa, Jack wandering aimlessly through the Hub, sobbing occasionally, Gwen sitting at her desk, not watching the monitors and staring off into space. They couldn't think, couldn't eat, and every time Jack closed his eyes, he saw Ianto's anguished face begging for death and felt his own hands pull the trigger; is skin was still pink from the man's blood. Sherlock held John tightly, staring aimlessly at nothing most of the time. He sometimes watched Jack pace the Hub, and there was really nothing anybody could do to console him. John refused to let go of Sherlock's hand the entire day, terrified that he'd vanish or worse, until he couldn't stand sitting there anymore. "We need to get out of here. Sherlock. We need to leave the Hub for a bit."
"I know." He pulled himself off the couch, bringing John up with him. He felt kind of bad, leaving like this, but it wasn't good to just sit around and be miserable. John held his hand tightly as they left, wandering slowly back to the club they'd gone to only two weeks before. God, how the time had flown.
oOoOo
Gwen went into Jack's office. "I'm going to get a drink, want to come?" She figured he might want to be left alone, but she would feel bad not offering. The immortal looked up at Gwen with hollow eyes, nodding slowly and fighting back another round of sobs.
"Come on0" she murmured, offering a half-hearted smile; she couldn't stand seeing him in so much pain. Jack rose and grabbed his coat, the new one Ianto had made, barely suppressing another sob as he followed her from the Hub.
Gwen led him out to the SUV, getting in the driver's seat, and she gave her boss time to get settled in before driving for the nearest pub. Jack followed her inside, letting her order him a pint; he went through three before slowing down on his fourth, the buzz settling in. "I feel dead, Gwen."
She frowned. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said, not sure how to reply.
He shook his head. "He's gone...and he took my heart with him."
"Jack, Ianto wouldn't want you like this."
"Like what? I'm supposed to just forget him and move on? I promised I wouldn't."
"That's not what I'm saying. I just hate to see you so upset."
"I can't just spring back from this."
"I know...I'm sorry," Gwen apologized, staring into her glass.
Jack sighed, squeezing her arm. "Don't apologize. We-I couldn't go anything."
The former officer nodded. "I know. Nobody could have stopped it."
oOoOo
It felt so weird to see a place that was functioning normally, everybody happy and enjoying themselces; it seemed almost wrong, but nonetheless, Sherlock led John inside and onto the dance floor. The blonde boy smiled very slightly as Sherlock led the way, his boyfriend so much happier and confident than he had been before. He pulled him close, leaning against him as they started to dance, the music slow as the late night stragglers left.
Sherlock held John, swaying with him in time to the music. He rested his chin on the boy's head, smiling slightly into his hair. John hummed along to the music that surrounded them, breathing in the boy and reminding himself that he was alive and in his lover's arms. It comforted them both, the warmth their bodies, John's hair on Sherlock's cheek and the younger boy's heartbeat in John's ear.
"I love you, Sherlock," John whispered, nuzzling his chest
"I love you too, John," Sherlock murmured back, resting his hand on the back of John's head.
John finally pulled him down for a kiss, hungry yet sad, possessive as well, as if to say you'll always be mine. Sherlock kissed back, snaking his arms around John's waist. He needed an escape from the day, and right now, that was John. He didn't know how long they swayed there, kissing, holding each other, their love growing stronger by the second. Sherlock pulled back for air after a while, resting his forehead against John's, breathing him in. The blonde chuckled softly as air came rushing back into his body, suddenly thirsty. "I need a drink. Can I get you anything?"
"I'll have whatever you do."
"Be right back." John kissed him hard and made his way to the bar, soon lost from Sherlock's sight. The taller boy watched John until he couldn't see him anymore, then stood listening to the music, swaying slightly as he waited for his love to return. John ordered their drinks, waiting impatiently as he looked back. he couldn't see Sherlock...and then he couldn't see anything else.
oOoOo
Sherlock looked around the club, becoming a bit worried. His mobile vibrated in his pocket, and he answered it, moving near the restrooms so he could hear better. "Hello?"
"Tut, tut, Sherlock. After everything you've been through you actually thought it was a good idea to let him out of your sight?" The voice was silky with the hint of an Irish lilt to it; it was clearly smirking. Sherlock's heart stopped, and he fought to keep his voice even as he spoke. "May I ask who is calling?" He was already walking towards the bar, hoping that John was there, that this was a joke.
"You think I'd leave him where you last saw him? Honestly, I'm starting to wonder what all the fuss was about with you."
"Where is he? This isn't a game."
"Oh, but my dear boy, it is, the most delicious of games. I'm sure your deductions have already worked out my identity. Now you're just stalling."
Sherlock left the club; he knew John wouldn't be there. "You've already gotten one of our friends killed, I'm sorry to say my patience is short."
"The Welsh brat? Merely a tool to show you what I'm capable of."
"People have died!" he shouted into the phone, even though he knew this man did not care.
"That's what people DO!" The Irish voice yelled back.
"Give him back to me!" Sherlock stalked down the alley way, leaning against the wall while he worked to breathe evenly.
"Awww, poor baby sulking now? Lost your favorite toy? Your plaything?"
"He is not a toy," the genius seethed. "What do I need to do?"
"Ah, the broken child finally begins to understand." The voice was almost gleeful. "Say my name first. I know you know it."
"Moriarty."
"And? My other name? Surely you've worked that one out by now."
"Ignis perfidus." The only fire elemental they had a record on. "Treacherous Fire."
"Very good!" A small noise could be heard in the background before Jim hissed, silencing it. "Now, you know what I'm capable of and that I have your precious little pet. SO, why don't you take a little trip up to the roof of the building next to the one you were held in, hmmmm? I'm sure you remember the one...Captain Hart had his merry way with your untouched arse."
Sherlock swallowed hard. "And when I get there?"
"Let's play that by ear, shall we? Oh, and come alone. Wouldn't want Johnny boy to fall." The line went dead.
Sherlock hung up the phone and sprinted towards the building. John was in danger, John could be hurt, and the knowledge that he was still alive was the only thing driving him forward when his lungs began to burn and his legs threatened to give out. He arrived at the place a few minutes later, taking a moment to look at the ruins of the old building and catch his breath before heading next door.
oOoOo
John was shaking but didn't dare move, the red ring in the ground around his feet keeping him standing very, very still. His eyes grew sad as he saw Sherlock burst through the door on the roof, chest heaving, hair mussed, and eyes wild. "John!" he yelled, running towards the boy.
"NO!" A wall of flame flared up between them and it took everything John had not to move.
Sherlock stumbled backwards. "Don't move, I'm going to get you, okay, I promise!"
"How...touching." A smaller, nondescript man with short, dark hair and a trace of stubble came up behind the genius. He was dressed in a dark suit and had cold, steely brown eyes. "You really don't want to go any closer or he'll burn."
Sherlock turned to the man. "You! You give him back to me right now!" he commanded, stepping towards him.
Jim raised his hand, the palm glowing blue. "I really wouldn't if I were you."
Sherlock stopped in his tracks. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice almost breaking. Almost.
"Isn't it obvious? I want you, you stupid child."
Sherlock took a step back. "Sorry, off the market," he replied, smirking. John couldn't help but smile at that; the boy's back was to him, but he could imagine the smirk at the corner of his lips.
Jim shook his head. "Please, don't be so boring. If I'd wanted that, I wouldn't have bothered with your pet; I would've taken you myself. No, I mean I want your body, your mind if you want get into the specifics."
"Again, not available. I hope you didn't think I would just hand myself over."
"And what if your precious Johnny dies if you don't? What then?"
Sherlock glanced at John. He had promised he wouldn't play the hero...but he had also promised to protect his boyfriend, and now that it came down to it, it was very hard for him to make any other choice but saving the one he loved.
"Ahhh, that has you thinking, doesn't it? See, you wouldn't even have to be making this choice if you'd just left well enough alone as a child but no...you just had to run away with the Torchwood team."
John could see the wheels turning in Sherlock's head, and if it hadn't been for Jim's threat about what would happen to Sherlock if he spoke, he would've warned the boy.
"And what would have happened if I hadn't stayed with Torchwood then?"
"This would have all been over much sooner, especially since it was your big mouth that got your father murdered." Jim relished the look on Sherlock's face, the shock the flickered across it before he composed himself once more. "Didn't Jack tell you? He and his team tortured the man and then dissolved him with acid. My gateway to you, gone in an instant, and you were whisked off the next morning."
Sherlock felt slightly sick; he had never known what happened to his father until today. "That's-that's not true. That's not what happened."
"Oh, but it is. Those men came and bundled you away to the safety of a London street where it took me nine entire years to find you."
"Well if that was a mistake, it was the best one I ever made."
Jim shook his head. "So stubborn, so cheeky, even when your lover is in danger." He raised his hand until it glowed with the unearthly blue light again.
John gasped and whimpered as the circle on the ground beneath his feet began to glow, heating up fast. Sherlock turned and looked at the blonde, and then back at Jim. "No, please. Stop! Don't hurt him."
Jim clenched his fist, the light dying; the circle also ceased to glow. "You are my true body, Sherlock Holmes. The only mind in the world that can match mine, plenty of space in that large skull to hang around in, and since we are the same, the only person who could hold me."
Sherlock looked at the ground, eyes darting right and left as he tried to think of something. "I'll do it if, and only if, you let me talk to him first."
Jim grinned, feral and predatory. "Five minutes."
John gasped as the circle around his feet vanished, terrified it was another trick. Sherlock ran to him, crushing him in an embrace. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have let you go alone, I should have stayed with you."
John clutched at him, relief flooding his body. "It's not your fault. We'll figure something out."
"Five minutes, John. If we don't figure something out, I want you to promise you will take care of it."
John's grip tightened. "I will not kill you."
"Then somebody else has to if we can't figure it out, and then this can be over and nobody else is going to die on my account."
John felt tears start to burn his eyes, and he pulled back just enough to kiss Sherlock as hard as he could. "Water," he whispered into the boy's mouth.
Sherlock hummed in agreement. "But how much?"
"I-I don't know." John kissed Sherlock's cheek and hugged him tight again. "Could you fight him off if you had to? Shove him back out of your head?"
"I will try, I promise," he said, kissing John's forehead. "I will try, but if I do, you have to get out of here. He won't be happy about it."
John looked up, the sky completely clear; he knew Jack and Gwen wouldn't be of any help even if they could make it in time. "Sherlock, I'm not going to let you do this."
"John...it's too late. I love you." He kissed his lover gently. "See you on the other side."
"No, no Sherlock!" But the boy was blocking John from Jim whose grin made John furious.
"Have you decided then?" His hand was glowing a dangerous blue.
Sherlock gave John one last longing look before turning to Jim.
"I'll do it."
John's grip tightened on the boy's arm until he felt his hands begin to burn. He cried out, stumbling back.
Jim flew forward with inhuman speed, pressing his bright blue palm to skin just above Sherlock's heart. The boy screamed in pain, sinking to his knees as the touch burned through him. His body felt like it was on fire, burning endlessly. Through his tears of pain, John looked up at Jim, the smile on the man's face truly frightening. And then Sherlock sank to the ground and began screaming, and John tried to move forward, to help him, but Jim blasted him back. "Stay," he hissed.
Sherlock tried to fight it, pushing through the burning. He could see Jim's face in his mind, grinning at him. "Get out of my head!" he shouted. The creature cackled as he poured himself into the boy, finally inside Sherlock's head, and the cold, empty shell of Richard Brook, a young Irish lad, collapsed to the rooftop.
The young, pale boy fought it, pushing the thing trying to consume his mind away. His head felt like it was going to split in half as Jim forced images to the forefront: Being hit by his father...Captain John Hart forcing himself on him...John being hurt...John almost dying...John. He started to focus on the boy, knowing he had plenty of memories to draw on, good ones to help him push through.
The boy was fighting, so strong, so angry. Jim smiled, bombarding him with nightmares, the darkest days of his life, every terrible thing that had ever happened to him...
John watched Sherlock's normally blue eyes shift between piercing blue and blood red, the opposite nature sparking something in him. He stood, stumbling to his lover, his boyfriend, his Sherlock who was on the floor, head in his hands. "John..." he whimpered. His eyes flashed red and he screamed; he felt he was beginning to lose this battle, and he needed something to pull him through, something stronger to hold onto because Jim was starting to burn through his memories.
Blue...red...blue...red...water and fire! Without thinking, John took Sherlock's head in his hands and kissed the boy, hard, pulling out all the stops, applying every trick he'd ever learned, trying to drag the boy back to the front of his mind, turn those eyes ocean blue to stay. Sherlock kissed back, his eyes flickering quickly for a few moments. Suddenly they turned a deep blue, John flooding his mind like a ray of pure sunlight, bright enough to go towards, warm and loving enough to drive the diseased alien from his head. His face was contorted in paiin, but it was Sherlock, not Jim who embraced John and gave him everything he could. John didn't stop, but he kept his eyes open now, watching the blue solidify, turn nearly opaque. "I love you."
"I love you too." He let John be his only focus, casting Jim out of his thoughts.
Jim railed against the shutting doors in Sherlock's mind, casting out stronger and stronger fire to burn him into submission, but he could hear the ocean, and soon he saw those two, deep blue eyes meeting his red ones head on, and he lost control, flung out of the boy through the partially black handprint in his chest, scattering along the rooftop as clouds rolled in and dumped frigid rain down on Cardiff. Sherlock collapsed in John's arms, taking deep, slow, shaky breaths. "You did it," he gasped, his eyes fading to their normally icy color as the rain fell, cooling him as he held onto John, his anchor in the storm.
oOoOo
Gwen's phone went off as she lifted her second drink to her lips: the rift alarm. She nudged Jack. "Look at the location." It was right next to where Sherlock had been taken that first night.
Jack's eyes widened, all thoughts of Ianto somehow pushed aside for the moment. "Let's go," he said, paying for the drinks and running to the car.
Gwen followed Jack to the SUV, hopping in the driver's seat and speeding off towards the abandoned building. It had suddenly started raining, which she wasn't sure was a good sign. Jack bounced impatiently in the passenger seat, suddenly terrified of what they might find. If they were too late...They made it to the building after what seemed like ages, jumping out of the car and running inside. Jack tore up the stairs after Gwen, the pair finally bursting onto the roof.
oOoOo
John stared at Sherlock for a full thirty seconds before kissing him like a drowning man needing air, hugging him close, tears mixed with the rain. "You're here...you're alive...oh my god, Sherlock!"
The boy kissed back, clutching at John's jumper, needing the contact, the comfort. "I know...I promised you...I always keep my promises."
"I know...I was scared...I thought I was going to lose you." John never wanted to let go, never wanted to move; he didn't care that they were getting drenched on the rooftop and might catch cold.
Sherlock sat in John's arms, the head-splitting pain slowly ebbing away as the rain cooled his skin; John ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair, letting the rain soak them through and wash it clean. "You all right?"
"Just tired now...doesn't hurt so much anymore," Sherlock told him, looking up at Jack and Gwen as they burst onto the rooftop, giving them a faint smile. "Late to the party."
Gwen walked over. "What happened?"
"The last elemental," John said, glancing at the adults, still holding tight to his boyfriend even though he was starting to shake violently. Sherlock was weak enough as it was, trembling in John's arms, and both boys were beginning to feel the cold.
Gwen went over and knelt next to them in the puddle forming. "Are you hurt?"
"We were, but n-not anymore." John's teeth were chattering; the rain was like ice. "W-we n-n-n-eed t-to g-go ho-home."
Jack nodded and picked up Sherlock, carrying him carefully back out of the building, John and Gwen following. For once, Sherlock didn't protest; he thought if he tried to walk, his legs might collapse from under him. The only female in Torchwood followed, talking to John. "So what happened, like what really happened? What did it do?"
Jack carefully set the soggy, shivering boy in the backseat before taking his spot in the passenger seat.
"It was the fire elemental, said it wanted Sherlock, something about his mind being the only one that could support its life for very long. It told him about his father and claimed responsibility for everything that happened to Sherlock at his father's hand. Your guys relocating him only meant it took longer for the thing to find him."
Sherlock nodded, confirming what John said as Gwen got in the driver's seat. "So I guess it's lucky we found him, then. Otherwise this would have been a lot different."
John slid next to Sherlock, holding his quivering body and promising a steamy shower when they got home.
"I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner, Sherlock," Jack murmured as Gwen pulled away from the curb.
Sherlock agreed, curling close to John for warmth. "It's okay, bastard got everything he deserved," he said bitterly. Gwen nodded solemnly; it almost surprised her to hear him so cold and hateful, despite what he had been through.
John kissed his damp forehead, grateful that the car ride didn't last too long. He helped the boy up to their flat when they were dropped off, locking the door soundly behind him. "Head on into the shower. I'll be right there."
The younger boy nodded, peeling his clothes off and heading for the bathroom, heating up the water before stepping inside. John turned down the bed and set out their pajamas before heading in himself, stripping and joining Sherlock.
The taller boy kissed John lazily, washing his body and enjoying the hot water. "It's finally over."
John smiled into the kiss, letting the water warm him completely. He grabbed the shampoo and lathered it up, working it into Sherlock's hair. "Indeed."
Sherlock leaned into John's touch, letting him wash his hair. He wrapped his arms around John's waist, wanting nothing more than to just crawl into bed and cuddle up with the boy. John rinsed the soap out of Sherlock's hair, making short work of his own before scrubbing them both down, filling the room with so much steam that he almost couldn't see his lover. Sherlock grinned, leaning through the mist to kiss John's lips. "I can hardly see you."
John wrapped his arms around the boy's neck and kissed back, exploring Sherlock's mouth with his tongue and giggling. "I know. I can feelyou, though."
Sherlock's tongue danced around John's, chuckling breathily. "I feel you too," he purred, splaying his hands across John's back.
They stood there for a few more moments before the blonde turned the water off, kissing Sherlock a few more times before getting out of the tub, holding out a towel for the boy. "Come on. Let's get you dry and into bed."
Sherlock got out of the shower, taking the towel gratefully. "Sounds good."
John dried himself off, shaking the water from his hair and watching as Sherlock did the same. He took the boy's hand and led him from the bathroom to their bedroom, pulling on his pajamas and climbing into bed. Sherlock pulled on a pair of pants and crawled into bed, curling up with John. He pressed his ear to his lover's chest and listened to the boy's heartbeat. Alive...he's alive, he reminded himself. John tugged the covers up over them, letting their warmth and the blankets finally stop them shivering. He breathed in Sherlock's scent, kissing the top of his damp curls over and over. Alive, safe, together..."I would have followed," he murmured.
Sherlock looked up. "Please don't say that, John."
"But it's true. I can't bear the thought of living without you for a single second." He stroked Sherlock's cheek as he looked at the boy, memorizing his face. Sherlock shook his head. "Would you want me killing myself after you died? Please don't hurt yourself on my account."
"I wouldn't want you to be miserable. You saw how Jack was-how he is now that Ianto's gone."
"But he is still here, and he will get better, and he will be happy eventually and that's what Ianto would want and that's what I want for you."
John felt his eyes burn, unshed tears working their way to the surface. "I was terrified, the thought of having to live without you...you're my life. I can hardly remember a time when you weren't there for me."
"I know. I thought I was going to lose you tonight, and you've been the only good thing in my life. But you have to understand that killing yourself is not going to help anything," Sherlock said firmly, looking into John's eyes. "I want you to live a long happy life regardless of whether I get to live it with you or not."
"All right," John whispered. "I-I promise, Sherlock."
"Good." He leaned up and kissed John on the lips. "I love you."
John kissed him back, holding him tightly to his chest. "God, I love you too."
Sherlock lay there for a long time, kissing John, before he finally pulled away. "Tired?" He asked.
"A bit, sort of...no not really. You?"
"Somewhat," he replied, kissing John again. "But you know me."
"Mhmmm, I do," John smirked, deepening the kiss, his hands wandering down to cup his boyfriend's arse. Sherlock moaned softly against John's mouth as he felt the boy's hands wander downwards, wrapping his long skinny legs around John's waist. John's toes curled to hear Sherlock moan for him, using his leverage on the boy's arse to rock their hips together, purring Sherlock's name as they kissed. Sherlock moaned again, his hips bucking gently in response to the friction.
"God, John."
"Yes, oh fuck yes," John whimpered, rocking up harder, needing Sherlock more in this moment than he ever had before, desperate for this one last proof that they were alive and whole and safe and in love.
Sherlock reached for the hem of John's pajama shirt, tugging on it. He needed this too, needed to know that they were here. John broke the kiss, ripping the shirt off before claiming Sherlock's mouth again, tongues dancing and stroking each other as they continue grinding. Sherlock was making soft whimpering noises into John's mouth, rolling his hips against John's needily.
"What do you want?" the smaller boy panted, pulling back to look into Sherlock's eyes. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want you to show me that we're alive."
John kissed him harder, rolling them over and pulling off Sherlock's pants as he snatched the lube from the side table. Sucking on Sherlock's lip, he slicked up his fingers and began prepping the boy. Sherlock groaned, running his long fingers through John's hair as he stretched him.
John worked faster than he normally did, needing Sherlock desperately, the boy's fingers in his hair making him purr and growl. The younger boy loved the noises coming from his lover's throat; he tilted his head backwards, exposing his neck to John.
With a hiss, John nipped and sucked the bare skin, trailing his teeth along the pulse there before biting gently and running his tongue back over the marks, finally withdrawing his fingers and slicking himself up. Sherlock made sure he was in a comfortable position, legs spread to make it easier for his lover.
With a low moan, John pressed into Sherlock, whispering the boy's name over and over as he peppered his throat and jaw with kisses, sucking his earlobe. Sherlock gasped John's name as the boy entered him, his eyelids fluttering. "Oh god, don't stop," he panted.
John smirked, kissing his cheek sloppily. "I don't intend to," he whispered before pulling out and thrusting back in, still slow, the same rhythm as when they had been grinding before. Sherlock moaned, enjoying the slow, tender pace; it made every movement so much more passionate and loving. He put his hands on John's shoulders, slowly moving his hips in time with John's.
The blonde boy whimpered softly, moving his head so he could look into Sherlock's blue eyes, could lose himself in the boy. "You're beautiful and amazing and tight-" He shuddered slightly on the last word as he ground against Sherlock's prostate.
Sherlock's head fell back, calling out John's name. "Oh my god... John..."
John did it again, circling his hips in a move he'd read about but hadn't tried before; Sherlock melted, moaning loudly. "Ah! Oh god... J-john!" he stammered, finding it hard to think straight.
John grinned, repeating it harder, leaning in and kissing the boy, swallowing his moans and cries of joy. Sherlock kissed back, noises of pleasure vibrating from his throat as John repeated the move that was driving him crazy. Reaching down, he stroked Sherlock's arousal, pulling the boy over the edge, desperate to hear him come.
"Oh god, John!" he shouted, his orgasm rocking his whole body as he came.
John drove into his shuddering hole, crying "Sherlock!" as he came, shuddering and trembling.
Sherlock rode it out, his head dropping back against the pillows when he finished. "You...are...brilliant."
John chuckled weakly, fumbling for their towel and cleaning them up, snuggling against Sherlock's chest. "Why thank you."
Sherlock smiled. "Night, love," he whispered, kissing the top of John's head.
"Goodnight, Sherlock," John murmured, pressing a kiss to the boy's chest before falling asleep, safe, warm, loved, and together.
There is an epilogue to come. Thank you all for following and reading. It will be up within a week...I hope. ;)