Hello, and welcome to my first crossover fic! Firstly, to everyone who follows my other stories, I'm so sorry on the wait, but I am getting serious writers block, and every time I go to watch Merlin for inspiration I just cry. So this short story is a way of triggering my creativity and hopefully unclogging my mind. This fic is practically complete, only one more chapter to go, and is going to be 7 chapters long hopefully, with each chapter being just over 1000 words each. I will be updating on Fridays or Saturdays, depending on work and school. Before you begin reading this, you will need some background information. This story is set in an AU Season 3 of Sherlock, two weeks after Sherlock returned to 221B Baker Street and revealed to John he is alive. Unfortunately for Sherlock, John isn't going to let him off so easily. The scene is set, so enjoy reading.
P.S. This story will be neither Johnlock or Merthur, but just some awesome bromance. Also, if you get confused by the ages, at the bottom of the first chapter will be a timeline with each characters ages at key points in their lives
I will begin updating this story in September, however here is the first chapter as a sort of sneak preview. Read and review!
THE GAME WE PLAY
Tension had been high between Sherlock and John ever since Sherlock had returned from his supposed demise. John was firmly ignoring Sherlock much to the detective's irritation, as it meant no phone lending, no helping on cases and no conversation between the two of them. This lack of communication was made obvious when Mycroft sent around a car to collect the pair, John sat on the seat opposite to Sherlock, his gaze firmly fixed on the scenery outside the window. Anthea, who was sat next to John, glanced up from her phone and sighed.
"Had a lover's spat have we?"
John's face wrinkled in annoyance, although his gaze did not stray from the window.
"For the record, I am not gay. And if I was gay, which I am not, I would not go out with such an egotistical selfish childish prat like the man sat opposite you."
"Why thank you for that glowing opinion John, I can see you hold a very high opinion of me," Sherlock muttered, before silence befell the car once again.
But not for long.
John turned to face Sherlock, anger slowly colouring his face a light pink. "Just for the record Sherlock, did you even once consider apologising to me?"
"Apologising implies that I did something wrong John. Did I do something wrong?"
"Did you-" John's fists clenched as he desperately tried not to punch the man in front of him, his arms trembling at the effort. "Did you do something wrong? Well, let me think. Hmmm. How about when you jumped off of a building to kill yourself? What about when you let me believe you were dead for two years? How about when you stormed back into my life, which by the way I had only just rebuilt, expecting everything to be exactly the same as it was when you left, when clearly it isn't!"
Silence fell again, then –
"You're upset with me aren't you?
John finally lost it. "Oh no, I'm not mad at you Sherlock, this is my happy face! Of course I'm angry! You let me suffer for two whole years, not understanding why you jumped, when all it would take is just one phone call to let me know you were alive and well! Not to mention that when you came back, you just waltzed back in, not caring that you were practically torturing me psychologically! And you're still not sorry are you!"
Sherlock looked shocked at the sudden outburst from his usually mild tempered roommate. Said doctor continued to glare at the detective, before he sighed and resumed looking out the window.
By the time the car finally reached its destination, John was alternating between glaring daggers at Sherlock and ignoring him entirely. Anthea gestured for the pair to exit the car, before closing the door and driving off. A waiter then ushered the pair towards a large country club house, wherein Mycroft was sat on a chair sipping a cup of tea.
"Ah, brother, I see you've finally returned from the dead."
"Wait, you mean you knew that Sherlock was alive and you didn't tell me?" John angrily demanded.
"It's lovely to see you too John," Mycroft replied. "Of course I knew Sherlock was alive, did you really think he was clever enough to come up with this whole scheme? Or have the resources to do so?"
John looked ready to pick up another argument, before Mycroft interrupted him.
"I have called you here because Moriarty has sent Sherlock a message. He-"
"Wait, so Moriarty is alive as well! When were you two planning on telling me that!"
"I just did John. Now, please be quiet, you're making it hard to think," replied Mycroft curtly.
Sherlock smirked smugly at the affronted look on John's face. He then turned to Mycroft. "What does Moriarty want this time?"
"Why don't you read the note and find out for yourself."
Sherlock picked up the piece of card, which he then flipped around in his hands.
"This is cotton paper, the type of cotton used to make this appears to be Gossypium arboretum, a plant native to India and Pakistan. However the ink, which has been written in calligraphy, is Quink which comes from the brand Parker, which is originally from the UK. It is therefore clear that Moriarty moved from a safe house in India to the UK long enough to collect the ink and send the message before moving on, most likely to pick up some more paper from India, although judging by the cracks running along the ink this was written over 72 hours ago and so it is more than likely he has moved on from India to an alternative safe house."
John sighed. He had forgotten how much he'd missed his friend's witty deductions, and it hurt him like a knife that it had been over 2 years since he'd heard those remarks.
"Sherlock, we know that Moriarty is out of the country just read the message itself."
Sherlock glanced down at the note, before doing the last thing John would have expected. He threw the note on the table before grabbing Mycroft by the collar.
"Please tell me you got there in time, you better have gotten there on time!"
"Relax Sherlock, he's fine, in fact I'm having him brought here as we speak."
"I'm sorry but what are you two talking about?" John asked. When neither of them answered, both of them too busy glaring at one another, the doctor walked over and picked up the note.
My Darling Sherly,
It's been a while, but don't worry, I'm still here. Now I've been feeling a little bit lonely as of recent, so I thought I'd do a bit of light reading, when I stumbled across something very interesting. I feel like I better brush up on my Arthurian legend, if I'm going to meet the warlock himself. I know you two had a close relationship, perhaps the three of us could get together sometime. You can call me, I know you have my number.
"What does he mean 'the warlock himself'? How do you know this person?"
Before either brother could answer him, a door slammed outside the house, followed by the sounds of yelling and screeching, before the door slammed open. The first person to enter had blonde hair and was sporting a large purple bruise on his forehead. John took note of the confusion in his eyes and decided it was likely due to concussion, which was supported by the fact he was leaning heavily on Anthea. However it was the second person to enter who really caught John attention. The lanky teenager who was being held up by one of Mycroft's bodyguards was screaming and kicking, causing his raven hair to fall into his crystal blue eyes, which were creased with anguish. But what John really noticed was the fact that the boy before him looked the spit of a young Sherlock.
The teenager bit the wrist of the larger man, causing him to drop him with a yelp. The teenager turned to face Mycroft.
"What the hell Mikey, I was in the middle of a lecture when this clotpole grabs me and kidnapped me, plus he knocked out Arthur which meant he came along too! If you wanted to talk to me couldn't you just have called! And- Sherly?
"Hello Merlin, so nice of you to join us," Mycroft greeted him, but Merlin seemed in too much shock to notice.
"Sherlock? But how- you were dead? But you are dead! I saw you die! You did die! I-"
And with that Merlin collapsed in a dead faint.
So what do you think? Should I post the rest? You decide!