sherlock, lord of the rings, doctor who, supernatural, once upon a time, atla/lok, homestuck, &more.
The dropping of the mobile onto wood echoed throughout 221b, shattering the dusty silence. Following was the depression of the leather chair as it caught John Watson’s weak-kneed collapse. He could still see the light of his phone and the white text that sent his day into a whirlwind. Not only that, but the number on the phone, and the contact identified, sent him reeling into a deep, sad nostalgia he thought he had defeated.
The soldier took in slow breaths and forced his mind to halt. He begged himself to remain rational, to not get his hopes up. He had learned his lesson after three years of waiting. Why now? Why would he get a text now? John’s hands held his temples. His tired, listless eyes shut tight as his breaths began to shake. He’d almost wished he hadn’t read the text at all.
Soft noise outside the door alarmed him. He quickly jolted up from the chair and spun to face the stairwell. There hadn’t even been a knock. It simply sounded like brushing on the door; a presence he merely felt. John figured he was over-reacting, or perhaps hallucinating. To quell his curiosity, and to kill the damned hope in his stomach, however, he quietly paced to the doorframe and headed down the stairs.
John only made it halfway down when a slow silhouette overtook the door’s window. He drew in a sharp breath as though he had been hit and watched, still as death, as a tall, lean figure reached and brushed thin fingers against the window, as if greeting an old friend. Though the shadow lacked detail, John saw enough to make the hope pitted in his gut fly rampant. The curly hair, the details of the coat, the slenderness of the man’s fingers - all timed with the text he’d just received. He nearly stumbled against the wall, feeling weak once more. Was he losing his mind? Or was it all really happening as he’d dreamed it would?
There was only one way he would know. John inhaled another shaking breath and shifted away from the wall. He straightened his back and gave a short exhale before his feet carried him the rest of the way down. At the door, his fingers brushed the doorknob, a hesitant caress. He watched as the other man’s hand fell in the same direction on the opposite side, as if their hands were touching. John’s eyes fluttered shut. He imagined they were. In silence, he prayed to whatever god or fate there was that there was going to be someone on the other side; someone he’d been waiting for for three years.
From upstairs, the phone remained lit and the text message remained open, its letters seen by no one. The door to 221b creaked open slowly. A breathless greeting was exchanged between friends; a long-waited reunion three years in the making. John’s sob of his best friend’s name drifted into the flat as he rushed to embrace him.
The phone dimmed in time as the message, and John’s wish, came true.
I’m home. - SH