SHERLOCK; imagines

WHEN ITS OVER; m.holmes

PROMPTS - ww2 au + 9. "end of the war" kiss + "i love you and i couldn't imagine a life without you." +

A/N - hello! another mycroft fic woop woop! i've been wanting to write this for a while even if it is just a modge podge of random prompts and ideas. i just hope you all enjoy and if you do please like or reblog or comment. my last lindir fic flopped really freaking hard and it kind of makes me sad because i spent 3+ hours on that fic so that i could give you all some new content. please don't let my smol sweetheart mycroft flop. please? also the gif isn't mine, its from wattpad, i don't remember where. credits to the editor

WARNINGS - mentions of war i guess

WORDS - ~2000

The low hanging clouds remained ever constant as the scenery outside the rattling train changed from rolling green hills with the occasional village to the bustling city of London. The train kept nearing the station, the survivors kept living, the rubble kept crumbling. The city would suffer and lament its losses, but it would endure just as I had.

I had been a nurse during the war, caring and treating the salvageable and the doomed victims alike. And all the while I sat wrapping bloodied appendages in gauze and apply antibacterial salves, I thought of him.

I thought of the man who looked absolutely ravishing with his side swept curls of russet and his soft sprinkling of freckles. The man who could bend his enemies' will to match his own with nothing more than a look but who could also comfort me with sweet words spoken in his hushed and poshly-accented voice. The man whose tall form and welcoming embrace smelled of clean tweed, old sweaters with a note of expensive cologne, aftershave and the warmth of a hot cup of earl grey. The man who gave me his heart and who in return cared for mine with all the world's delicacy and sweetness. Mycroft Holmes, my fiance, who I had left behind at the beginning of the war.

He had proposed to me two months before the war when I had no clue I would be sent to the fields and the clinics to care for England's wounded soldiers.
Looking down at the thin and simple but elegant band around my finger, memories of the calm afternoon drive to the countryside, the warmth of the sun and the happiness that had overwhelmed my heart and soul in a singular, blissful moment ran through my head.

I hadn't seen Mycroft since the beginning of the war. I hadn't seen him for 5 years. 5 whole years. We had written back and forth when we had found the time, and in fact I still had the bundle of wax-sealed letters written in curling, elegant script in my bag, but unfortunately, we had found ourselves occupying busy and stressful jobs: him being a high-ranking government official and me being, well, gone. The war had split us apart, but my love for Mycroft was what kept me going each and every day filled with wailing and crying people, newly-orphaned children, and the other casualties of war.

I just hoped he hadn't moved on, hadn't found someone to replace me in my absence. Although, I could hardly blame him if he had.

These thoughts swam around my head as the train finally pulled into the bustling station, steam from the train's engine billowing up and fogging the windows that made up the high, vaulted ceilings.

After gathering my belongings, I made my way to the exit at the end of the train car I had shared with countless others returning from where ever the war had scattered them. And as I stepped out of the car, the calling of names and the whistling of the train and the crying of London's people instantly flooded my senses.

Anxiety bubbled in my chest, constricting my throat as my nervousness grew. What if Mycroft didn't bother to show? What if he had found someone prettier and moved on? What if the war truly had come between us?

And then from across the bustling mass of people, I see him standing near one of the tall stone supports that reach to the ceiling like flowers to the sun.
I began to fight my way through the crowd, while the thought of his name echoing through every facet of my mind. And when I had finally made my way through the majority of the crowd, I stopped, a small gasp leaving my mouth at the sight of him.