Risen from death (Moriarty's return)

The Ghillie Dhu

John slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the bright purple light. His gaze ran around the forest glade, which he recognized immediately as the one when he joined other werewolves in London during the full moon's nights. His head was about to explode, and he felt like he had been knocked down by a war tank. He was in his human form again.

He sighed, relieved. The purple light meant they were under a spell that prevented magical and supernatural creatures from being seen by human eyes. Werewolves weren't able to perform the spell, but creatures as the Ghillie Dhu, sat next to him, was.

John watched how the forest's spirit rubbed the darts wounds of Sherlock's right arm, healing tissues and skin, magically making them disappear, curing the detective, who had fallen asleep at his side.

The doctor frowned while realizing how much weight Sherlock seemed to have lost. His former tight shirt was almost loose, and by the dark bags under his eyes, John can swear the detective barely had slept in the time it took John to heal. He sighed. He had lost count of all the lectures he had to give Sherlock.

"He hasn't moved from your side, caring for you at all times," said the Ghillie Dhu. His voice, like the sound of the wind whispering over the poplar's leaves, denoted amazement. "It's not usual for a human to love one of us so deeply."

"He is not usual," John smiled fondly. The spirit nodded, his long and dark hair swaying with his head.

"I realized it. When he regained consciousness, he wasn't scared when he saw me at your side. He was curious. And very protective".

"I hope he didn't give you a hard time. He can be... quite annoying sometimes".

The spirit laughed with the sound of the stream water running through the rocks.

"And stubborn" John rolled his eyes. "Even wounded and heartbroken, he only let take care of you when he was sure I wasn't going to hurt you. He didn't allow me to heal him until I finished with you, even though he had to be in great pain. In fact, I had to cast a sleeping spell on him to heal him", he chuckled, rubbing his fingers over any of the remaining slots on Sherlock's skin.

John smiled amused.

"Will you teach me to do that? It would be beneficial, being able to make him sleep whenever I want to".

The spirit smiled back, his smile as the sunset light.

"I'm sure about it."

"And Mycroft?"

"He does well. He has slept almost the whole time, thanks to my spell".

"And what about Moriarty? Would he be able to come back?"

"Evilness always finds a way to enter in the human's world. Fortunately, there are people like both of you, willing to fight it".

Mycroft, lying next to Sherlock, muttered in his sleep.

"Time for me to go. They'll wake soon. I'll give you a signal once it's time for you to go".

"I don't know how to thank you for all you did for us."

"You already did. Moriarty's back would have not only impacted the human world, but also the supernatural one. The eternal balance between good and evil would have been broken. So it's me who has to thank all of you".

"It's a tie, then."

The spirit nodded, slowly dissolving in the air, as Mycroft opened his eyes.

"Mycroft, I'm going to kill you," John grunted, "How on earth did you calculate the dose?"

"To the eye," replied the British Government.