Playing With Fire

AN - set in the magic!John AU (See The Writing on the Wall)

It wasn't every day that you came home to find John Watson in the front room, playing with fire. Not the kind of fire that meant matches or candles or standard combustion, but the kind of fire that was purple, floating in the air around him in long trails.

It was even more disturbing when you'd locked your front door this morning on the way to dropping your missus off for a girl's weekend with some old school mates. The fact that John didn't live in this house and had no reason to be here was also a cause for concern. Geoff was sure he'd locked the front door - it wasn't a mistake that a copper made - and he knew that John didn't have a key; few people did.

The fire was kind of beautiful and John's face was calmly intent as he moved around the front room in a kind of dance. If Geoff had to put the movements to music, it would have been cello and violin twined around each other in restless rhythm. John twirled and spun, placing each foot with especial care, ducking and weaving through the room with a thoroughness that spoke of a very particular intent. Geoff stood there, takeaway in hand, watching as Sherlock Holmes' lover-keeper-minder-friend danced around the comfortably worn furniture he and his wife had bought years ago. The purple fire was warm as it wafted past him, reflected in John's unseeing eyes, crackling the way a really good log fire does on a winter's day.

And then it was over. John's movements slowed and stopped. Now that he was still, Geoff realised that the doctor was breathing quite hard and soaked in sweat. The fire burned in a floating ring around him before John took a deeply sucking breath and it rushed into him, disappearing. The Mage of London - and that was who Geoff was dealing with here, not comfortable John Watson - shuddered and then straightened once more. Geoff judged that now might be a good time to announce his presence and cleared his throat gently.

"What the hell are you doing?" the question was mild and calm (something he was quite proud of) but John still jumped as if he'd shouted.

"Er... nothing," John's voice was weaker than Geoff would have liked to hear and the way the man was swaying on the spot boded ill for the upcoming conversation. Geoff stepped forward, intending to offer support but John jolted back and turned, bolting for the window faster than DI Lestrade would have thought possible. He was through it in a flash and over the fence and down the road before Geoff could get to his front door.

It wasn't until he got back to the front room that Geoff realised the window was shut.

To be continued? Let me know!

Disclaimer - characters and setting as depicted in the BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.