The 7th Circle
I.
The curtain fell. The sun rose. The show began.
Suicide at Westminster Abby. Fire in Oxford Street. And a man in a record store.
A hanged man swinging before those large windows, white curtains behind the blurring glass. The note said: Falling is just like flying. So, if I cannot fly, I shall fall.
The fire killed five people. Two children, two women, one man.
The papers wrote it was tragic and shocking and horrible. But, oh, they were wrong.
It was a love letter.
Jim smiled as the owner of the store put on a vinyl and watched him as he sung along with a low voice.
"The age of innocence has abandoned me for a while", he sung. Jim came closer.
A few days later he received a vinyl of Staying Alive and a short note that said: Isn't it boring?
It was an invitation. And not hard finding out where to go.
"And o' the pain you will cause me, can't compare with the bliss of knowing your murderous smile", the man continued, slightly out of tune. Then looking up at him.
"Oh dear", Jim said, "never thought you had a taste for eighties music."
"I don't", answered Sherlock.
They looked at each other, he could see his reflection in Sherlock's cold blue eyes. They kept silent for another heart beat. Sherlock wore his usual trousers, an old black shirt and his scarf. Oh what would Sherlock Holmes do without his scarf!
Jim trembled, but only a bit.
"I missed you", he said low, stretching the syllables in his Irish accent. He turned around slowly, moving his head to the side so he could still see Sherlock.
"Thought you might do the first move."
As the other did not respond he turned around again, stepping closer to him. Sherlock looked down to him, his face motionless. In the background the song continued: "Guilty of filth I share, in your pleasure. Neither awake nor alive, in your bosom where I would kill even myself."
"Oh that was a nice line, don't you think, darling? 'Where I would kill even myself', very nice indeed. It occurs to me you chose that song! Well that's an improvement." The last sentence he spoke in a high pitched voice. His eyes opened a bit more and a smile spread across his lips.
"Don't flatter yourself", Sherlock replied chuntering. "I knew you knew."
"Changing the subject m'dear? Well, of course you knew I wasn't all lying dead with a bullet in my brilliant brain. But you didn't know I knew that you'd fake it."
"I did know", he said.
"Liar", Jim hummed.
"Don't –"
"Getting angry? Oh, can we just skip that part?"
"What do you want?"
"I? You invited me. Come on, do what you do best. Think. What do you want, Sherlock Holmes?"
Sherlock looked around, but apparently no-one else was in any longer, so no-one could have heard this.
"I want to see you in chains, I want you punished, I –" Jim twisted his mouth.
"Again you lie. Did your mother not taught you good behaviour?"
Sherlock did not reply.
"Well, make your mind up, I shall go", he said, turned around and went to the door. Just as he was about to open it, Sherlock said: "Turn the sign. Closed."
Jim grinned. The song ended. Silence.
"Come back here", said Sherlock sharply and Jim did as he commanded.
"So, let's try it again, honey, what do you want?"
This time it was Sherlock's part to move closer. Hot breath on his face.
"I am here because you forced me to. Now I shall show you what's it like to shake hands with me in hell."
"Is that a promise?", Jim whispered.
"It is."
The barely lit room seemed to engulf them. The sun behind the windows was a red fire ball, the clouds on fire, black ash in the sky.
You don't know how to go on. You're afraid. Afraid of what you want. Because you do know, since our conversation on the roof. You do know.
He did not say it. But he was sure Sherlock could read his thoughts just as they infiltrated his mind, as the bliss of this knowledge filled his gaze again. He can hardly breathe, he can hardly move. He was in ecstasy. The only difference between them was, he enjoyed the ecstasy and Sherlock dreaded it.
"Don't be afraid. We were made for each other."
"So you said before."
Jim knew that Sherlock knew he would kill all of them. No matter whether he kill him first, all was set in motion. He could not stop it before it was too late.
"You know I don't want to force you." Jim, suddenly tender.
"Yes you do."
"I DON'T!", he screamed and turned around abruptly.
"Our game may continue. If you leave them out of it", said Sherlock. His voice was slightly shaking.
"All you wish, my darling", Jim said low, stretching the syllables again. Then he can feel Sherlock's breath in his neck. He can feel the warmth of his body not an inch away.
"So here we are again… Sher-lock", Jim said in a sing-song voice, a shiver running down his spine.
"Only the two of us. Believe me, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you." He turned around and looked up into Sherlock's icy blue eyes, filled with greed and fear and lust.
The song Sherlock sings along with is "The Loving Face" by Christian Death
