When John is created, he awakes to light.
The light is so bright and overwhelming that, even when he closes his eyes, there is no relief from the sheer power of it. He knows instinctively that the light is that of his father. He doesn't have to be told. He doesn't have to be told a lot of things. The information is already there, nestled into his mind.
John knows.
"Hello there."
The voice is warm, soothing and said with a smile. John returns the smile immediately. The voice of his father is calm, collected and genuinely excited about his new creation. John relishes his father's happiness and he knows now that there will be no greater joy in his life than to make his father happy.
"Hello." John says slowly, testing out his new voice. It doesn't sound strange because he knows that it's his own, but it's still different. He repeats the word again trying to make it sound different. He wonders how many different ways he can say just that one word. He smiles because he knows the possibilities could be endless.
He hears his father's laugh.
"It's wonderful to finally meet you, John."
His name is John.
The words are said with the softest voice and another smile. His father is genuinely pleased to have created him, and John's heart stirs at the thought. His father loves him, and he knows this to be true. He also knows that every word his father says is the truth, it's his nature. John commits the voice to memory knowing that he will never hear another voice like this one. It's soft and smooth, but distinct and different. It's the voice that belongs solely to his father.
"It's nice to meet you as well, father."
He likes words. There are so many of them and so many different ways to say them. He knows he will enjoy saying words for a very long time.
John finally opens his eyes to look at his father, but he doesn't see him. Still just a blinding light that surrounds him and casts itself onto everything. It seems infinite. The light goes and goes in every direction and never seems to end. John wonders what it would be like to just walk and see how far the light goes.
He only lets the light distract him for a moment when he catches a glimpse of himself. Well, he sees his hands. They are a small but sturdy and lightly tanned. He stares at his fingernails for a bit laughing because he doesn't see much of a use for them, but his father must have put them there for a reason. He has four fingers and thumb on each hand, and he wiggles them in front of his face like a child. John finds it amazing that his fingers seem to move of their own will, but he knows that they are doing what he is telling them to do before he tells them to do it. It's amazing and confusing all at once. He smiles.
John suddenly notices a presence next to him. He looks over to find a young man who is unremarkable in every way, but has kind, dark eyes and a bright smile. He knows without a doubt that this is his father. He is someone who can change at will, and this is the image his has chosen for himself to show to John.
"Come walk with me," his father says with a smile as he takes John's hand and helps him to stand. They begin a slow walk into the light that seems to go on infinitely. His father's presence is comforting as they enter into a world John has never been. It seems to appear out of nowhere, and suddenly his brothers and sisters are everywhere, rushing back and forth, hurriedly stopping to give each other information and stories. It takes John's breath away. There are so many of them.
"Will I be here?" he asks his father curiously. He's not quite sure what's going on or what everyone is doing, but it looks busy and exciting and John wants to jump right into everything.
"Sometimes," his father says steadily. "I have a lot planned for you, John, and not all of it will be here, most of the time you will be working on Earth."
Earth. That is the planet on which his human creations live on. He loves them very much as well. John knows this, it's part of the information that is stored neatly into his mind. He wonders why he will be working there. There are lots of his brothers and sisters here, and he wonders how many more of them will be on Earth with him. His father says he has a lot planned for him. He hopes it's exciting work. Dangerous work even.
"Oh, it's definitely exciting," his father says with a smile. "You are a Virtues, John. It's the type of angel that I designed you to be. You take and give out orders to some of your other siblings; you convert the orders into miracles for your human assignment. I've designed you specifically to be a healer. Some of your other Virtues siblings have different concentrations, like musicians, artists, scientists, and, of course, other healers."
That did sound exciting. A healer! It seemed natural for him. He couldn't imagine being an artist or musician, it wasn't something that seemed to fit him, but a healer was perfect. They walked along past more of his brothers and sisters. They all looked different, like humans, except for the wings. Everyone's wings were different shapes and sizes, but some were similar, and John wondered if wings were specific to types of angels and the jobs that they held.
"Most of the time you will be working on Earth. Sometimes you will be in your natural form, and sometimes you will be disguised as a human in the form of a doctor or nurse, or anything else that fits the situation and assignment. You will always be in a position where you won't stand out to anyone besides your brothers and sisters that may be around."
John nodded. He couldn't wait to get started. What his father had planned for him sounded perfect. He was a leader, receiving and sending orders to his siblings, and a healer, healing those that he was assigned to. His father created him for these purposes, and also created him with a love for these things. He would enjoy his assignments; enjoy his work and the siblings he worked with.
He knew without a doubt that he wouldn't ever need anything more than this.
His father really should have told him otherwise.
John would finally get his first assignment after a few weeks of following around another healer. He had learned a lot in his training from the older angel. He learned that every person was different. Every case was different. Sometimes they were hard. Sometimes they were easy. Each assignment was different from the one before it. He had been able to disguise himself as a human a few times now, and found it thrilling to catch his reflection in a panel of glass or a well-placed mirror. He always looked the same, short but sturdy, with ashy blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He wondered if he looked like that to everyone.
The most important thing he learned when he was training was that sometimes they weren't the only one assigned to a human. Sometimes others were assigned to humans as well, but they were not angels. They were demons. They were foul creatures that would work directly against you. Sometimes face to face. Power against power. And sometimes you don't win. John hadn't encountered any demons during his training, but both his trainer and father warned him that it would happen, and that he needed to be prepared for it.
John spent the weeks when he wasn't on earth learning about the different sicknesses and diseases. He had to learn how to manipulate the body to heal itself. It wasn't just a touch that healed humans. Only his father could do that. Angels had to know the human body and its workings to be able to carefully manipulate cells and organs to do their job better or faster. Sometimes he needed to know how to shut down specific parts of the body all together.
John was intent on being the best he could be. He kept his father's voice in the back of his mind, constantly reminding him that he had great things ahead of him, that he needed to be the best to be prepared for those things. He knew he would be on his own soon. Angels didn't train for very long, just the basics before they were put to work. That was mostly because his father didn't make new angels very often. Sometimes he wanted to ask his father why he created John at all. What possessed him to make John the angel that he was, an angel that desired to be a leader and a healer? Why did he make an angel that thrived off of excitement and dangerous situations? None of his brothers and sisters were like that.
It was no secret that he was just a bit different than the other angels. Not a bad different, but just different. They were full of peace and love, and of course John was too, but he had a bit of an edge to him that none of the others did. They accepted their assignments with gratefulness and solemn attitudes as they went to heal those who were sick and dying. John actively sought out the most difficult cases, often in the most hectic surroundings, although his trainer was never assigned to those types of assignments, and John secretly wondered how he'd be able to get those cases once he was on his own. He thrived off of the fast pace and difficult. It made things exciting.
John was finally cornered by his father towards the end of his training.
"I have heard that your training is coming to an end."
John hadn't been expecting to see his father. He was usually very busy, and assignments were given by angels even higher up than he was. One thing he learned was that you didn't climb ranks as an angel; you were simply created for your position. His father usually didn't make appearances to angels of John's rank, not unless something was wrong. So for his father to appear at the end of his training was quite a surprise, a good one though. He was always happy to see his father, just as any of his brothers and sisters were.
His father appeared in the same image John had seen last time; just a plain young man with the dark, kind eyes and the bright smile. It felt good to see his father smile.
"Yes, sir. I'll be given my own assignments very soon."
His father looks at him with eager eyes, swaying his hands as they walk down past the lines of angels running about. John notices when his eyes take an almost painful expression, as if he's reading information that's coming to him directly in a way that John can't see.
"Your first assignment is now."
John's head snaps towards his father at the sound of his voice. It was so sudden and sharp. An unexpected event that has everything turned into the air. It's almost dizzying how the emotions turned from one end of the spectrum into the other at whatever new information his father just received.
"Now, sir?" John asks hesitantly. It's not really in his place to question his father. It's not anyone's place at all, but John can't help the surge of worry that comes into his voice. He is a brand new angel and has never had his own assignment. Of course his father knows this, but the look on his face… John reviews the look in his head over and over trying to understand. It's not a fear, not exactly. His father's face had contorted in on itself, his eyebrows knit together, and his lips had thinned out into a grimace. It's obvious to John that it is something of concern as his father's body tightens and straightens, as if ready for war.
"Yes, John. Right now." His father's voice has slipped into a thoughtful tone, solemn, concerned. So many emotions ripped through the few words that it's hard to understand which emotion to latch on to and try to understand.
"What is it sir?" He's almost afraid to ask. There are few things that could cause these kinds of emotions in his father, and John's only heard rumors about them, whispers. Nothing concrete, and nothing recent. He has nothing to go on, but he knows that there is a serious situation about to be put on his shoulders. He can't help but be nervous.
"Sherlock-"
The name slips off of his father's tongue as if it was an accident. The name is gently caressed with the voice of his father, but John knows it has no reason to be. If John could curse he would. Sherlock.
The name sent fear into a good bit of the angels. If humans only knew, they would tremble at his very name. He was the opposite of John in every way.
Demon.
He calls himself a scientist, and, in many senses of the word, John could almost see how it fits.
John heals.
Sherlock destroys.
But not in a fire and brimstone way.
He creates diseases, sicknesses, famine and drugs. He has left entire villages and cities dead in his wake. He is unmerciful and unforgiving.
From what John has heard and read, it is known that Sherlock answers to no one. He is praised by his subordinates and superiors because of the sheer chaos and destruction that he is able to cause by his creations. He always starts with one person. It's never the same type of person, because Sherlock apparently doesn't have a preference, but he usually picks someone that is seen and heard, someone that will spread absolute panic along with the disease itself.
There is no other demon like him.
Sherlock is a force of nature, and John is about to have to take him head on.