"I believe in you, Sherlock." John whispered to himself, as a tear slid down to his cheek. He had his feet pulled up on the armchair, his chin resting on his knees. Sherlock's dressing gown was draped around his shoulders.
It had been a month since Sherlock's death. For everyone else around him, life had resumed as usual. But John couldn't; he needed Sherlock. It was Sherlock who fixed him, and Sherlock who'd kept him feeling alive. Now, he just felt trapped.
The room at 221B was quiet. Quiet and messy. There was a thick layer of dust on just about every surface, and trays of cold tea and food that Mrs. Hudson had brought John to eat. While he sat silently on the armchair, his therapist left the room; John never knowing she'd been there in the first place.
"Mrs Hudson?"
Answering her call, the woman appeared, holding a tray with a handful of biscuits, two mugs and a pot of tea.
"Just through here, dear."
They sat down in the landlady's flat, each taking a polite sip of tea before their conversation began.
"So?"
"You were right to call; his condition has gotten severely worse since I saw him last."
"Is there anything you can do?"
She shook her head.
"Not in this case. Just time. The only thing you can do is to make sure he eats; look after his health."
Mrs Hudson nodded.
"Well, thanks for coming."
John opened his eyes to see the whole room covered in light. He was still in the armchair; it was unusual for him to move out of it these days. Besides when he did, he slept in Sherlock's room. John shifted his position, trying to make himself more comfortable, when he spotted something in the corner of the room. He turned round; spotting one of the people he least wanted to see.
"Hello, John." Mycroft smiled as he stepped into the light.
"Mycroft. Not wanting to be rude or anything, but I'm not really in the mood."
"You never are, John. Not anymore."
"Look, what's happened has happened- Sherlock's dead. He's gone. I can never see him again. But just give me some time to deal with it. You know how I felt about him."
"No."
"What?"
"He's not gone. Not yet, at least. I- I think I've found a way to bring him back."
John jumped up out of the chair.
"How?"
"Well… I don't know if it will work…" He trailed off. John walked up to Mycroft, pressing him into the wall.
"We've got to try anything. Anything at all. It'll be worth it, to save Sherlock." His face was contorted with pain. "Please, Mycroft."
"OK."
John relaxed slightly, giving Mycroft more room.
"You know my job, John. I have access to all kinds of things… But this one was different. I came across a book. An ancient book. About a 'crossroad demon'. I didn't believe it at first but-"
"You've summoned it. Haven't you?"
Mycroft's eyes didn't meet John's.
"Yes. I had to see if it was true. So I summoned it."
"What did it say?"
"She could bring Sherlock back. But in exchange I'd only have ten years left."
"Why you?"
"John, it could never be you. How do you think he'd survive once you'd been taken? No. It has to be me. Besides, I only want to see my brother happy."
John stood, torn between emotions and morals.
"Sherlock would hate me for doing this."
"He never has to know—"
"It would destroy him if he knew that his brother sacrificed his life for him, and I didn't try to stop him."
"John, you said we had to try anything."
He nodded.
"OK. But first, I'd like to see the book."
John stepped out of Mycroft's car, and stretched his legs after the hour journey. Mycroft had insisted they wait until nightfall, and that they pick a crossroad that wasn't covered in tarmac and extremely busy. Mycroft took the box out of the car, which was filled with all the items needed to summon the demon. Mycroft stood while John dug a hole in the dirt, before slotting the box in place, and burying it. They didn't have to wait long before the demon appeared.
"Hello boys." She smiled.
"Molly? What are you doing here?" John asked her, worried about the danger she could be in. Molly responded with a quick flash of black in her eyes.
"That's not my name."
John took a step back.
"We've come to make a deal." Mycroft told her.
"I know. Sherlock Holmes' life, in exchange for your soul in ten years, wasn't it?"
Mycroft nodded.
"Well, you know what?" She smiled, "I've changed my mind."
"What?"
"I want your soul." She pointed to John. "And in one year."
"No." Mycroft told her.
"I'd die, but Sherlock would live?" John asked her.
"John- no. Don't even think about this."
"Yes." She answered. John grabbed the back or her head and kissed her- sealing the deal. 'Molly' smiled. "Sherlock's back at your flat. See you in a year." She winked. Molly collapsed on the floor, gasping.
"Where am I? John?"
Mycroft helped her into the car, as John's phone started to ring. His phone seemed as excited as him to be displaying the caller ID: 'Sherlock Holmes'.
A/N: Just a short chapter which will set up for the rest of the story... I hope you like it! It may eventually become superwholock... idek. As always, please review- I like feedback! Please make criticism constructive, and point out spelling/grammar errors if I have missed any.
Love,
Beth