Seeking Our Destruction - Part 1 - Desire
Disclaimer - I don't own the BBC Sherlock or any of the Endless/Sandman characters
This is a FUSION-verse. Meaning that the BBC Sherlock characters ARE the Endless.
Note - Desire is omnisexual/sexless, but she/he and him/her is a bit obnoxious so it has been shortened to se and hir (when autocorrect doesn't change it on me)
This was going to be a gen story, but then Desire got involved and my planned hints at romance cascaded into a major plot point. Oops.
WARNING - Desire/Moriarty is a she-man slut with gender identity issues and Sherlock/Dream has the squishy feelings for John. No sex, just romantic feelings/some kissing.
Destruction could have been called the best of them. He was a natural big brother, despite his position as the middle child. He was good natured and stable, effortlessly halting arguments between his strong willed siblings and always bolstering the fragile youngest, Delirium, with constant affection. He was the most genuinely affectionate of the Endless, and his sense of humor was second only to Death's. It understandably came as an incredible shock the day he abandoned his duties and walked out on his family without looking back. The kind hearted anthropomorphic personification of Destruction had grown tired of destroying and wanted nothing more to do with it, or the family connections that came with it. The remaining Endless all blamed themselves for making him leave, they all blamed him for abandoning them and they all blamed each other for driving him away. Without him there to play mediator, the wide chasms of personality conflict widened between the remaining siblings and started tearing their odd little family apart.
That was several hundred years ago. Long centuries without any contact, any message or sign of life from "the Prodigal." Then, in August of 1945, just after the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, their middle sister Despair suddenly declared that she could feel faint echoes of Destruction's emotional pain and left to find him. They hadn't heard anything since, from either of their missing siblings. While the absence of one of the eternal seven was distressing, missing two was disastrous.
That was just about 65 years ago. Delirium, having been dangerously unstable since Destruction's abandonment had taken Despair's disappearance harder than the rest and was on the verge of a complete collapse. Death and Destiny were quiet, having felt that they somehow failed their small dysfunctional family. Destiny believed he should have seen it all coming and could be found scouring the many pages of his book more thoroughly than ever before. Death wished she'd been there with a listening ear when they obviously needed her and became unbearably intent on checking in with her remaining brood near constantly, pestering them to speak with her about their feelings. Even Desire was more intolerable than usual, hir usually immaculate appearance suffering as se showed uncharacteristic distress at the loss of hir twin and elder brother. Dream, himself, was surprised at the exaggerated degree of pain he felt over the fact that his siblings didn't seem to care enough to stay, or even contact them; across the world humanity dreamt of abandonment and many a pillow was soaked in lonely tears.
Things couldn't continue like this, all of their aspects were suffering neglect from their many decades of distraction. Something had to be done. So, it was discussed and argued and eventually decided between them that they would search Earth. Death felt it was Destruction's most likely hideout, due to his concern over humanity's knack for self-destruction. He wanted nothing to do with having a hand in their inevitable annihilation, but his caring nature would render him unable to just walk away. He was self sacrificing enough that he would stay close and force himself to stand watch over the end of humanity. Delirium had declared, with a bit of crazed mumble deciphering on Destiny's part, that England was the most likely place to find Despair, since it rained so very much all the time. With no other leads, the others agreed that they would start their search in London.
Even the ever dissonant Desire had quickly agreed to the massive pooling of raw primal power that had allowed the Endless to assume human form and nature for as long as it took to find their errant siblings, but se had stridently disagreed to the methods of searching. Their sister-brother believed that Destruction would be drawn to a large enough invocation of his aspect and had proposed that they start a war or spark off a particularly virulent terrorist group. Dream had contradicted hir, citing the fact that Destruction had left in order to escape culpability for humanity's headlong rush towards mutually assured destruction. He would obviously avoid any and all such incidents of devastation, or they would have found him an age ago. Destiny and Death had taken his side and Delirium was in no way capable of making an informed decision either way, having used up her one remaining shred of relatively straight forward thought to suggest a starting point.
While they had shaped their human identities, Desire had grudgingly dropped the topic and Dream had thought for one blissful moment that se had seen reason and was not intent on causing as much carnage as possible in the hopes of summoning their absentee kin. Standing here, in a darkened pool after hours and seeing that highly familiar, demented and self satisfied grin on the face of a criminal consultant and terrorist bomber of at least 12 people, recognizing his sibling even behind the guise of Jim Moriarty, Dream (now Sherlock) remembered that Desire was in no way known for operating under any form of reason or logic, preferring to let passion and instinct guide hir.
It was a shame really. There had been a small part of him that had wished for Destruction to be Moriarty. It would have been so elegant to have chased down the criminal mastermind step by step and reveal that the two men he was chasing were one in the same. It seemed even the king and god of The Dreaming was prone to the occasional unproductive daydream. As always, Desire hadn't given up, se had merely changed hir game. Moriarty was shaping up to be a great threat to all of London exactly as Desire had planned, and the only thing standing in the way of his escalation was Sherlock. Dream and Desire were at odds once again.
"If you don't stop prying. I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you." Moriarty's dark brown eyes seemed blackened with the shadows he stood in. He knew, just as Sherlock did, that taking on the form and nature of mortals lessened their natural protections and made them just as susceptible to each other's power as any mundane human. It was a risk they had all taken in order to achieve their common goal, but it seemed that Desire's fickle and self-serving nature had been passed into this mortal incarnation and Jim Moriarty was abandoning their accord.
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."
"But we both know that's not quite true." The thought of a long dead mortal lover held in the embrace of a distant star crossed Sherlock's mind, reminding him of the true start of their feud, long before the progenitors of Carl Powers' species had even been spawned. The aeons old betrayal orchestrated by his cruel sibling that had led to him abandoning his heart. Moriarty's quicksilver smile at the reflexive tightening of his hands around John's gun was cutting. Desire had always known exactly how to cause him the most pain, as well se should, se was the cause of most of it. "Well. I'd better be off. It was so nice to have had a proper chat."
"What if I was to shoot you now? Right now." Anger washed over Sherlock, ancient festering bitterness based on the memory of flawless blue skin and green fire, a constant familiar rage that Desire would still be so selfish as to endanger any hope they had of finding Destruction just to be stubborn yet again and a new inferno of fury that Moriarty would draw John into this mess that was far larger than a simple army doctor could ever comprehend.
"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. 'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock, really I would, and just a teensy bit… disappointed." Desire always had known him too well. As long as there was even a sliver of chance that Moriarty's antics could draw out their brother, Sherlock wouldn't shoot and they both knew it. He also found himself strangely reluctant to risk John's brief insignificant little life and the equally inconsequential form of Sherlock. His eyes widened in horrified realization and Moriarty winked at him. He had been manipulated again, and now losing John was no longer an acceptable loss. Desire had once again given him something precious with the full intent to tear it away and leave him bleeding. "And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, 'Sherlock Holmes'."
"Catch… you… later." Despite the knowledge that he wouldn't shoot, Sherlock couldn't help but track Moriarty's movements with his gun as he brushed past John and meandered out the side door. It was rather appropriately labelled Women's Locker. If his act as 'Jim from IT' was any indication, Moriarty's gender and sexual identity were as flexible as Desire's always had been. It seemed that, even as humans, many of their personal quirks shone through. Sherlock wondered what that said about him.
"No you won't!" Sherlock took a moment to gather himself as the sickly sweet scent of summer peaches faded. The adrenaline of the night was still coursing through his bloodstream (he would never get used to that sensation) and his mind was focused and sharp.
John was watching him quietly. Steady, loyal John, with his addiction to danger, pragmatic willingness to kill and fondness for tea and a warm broken-in jumper. In Dream's long life he had never met someone so eminently normal but at the same time full of hidden depth and intriguing broken bits. He was an addiction. How had Sherlock ever lived without him… and if he continued this game with Moriarty, how likely was he to be forced to live without him in the future? Humans were so short-lived and transient. John and Sherlock could live to a grand 'old age' and still be dust in a relative eye blink in the perspective of the Endless. His sister would claim John all too quickly and there would be nothing he could do to convince her otherwise. Every moment was important, because inevitably, be it Death or Desire, one of his siblings would be taking John from him far too soon.
"Alright? Are you alright?" It was suddenly intolerable to see John standing there bearing the wired weight of his own death around his shoulders, constructed by Desire's cruel plans. John belonged to Sherlock. He belonged to Dream of the Endless, and Sherlock swore by all the power of The Dreaming that John would live as long as humanly possible. He would do everything he could to forestall his siblings taking him away.
He quickly stripped the explosives laced parka off of John and threw the latest in bomb fashion as far as his human strength allowed… which was a dismally small distance. He didn't want anything Desire had touched anywhere near John. The relief he felt was nearly palpable. It drown out his smoldering anger towards Desire and even his near constant melancholy about Destruction's absence. The emotions John inspired were paramount to everything. Desire had plied his trade perfectly and Sherlock was completely ensnared. Everything had gone wrong, but all he could think was that while he may lose his doctor eventually, it wouldn't be tonight.
"Well, I'm glad no one saw that."
"Hmm?" These rediscovered emotions really were distracting, he'd have to work on that.
"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."
"People do little else." As the adrenaline drained out of him, he shared a goofy smile with John. His wonderful blogger had gotten caught in the middle of two feuding primal forces of the universe and had not only come out unscathed, but was still making jokes. He really was a wonderful human.
A wonderful human with a sniper's mark on his chest.
Sherlock felt his newfound heart freeze in his chest. Se wouldn't. Not so soon. If there was a god that might listen to his prayers, Dream would have fallen to his knees right there. This couldn't happen now, before he even had a chance to tell John how important he was.
"Sorry boys. I'm SO changeable. It is a weakness with me, but to be perfectly honest, it is my only weakness." Sherlock made eye contact with John, trying with all the inability in his human meat and bone to telepathically tell his partner everything he needed to say. The warmth in his chest bloomed anew when he read understanding and agreement in John's grey-blue eyes.
"You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." They'd long since dug in with their respective opinions, before they were even born. There was nothing Desire hadn't already tried to convince or coerce Dream into agreeing with hir. So, it seemed his sister-brother was instead going to remove the obstacle he represented, permanently. Sherlock Holmes would die and Dream could no longer be with John or search Earth for his brother. It was the ultimate endgame.
"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock would far rather be the one to take John's life than allow Desire to get hir claws into him.
For a brief moment, after he had pulled the trigger and before the world exploded in red and yellow fiery shards of buffeting pain, everything stopped and the godlike creature bottled up in Sherlock's carefully constructed human body was able to feel something that he hadn't sensed in several hundred years. The air grew thick with the iron tang of ancient blood and heavy with ozone and he had the phantom sensation of a familiar set of powerful arms wrapping around him, enshrouding him with the comfortingly overwhelming presence of his younger brother. In that moment, Sherlock and Jim were briefly stripped away and Dream's inhuman, star filled eyes met the tawny, yellow-wine irises of Desire over the detonating explosives and they both reveled in the knowledge that although they couldn't see him, Destruction was there with them, in that abandoned pool. He never had liked it when they fought.
Then the moment was over because John was tackling Sherlock sideways into the pool, high velocity shards of tile were cutting into their flesh while fire and smoke enveloped them and they were staining what small amount of water hadn't been blasted out of the pool red with their blood while the ceiling collapsed on them. Destruction indeed.
A/N -
I didn't change much of the scene, because they're really kinda already the perfect Desire/Dream without much interference.
Sorry if the Dream/Sherlock and Desire/Moriarty thing confused anyone. I tried to identify who was thinking what. Sherlock is a subset of Dream, so when he thinks of things that are bigger than humanity, he's doing so as Dream, not as Sherlock. Also, Desire is se, but Moriarty is he, since he's human and has a set gender. I even confused myself with that one, which is actually kinda appropriate.
If you don't know about Desire setting up and then ruining Dream's relationship with Killalla of the Glow, sparking off the Dream/Desire feud, read "Endless Nights."
As far as I can tell this will be 7/8ish parts, one for each of the Endless, plus an epilogue (maybe)