Two years before John met Sherlock
Jim Moriarty comes home, hanging up his coat on the way in. He places his briefcase down by the front door before taking off his shoes and walking farther into his simple and brightly colored home. He makes his way into the kitchen where he can hear quiet chatter. There is a dark haired boy sitting at the table doing homework and a thin dark haired beauty making dinner nearby. Jim walks over to his son first, kissing the top of the boy's head and greeting his son.
"How is your homework coming, Henry?" Jim asked his son.
"I'm almost done with it, dad," Henry answered before returning his focus to his homework, determined to get it done before dinner. Jim smiled at his boy before walking over to his wife just as she turns around to greet her husband. "Hello Irene," Jim greets in a loving whisper.
(Line Break)
John and Sherlock had been chasing a criminal around London all day. Just a petty thief that was difficult to catch. Sherlock and John watched as the criminal was shoved into the police car, the criminal grumbling about getting caught by 'Sherlock and his boyfriend'.
"I'm not gay!" John shouted at the criminal, never noticing the quick sorrowful look Sherlock shot his way.
John made sure Sherlock stayed long enough to give Lestrade a statement about the case before they headed home. As they walked back to the flat, Sherlock would whisper deductions about the people they pass by just to hear John complement him the whole way home. When they finally enter their flat, John heads up to his room while Sherlock walked into their living room to play his violin.
As soon as John reached his bedroom door, he unlocked it and entered. The first thing John did once he closed his bedroom door was look directly above his head. Above him is his bedroom ceiling with a swirling red vine-like design that hid the Devil's Traps in front of his door and window along with every other protection sigil he and his friends could find. His hunting gear was tucked away in a bag under his bed and his hunting journal was hidden between his boxspring and mattress. One of the only reasons John hasn't been caught was because he made sure to be extra careful with Sherlock home and he always locked his door. Both when he is away and while he was in his room.
John locked his door and pulled out his phone, having programmed his hunting friends into his phone shortly after he had gotten the device from Harry. The doctor checked the time: 3:00 pm. He quickly added the hours up to make sure they wouldn't be asleep before calling Sam. The younger hunter picked up on the second ring.
"Hey John," the moose of a man greets. "We just finished a hunt. How have you been?"
"Good so far. My flatmate just finished another case," John replied, slowly unwinding.
"Great! Can we expect a blog update soon then?"
"Probably, if I don't have to stop Sherlock from getting punched anytime soon."
"But then you'd probably start making out with each other finally," Sam teased.
"I'm not gay!"
"Neither am I but we both still seem to like guys every now and again," Sam countered with a laugh.
"No, apparently you like trickster demigods," John teased right back. The doctor chuckled when he heard a quiet curse over the phone.
"Dean told you, huh?"
"Yeah, from what I got from Dean's point of view, you were really hitting it off with the Trickster." There was another curse from Sam's end before the two men laughed and joked around for a little bit, talking about various hunts and whether Sam and Dean would be able to catch up with the demon that killed their parents. Their conversation then turns to complaining about Sherlock and Dean, as per usual. Once the two complained and laughed to their heart's' content they signed off.
As John returns to the living room, he thinks about all the monsters he's hunted out of London. Sure, there were still the few who thought they could take back little bits of London or could challenge John but each one failed miserably. Although, he did leave a few alone, the ones that were actually good and not trying to harm anyone. Like Mrs. Hudson or the butcher across town. He still checks up on each of them from time to time to make sure they aren't trying to hurt people but other than that he leaves them be.
When John finally makes it into the living room he sees his landlady sitting on the couch with a cuppa. The two easily greet each other, the older woman telling him that Sherlock ran out of the flat with another murder mystery. John was about to sit down when what Mrs. Hudson said next made him freeze.
"Those poor homeless. It almost sounded like a vampire attack."
John grabbed a machete, a small jar of dead man's blood, and a lighter before racing out the door. He's worked too hard to keep Sherlock out of the supernatural world to let it go to waste now. The doctor stopped dead in his tracks, just remembering the Mycroft's cameras and the fact that he didn't know where the killings were happening. John walked back inside and could see Mrs. Hudson coming down the stairs.
"They keep happening over by the Thames," Mrs. Hudson answered before he could ask, already knowing John is going to double check the area for clues.
The doctor nods before walking out again and taking a cab until he was a couple blocks away from the murder site, the lights of the police cars lighting up the nightly river. John made sure to stay out of sight from everyone, including Sherlock. The doctor then snatched his phone out of his pocket and texted Phil. He watched from a distance as Anderson suddenly excused himself and walked over to where John was hiding.
"Vampire. Definitely a vampire," Anderson whispered once he reached John's hiding spot. "How do you plan to kill it without Sherlock noticing? If his homeless network sees you they'll tell him."
"Not if I get to it first," John told him with determination.
"It's spiraling towards the center of London," Anderson sighed. John nodded before dashing off, getting a quick glimpse of Sherlock heading in their direction.
It didn't take much longer after that for John to find and stop the vampire male from going after another one of Sherlock's homeless. The vampire and John battled for quite a while, the homeless staring wide-eyed in the background, before John finally used his machete to cut its head off and then tossing it into the trash to burn the body. John clutched his bleeding side, texting Mrs. Hudson to tell her he needed a patch up when he got home and convinced the homeless not to tell Sherlock what happened.
John took a cab home and Mrs. Hudson rushed to him, finger to her mouth to keep him quiet. She ushered him into her kitchen to get his patch work done and told him Sherlock was home looking for clues on the case. The two, as they wait for the soother to finish, talk about random things, eventually leading back to John's curse. John had only told his friends that already knew about the supernatural world about his curse and each one was sure John could find a way to break it.
"I'm sure there is a way to break the curse, love." Mrs. Hudson encourages as she rubs the soothers on the wound. "The girl was young then, a little younger than you, right?" John nods his head, which was resting on his jumper pillow. "She probably made a mistake in the incantation."
"If there is, then someone will have to sacrifice their life," John groans, hating this topic. Mrs. Hudson, John knew, was the only witch he would ever trust.
"Come now, dear. She was young. I'm sure she's made a mistake. I know I did. Several times for that matter."
"I doubt that I'm going to bump into Ursula again, Mrs. Hudson."
(Line Break)
John watched as Sherlock's bloody body was taken away from the scene. He felt like he was having an out of body experience as he stared after Sherlock's body. The only thing he could think of was no on repeat. He had kept his distance. He had made sure Sherlock didn't know about the curse. He had tried to tamp down his love for Sherlock. He had hoped the curse wouldn't react to his love for Sherlock. Now Sherlock was dead.
'Get it together, Watson,' John thought before turning his gaze up to Bart's roof. John set his shoulders and marched inside the building, making his way up to the roof. When he finally got to the top, he saw Moriarty's body, blood still dripping out from the hole in his head. The army doctor glared and marched over to kick the corpse for good measure when he saw it. A powdering dust on the edge of Jim's lips. John swiped a finger across it and sniffed.
"Sulfur," John whispered, eyes widening. This was a demon's doing. A growl escaped his throat as he stood and swiftly left the roof before anyone could see him. John muttered and cursed himself all the way back to Baker Street. Moriarty was still alive and Sherlock was dead. John knew he wasn't clever enough against Moriarty but he was and is a hunter. He can hunt the demon down.
When they had first met Jim at the pool, John had a feeling that Moriarty was more dangerous than he seemed. He didn't realize it then but it was his hunter instincts screaming at him to notice the demon. Now it was too late to save Sherlock. There was no questioning it. John was going to avenge Sherlock even if it kills him.
Mrs. Hudson showered him with sorrows the moment John walked through the door. The doctor comforted his landlady until her sobs subsided. He then told her about the sulfur and how he is planning to go after Moriarty. She encouraged him before John sent her to her flat, promising to have a cup of tea with her shortly, just as they heard a knock on the front door. He walked over to the door, his shoulders never relaxing since Bart's, and opened the door to see Mycroft standing there. The two gave each other wary greetings before John allowed the elder Holmes to enter. The two stood by the stairs as they talked.
"You don't have to worry about the rent, I'll make sure it's paid in full," Mycroft informed John, making the army doctor angry.
"Why didn't you help him?" John growled out, not caring about the rent. "Why didn't you stop him from going after Moriarty alone?" Before John could really get into a full-on angry speech against Mycroft, there was another knock on the door. Confused, John opened it to reveal an ordinary delivery man carrying a box the size of a small suitcase. Before John could tell the delivery man that he had the wrong flat, the delivery man spoke.
"Hello again, Johnny Boy," he says, eyes going black. "It's nice to see you without Sherlock nearby." John is confused before he realizes, his hands curling into fists as understanding overtook him.
"You possessed Jim Moriarty," John growled out, backing up to make sure he had the option to run up the stairs to his room if needed. Mycroft would usually butt in about now except he was too busy gaping at the black eyes of the delivery man.
"And?" John just looks confused. "Come now, we met when you were merely seven," the demon teased. John gasps, tensing as recognition sets in.
"Choronzon," he whispers as the demon gives a sickly sweet smile that grows into a Cheshire like grin. Choronzon then drops the box, making it fall open and revealing the butcher knives as they tumble out.
"Oopsies," the demon says in a sing-song voice. He then raises his hand and the knives rise up, blades pointing to Mycroft and John before they began to dive towards the duo.
John quickly grabs the elder Holmes' wrist and proceeds to drag Mycroft out of harm's way and up to his room. Mycroft was shouting the whole way up and asking John what Choronzon is and what is going on. Once at the top of the stairs, John fumbles with his key before quickly thrusting it into his bedroom lock. John and Mycroft barely make it into the room before Choronzon catches up to them. John dives for his hunting bag but it flies out of his hands due to Choronzon's power just before the demon unknowingly steps into the Devil's Trap, making John smirk and break Mycroft's brain further.
John stands protectively in front of Mycroft, unwilling to let another Holmes fall prey to this monster. The demon casually stalks towards them, like a cat stalking a bug, still not realizing he was trapped. He didn't go far from the door before acting as though he had walked into an invisible wall, which would have been funny if the situation hadn't been what it was. Choronzon looked confused at first before he looked up, Mycroft following his stare, to see the devil's trap hidden within the ceiling's intricate design.
"Paranoid little human, aren't you?" Choronzon teases as he studies the almost decorative lines cleverly hidden.
"It keeps me safe," John replied shortly. Mycroft changes his gaze to stare at the black eyes in horror and confusion.
"Hi~!" Choronzon greets the government man in a sing-song voice. "Name's Choronzon but you know me as Jim Moriarty. Or rather, the poor bloke I possessed was named Moriarty. I was just the demon that borrowed his name and meat suit for a little while," the demon informed, whispering the last sentence. "Had to ditch the last host, couldn't have any humans getting suspicious and all that." The demon relished the look of Mycroft having troubles processing everything before turning his sights on John. "Oh, and you, Johnny Boy. You're very famous in the supernatural world. I'm very impressed," the mad-demon purred. "You see, I've had my eye you and Sherly for a long time, hunter."
"Right. 'Cause I'm a special little goldfish," John sassed.
"Ah, but you are. You and Sherly were simply meant to be~" Choronzon singsonged. "Had to physically stop you two from meeting a few times over the years." John stiffens, not believing his ears. "Oh yes, I had to stop you two from meeting in kindergarten, in middle school, in high school, even a couple of times when you were at the University. Luckily, by college Sherlock was so deep into drugs that he ended up doing most of the work for me. Although I did have to put little Harriet in jail so that you wouldn't meet his overdosed state a few times." John was horrified. He was supposed to meet his best friend sooner before he was cursed. Vaguely, John thought that maybe if he had met Sherlock before the witches, maybe he wouldn't have been cursed. "I warned him, didn't I? That I would burn the heart out of him? Although it was absolutely wonderful to hear that you had destroyed your own chances with that little… problem before the war. Though, I have to admit," said the demon, almost coyly. "It was a shame to put a stop to such an adorably cliche wedding"
"What wedding?" John asks, dread and indescribable pain filling his gut alongside anger for not being able to spend more time with Sherlock. Chronozon only smirks.
"Why, your and Sherlock's of course," John sees red, anger and hatred filling his every pore as he spits Latin at the demon like acid.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio, et secta diabolica, ergo, draco maledicte ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rugamus, audi nos." The red fades as the demon is pulled out of the body and sent to Hell. John is left feeling empty inside as thoughts of Sherlock consumed his mind. Mycroft managed to get John's attention as he shifted uncomfortably in the room.
"I am unsure as to what just happened," Mycroft said uncomfortably.
"Long story short, this is no ordinary case and the supernatural exists," John explained. "I'm going after Choronzon's web and nothing you do is going to stop me."
"I'll help." John lifted an eyebrow at the government man. "I'll get you all the supplies you need but you have to work with a partner of my choosing." The army doctor thought about it for a bit before agreeing, thinking that having the supplies needed will be more helpful than hustling pool. He then searches for some paper and a pen to write down his supplies before handing it over to Mycroft.
"Have these ready by the end of the week," John orders. "I'll be ready by then." The elder Holmes nods before helping the delivery man find his way home, sending the list to one of his minions, before heading over to his office where Sherlock was waiting for him.
"How is John handling everything?" Sherlock immediately asks.
"Relax, brother mine. Your doctor is fine for now," Mycroft informs. "However, I have received information on Moriarty's web. It turns out that it is far more dangerous than we originally expected. I'm assigning you a partner." Mycroft made sure to be careful not to say Choronzon to Sherlock until the doctor and detective could meet. Sherlock made a scoffing noise but didn't argue, knowing he was going to need Mycroft's resources during his time away.
(Line Break)
John used the next week to make sure he had everything he needed for his trip and saying goodbye to Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. The day before John was to leave for his mission, he and his landlady went to visit Sherlock's grave, never noticing the detective himself hiding behind the nearby tree. Mrs. Hudson tried to cheer him up but it didn't work well and she soon left for the cab that was waiting for them.
"Um… mmm. You… you told me once that you weren't a hero. Umm… there were times I didn't even think you were human, but let me tell you this: you were the best man, and the most human… human being that I've ever known and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, and so… There." John lets out a breath, refusing to admit that it was a whimper as he steps closer to the headstone and places his fingers on top of it. "I was so alone, and I owe you so much. Okay." John started to turn away when his gut told him to stay. That there was someone nearby, listening. He surveyed the land and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. John then stared at the headstone in front of him and a thought occurred to him.
"No…" John tried to crush the hope that was slowly rising in his chest. He was sure it wasn't possible. The hunter surveyed the area again and still didn't see anything. "Please, there's just one more thing, mate. One more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't… be…" John takes a breath and feels it quiver. "Dead. Would you do…?" He takes another breath, beginning to feel ridiculous. "Just for me, just stop it. Stop this." John then turns away to head back to the flat with Mrs. Hudson, never seeing the one and only consulting detective shed a tear for his friend. Never seeing the longing to just walk over and hug his doctor. Never seeing the sadness in Sherlock's eyes.