Angel of Death
53
{I accidentally closed my Internet Explorer window with like thirty fanfictions in it and they can't be recovered. *curls into a ball and dies for the umpteenth time*}
{Guys, if you have enough time to read fifty-three chapters of my crap: go read On the Side of the Angels. I literally spent six hours today on that, possibly seven. The result was a three-thousand word transcript of the Pink scene from A Study in Pink.} {Lo613 imagines Valspar as a giant bucket of paint. Lo and behold, the blooper at the end of this chapter.}
{There's an audio clip on Tumblr of Benedict Cumberbatch reading a book and pretended to be a black woman. Oh. My. God. Life is complete.}
As Sherlock wrenched the knife out of the man's throat, stepping to the side to avoid the blood, Valspar stared in shock.
The man fell to the ground, clutching at his throat, choking on his own blood. Sherlock watched his enemy die emotionlessly, coldly unattached from feelings.
I made my kill mark, he thought.
Valspar's breathing was audible.
Sherlock, blood dripping from his knife, turned in a sharp motion. "What?"
"You…" Valspar wet his lips. "You… you fucking killed him, Sherlock."
Quite consciously, Sherlock wiped the blade of the knife on his trouser leg. "Quite obvious, Valspar."
"You fucking murdered him!"
"I'm not sure if it qualifies as that. You were in danger. I resolved the matter as I saw best."
Valspar stared. "You just fucking killed a man, and all you have to fecking say is I resolved the matter as I saw best?"
"Yes." Sherlock looked down at the body, then back to Valspar. "All lives end. Some quicker than others."
All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage.
"I wasn't going to stand by as he killed you!" Sherlock snapped. "I wasn't going to let him just fucking strangle you like a whelp while I watched! I've stood by as someone died, watched people be tortured, and I held someone in my arms as they breathed their last breath, and I swore to myself that I'd never do it again! Goddamn it, Valspar!"
Valspar's eyes widened even further; he stepped back.
"I.." He swallowed. "Thanks," he breathed, the word fogging in the air.
Sherlock glared, then spat at the pavement by the corpse's side. "It's no problem." He wiped his hand on his jacket, then put the knife in that hand and cleaned the other.
Valspar winced visibly.
"Problem?" Sherlock asked smoothly.
"It's just…" he grimaced. "You're getting blood all over your clothes."
Sherlock looked down at himself. "And so I am. They were already bloody. It's hardly a new sensation for me."
Valspar blinked.
"I've scared you," Sherlock muttered, sheathing his knife- and realized that that was what it had taken for him to think of it as his, killing someone with it. A nameless someone, by the looks of it, with nothing to lose and no home to go to, and nobody to miss him.
Like me.
When Valspar said something, he was so caught up in his thoughts that he was dead certain he'd heard wrong.
"Say that again."
"Angel of Death, I called you," Valspar breathed reverently, stepped forward. "The look in your eyes when you pried him off me… it was unearthly, a brilliant, fiery fury. I swear, I was terrified just to be within a mile of you. Scared the hell out of me. You didn't seem human, or anything like it. You were like an avenger of some divine power, an angel sent on some mission by a higher power. You were like a god, Sherlock Holmes, full of wrath. The Angel of Death," he repeated, and actually bowed. "The Guardian of London, I dare say. Oh, this should be most interesting."
Now it was Sherlock who was surprised. He blinked slowly. "Nobody's ever bowed to me before," he murmured.
"You saved my life," Valspar reminded him gratefully. "I'll never forget it. Say the word, and I'll be at your command."
Sherlock stepped forward uncertainly. "I'm not an angel. I'm as far from an angel as they come."
"I beg to disagree." Valspar stepped to the side, circling him. "He Who Walks Alone," he said softly, and Sherlock closed his eyes. "The Guardian of London, the Angel of Death. I am at your service."
**
Chapter originally named "Valspar"; changed to "Angel of Death"
CHAPTER 53, BLOOPER EDITION
"VALSPAR"
This is going to be ridiculous xD
**
{We're calling Valspar "Paint Bucket", because Lo613 said to}
{If you want something like this, just request it xD}
"Oh. My. Fucking. God."
Sherlock turned, raising his eyebrows. "What?"
"You just fucking murdered him!"
"I did," Sherlock agreed easily.
"YOU MONSTER!" Paint Can ran away, overwhelmed by the amount of awesome, spilling small droplets of paint on the ground.
Sherlock looked after him unhappily. He'd been hoping to touch up the walls a bit.
**
…did I seriously just do that?
[actual chat transcript available upon request]
