Sherlock yanked at his hair in frustration as he paced around an apartment in Los Angeles, waiting for a man to die. John Watson was becoming an increasingly appealing thorn in his side, and he didn't know if there was anything he could do to prevent his appalling behaviour, or if he even wanted to prevent it.
John had attempted suicide no less than five times that week, each one more creative than the last. John was being reckless with his life, and Sherlock was terrified that he would somehow succeed in his endeavour.
The man, who had been busy choking on a piece of steak, grew still, his soul glowing brightly. Sherlock sighed, peeled off a glove, and yanked the soul from his body rather roughly.
"I've got two more deaths to attend to in the next few minutes. John Watson, you had better not try anything." Sherlock muttered to himself.
The first attempt at suicide had been real, of course. It had been the second time Sherlock had gotten to talk to John, and Sherlock had relished every moment of it, assuming the next time he saw John would be at his final death.
It was only a day later that he was called back, a gun held to John's head and a strange expression on his face that Sherlock thought appeared to be anticipation.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Sherlock demanded, snatching the gun out of John's hand and tucking it into his greatcoat. "I thought you put all this nonsense behind you."
"Sherlock." John grinned at him, looking entirely unconcerned that his life could have ended. "It's good to see you."
"I can't say the same for you." Sherlock huffed. He wouldn't give John the satisfaction to know that he was enjoying being able to see him; it might encourage bad behaviour. "I had hoped that our parting would last longer than a day."
"You…oh, of course." Something resembling disappointment flashed across John's face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to inconvenience you or anything."
"You haven't." Sherlock said slowly. "I just…I don't exactly want you to die just yet."
"Why not?" John asked.
"I find you fascinating." Sherlock replied without thinking, freezing when he realised what he had just said.
"You do?" A bright smile spread across John's face, and Sherlock had to avert his eyes.
"Obviously. Now stop this nonsense at once." Sherlock snapped, vanishing before John could say anything else.
The third and fourth time were very similar. Both involved a homemade noose, and both times Sherlock snapped it before it could so much as tighten. John barely got two words in before Sherlock vanished with a dramatic flair of his coat. He assumed that John would stop with this ridiculous charade if he didn't encourage the bad behaviour, but only two hours later he found him standing on top of a large building, prepared to jump.
"You idiot." Sherlock hissed, grabbing John's coat and yanking him back from the ledge. "Do you have a death wish?"
"Of sorts." John answered, smiling up at him. "Though, probably not how you're thinking."
"You want to see me?" Sherlock guessed, surprised when John nodded. "Why on earth why you want to see me? No one wants to see me."
"I find you fascinating." John had said, leaving Sherlock completely flustered. He had vanished, unsure of what else he could do at that point. John couldn't find him fascinating, not how he found John fascinating, at least.
Sherlock sighed as he finished his duties for the day. John had been fairly quiet, something that worried Sherlock immensely. It had been at least twenty-four hours since John's last attempt, and the silence was concerning.
It would hardly be in bad fashion to check up on John, right? After all, he had been doing it for months before John was nearly killed, he could probably be in and out in a few seconds.
Of course, that was easier said than done. Sherlock checked everywhere he knew looking for John: his flat, a coffee shop he frequented, and a Chinese place down the road, but John wasn't there.
"God, where could you possibly have gotten to?" Sherlock muttered, walking through Hyde Park quickly, feeling where John's soul had travelled not too long ago.
In front of him there was a shock of blond-going-grey hair, and Sherlock grinned, quickly hiding himself. While most people saw right through Sherlock, John had discovered how to see, and he would always look.
Not that it mattered much anyway. John was currently in deep conversation with another person, and Sherlock's insides went icy when he saw who it was. The silver-haired angel beamed at something John said, patting him on his good shoulder.
Why is Greg talking to John?!