Get ready for a Plot twist! It's about to get interesting!
-‡-Prince of Hell-‡-
Chapter Five
Later that night in a small hotel bed, with Mary comfortably curled around him like a personal teddy bear; John realized that the second Holmes must have been watching him the entire time he was at the Charity Gala. A procession he never felt like repeating again. It was bad enough the humans avoided his company but crowded his space the entire night. John also didn't get to see the first Holmes again or find out his name. He didn't know what to call either of the Holmes, only first and second, which made his lips twitch in amusement. Were they even related? Brother's? Cousins? Dark blue eyes flickered around the shadowy room. The scare furniture and gloomy setting almost convinced John he was back in Hell nestled in his own room, the cold convinced his brain otherwise. How could humans find seventy degrees warm?
"The wanker didn't even tell me where we're meeting up." John growled.
His eyes snapped down to Mary. He hadn't thought about her and he naturally assumed she would follow him, but he didn't think the first Holmes to be the kind who enjoyed surprises. It wasn't like he could just arrive with Mary and announce "This is my blood bond slave but I treat her like my sister. I hope its ok that she stays, we're just checking out your potential to take over my job as the Prince of Hell. By the way fancy a cuppa tea?" John snorted at the bazar thought. Yeah that wasn't going to happen.
Squeezing his eyes shut John concentrated on his breaths, a helpful technique from his warring days. Slowly he drifted into the blissful darkness and into silent dreams; free of the damned's endless screaming. A lullaby he'd never miss.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-
"Mary I'm not a doctor, the closest I've ever come to being an Army doctor was ripping the spin out of an enemy and then bringing back his corpse to fight against his own kind." John sighed.
Mary tittered in amusement behind her cup of tea, the one thing she missed most from Above. Even John loved when the robust leaves where brewed; it was a pleasure to smell something warm and happy. They sat at a tiny table, provided by the Hotel, by a large window overlooking the beautiful city of London as the sun peeked over the horizon. Athena had left them a message via the Hotel to tell them Mary could stay with her but that John should look for a place. John was ruffled at first that his own blood bond was kicking him out but he settled down after he realized reason. Jumping to conclusions was purely a Watson's trait.
"How can I pretend to be a doctor around that-…those men?" He complained.
Mary nodded, her eyes locked upon the sunset, gazing at it hungrily. She didn't need to truly listen to John, he'd figure it out himself. He just needed someone to ramble on to.
John rubbed his face as his shoulders slumped. On the bedside, John's phone trilled a happy turn. John shot a perplexed look at Mary. "Is it dying?"
She chuckled and pulled her blue robe closer around her body. John wore a thin white shirt and a pair of soft blue sleeping pants. His suit and her dress where hanging in the closet along with a suitcase of new clothes, jumpers included. She wondered when he'd realize that although he looked cuddly in, they just weren't fitting for a Prince of Hell. On the other hand looking harmless would make the humans more likely to approach him.
"That means you have a text message." Mary replied.
John pursed his lips and eyed the small black device before getting up with the help of his cane and limping over to the bed. He sat down and picked up the device.
221B Baker Street
Come once if convenient
-SH
John looked down at the phone, wondering who it might have been. He had a suspicion but wasn't fully sure. It rang again and another message popped up.
If inconvenient
Come anyway
-SH
John smiled as he stood up, what the hell, he could use a little bit of mystery and adventure. Going over to the wardrobe he selected a pair of comfy jeans and a jumper. "Don't wait up Mary, I might be late." He called as he threw on his clothes and dashed out of the room. Mary smiled over her cup of tea, turning back the sun that had fully risen. She hadn't ever seen him this excited. It was a nice change.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
John stood awkwardly at the doorstep of 221B Baker Street, unsure whether to knock. In the olden times one was invited in but John wasn't sure if that was the case now, the humans seemed much more relaxed in this century. Maybe he should go in? A cab pulled up and the first Holmes bounded out with the grace of a gazelle but the attitude of an excited puppy. The strange cross brought a smile to John's lips as he watched the man bound forward and rapidly knock on the green door. An elderly woman promptly answered. She had graying hair, a purple dress and the kind of disposition most grandmothers from fairytales do. She appeared to be the type to bake cookies. John loved cookies and it'd been a few centuries since he'd last consumed on.
"Sherlock!" The women proclaimed joyously, holding her arms out to the first Holmes.
"Ms. Hudson, this is Dr. John Watson. He's going to share the flat with me."
John frowned at who he now knew was Sherlock, who had briefly hugged the elderly lady with what he assumed was affection. "I never said that."
Sherlock ignored him, an action Harry used to do when she didn't like what he'd said. John rolled his eyes and followed after the man up the stairs, taking note of the leafy wallpaper and finding it oddly soothing. At the top Sherlock opened a door. John hobbled in, surveying the quaint apartment. It was very nice and from his spot he could see outside through the open windows, thinly veiled in cream. The wallpaper was some sort of dark brown flower print and one wall was a rich forest green. The fireplace accented it all and made the flat homey. The mess was a bit startling but John felt it could be worked around.
"This is a nice place." He commented walking around and just soaking it in. Sherlock's lips twitched happily as his eyes alit. John caught the expression form the corner of his eye.
Sherlock clapped his hands. "That's what I thought so I already moved in."
John turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow and motioning to the boxes and junk littered over every usable surface. "It's a lot of stuff."
Sherlock looked embarrassed as he moved around and attempted to tidy up. "Well, obviously I can straighten things up."
John watched the lanky man hurry about throwing things back into boxes and sat in the left chair by the empty fireplace. He could admit Sherlock was handsome and the sight of the man bending down and biting his lip in worry was an appealing picture to view. Ms. Hudson walked in holding a newspaper. "There's a bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing it."
John drummed his fingers on the chair. "Of course I'll be needing it."
Ms. Hudson chuckled fondly. "Don't worry dear there's all sorts around here."
John frowned. He didn't have a problem with others insinuating he was gay because it was true, but he assumed John Watson human army doctor might. He really hated this stupid persona. It confused people and then no one got to know the real him. Sherlock stopped moving at his comment, long fingers stilling over a book before the moment was broken and he continued throwing junk back into boxes. The two fondly ignored him and kept moving around. Ms. Hudson just moving around while Sherlock took off his jacket and scarf, hanging both behind the door.
"What about these suicides, Sherlock? I thought they'd be right up your street."
John's head snapped up from where he had been blankly staring out the open window, marveling at the fall day. The question struck him as odd, why would this elderly woman ask Sherlock about suicides? His left palm itched and he desperately wanted to rub it and read their sins, maybe he was wrong about this Holmes. But he resisted and just listened. Sherlock turned his back on Ms. Hudson to gaze out the window in thought.
"There's been a forth, and something is different this time."
John's eyes widened at the man's calm voice and glazed over expression. It was as if an oracle was predicting what was to come. Doubt on Sherlock's human status flooded his mind before he pushed that thought away. On the stairs he heard bounding footsteps. A tall man in a brown jacket and graying hair and strong disposition appeared at the open door. He was panting heavily and his light gray eyes where wide.
Sherlock didn't greet them man just barked at him. "Where?"
"Brixton"
Sherlock turned his head. "What's different?"
"This one left a note. Are you coming?"
"Not in the car, I'll take a cab." He said with a happy grin. "Oh it's Christmas!"
Sherlock grabbed his jacket and scarf and bounded down the stairs as the other man stood at the door way. Neither the man nor Ms. Hudson seemed surprised at his joyous outburst on a suicide; John noted that down as another of Sherlock's growing list of quirks. Ms. Hudson nodded at the man patting his shoulder as she left. "Don't work too hard Lestrade."
He smiled down at her fondly. "Of course."
John stood up, gripping his cane hard enough to make his knuckles tight. The two men stood staring at each other. Lestrade looked down the stairs, listening for the humans to leave before approaching John, with a leering smile. The air in the room thickened and became stale as the two being moved from the present human reality to a sub-layer of limbo. The outside noises of the busy London streets below became quite as the world stopped turning on its axis.
Human's where delicate creatures with fascinating minds that could image creatures of the night and light but couldn't handle actually seeing them. John flicked out his right hand, a silver browning appearing in his waiting hands, the gun softly smoking black. It was his preferred weapon of choice when on the realm. Lestrade flipped back his coat and with his left hand reached to his right side and pulled out a silver sword, faintly glowing. The two men pointed their weapons at each other.
Attacking would be declaring war. John sure as hell didn't need the extra stress and he assumed the celestial didn't either.
"John Watson, I had heard the rumors but never thought I'd see the great Prince of Hell in my realm."
"St. George. Slain any monsters lately? By the looks of things you just can't stay away from murder." John sneered.
Lestrade gritted his teeth. "Leave the Holmes alone."
John was about to protest that he hadn't planned to corrupt Sherlock in any manner but stopped, Lestrade had said Holmes. The Lestrade's' where the Watson's flip side of Patience, Kindness and Humanity and George being their eldest son was the obvious heir. It only made sense he also was looking for someone else, but John assumed his intention where far more noble like marriage and commitment. The celestials where ripe with their rules of purity. John lowered his gun to his side and relaxed his position. George looked startled at John's surrender before a duel could even be instigated. Lestrade narrowed his eyes but kept his sword pointed at John's heart, in his experience Hellions weren't to be trusted ever.
"What makes you so sure I've met the other?" John said smugly, the celestial looked ruffled.
"Stay away from them. They're great people and one day might even be good men." Lestrade threatened, he was impressed then the blonde man didn't even blink.
John took a step forward. "I only want one thing; a new King. Look at me I'm crippled and old news, but one of them would be perfect. We could finally have the fair ruler we need and I could take down those Moriarty's once and for all. Or I could let the crown pass to Harry and we'd be looking at the next war."
Lestrade studied John, sighing heavily the celestial heir lowered his sword, rubbing the back of his head. "I underestimated you, John Watson."
The blonde daemon smiled lazily. "You know I hear that a lot." John flicked his wrist again, his gun disappearing into a black mist. He hobbled forward and offered his hand to Lestrade.
"Let's start over. I'm just John Watson; Army doctor."
Lestrade let his own sword go and it dissipated into a cloud of light before taking John's out stretched hand. "Greg Lestrade; Detective Inspector."
The Celestial Heir and Prince of Hell shook hands as the sub-reality slipped away around them and they were left standing in the current realm. The sounds of the busy London streets flowed through the room, and Ms. Hudson chatted to herself as she journeyed down the stairs. John dropped Greg's hand and stepped away, both men nodding at the other. Greg turned on his heel and stomped down the stairs, out to his car. John sighed heavily rubbing the back of his neck; he looked down at his crippled leg.
"Damn my leg."
-Quick Question DOES ANYONE want to see an epic daemon battle in sub-limbo between John and said daemonic possessions or Should he just shoot them? I can do either way!
Thanks for reading!
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