I assume we're all big kids here and cursing won't be a problem but for those who do have a problem well...… yeah.
-‡-Prince of Hell-‡-
Chapter Six
"You're an army doctor." Sherlock said pulling his leather gloves down on his long fingers.
So deep in his own musings and self-pity, John hadn't heard the man come back up the stairs. Great Gods that man moved like a shadow. John briefly wondered if he should sleep with one eye open. "Yes."
"Any good?"
John hoped he channeled human confidence correctly. "Very good."
"Probably seen a lot of carnage and blood. Violent deaths too." Sherlock continued, lazily leaning against the open door frame.
Thinking of his warring days, John's eyes looking into a distant memory. "Yes, far too many."
"Want to see another?" Sherlock said with a mischievous smile.
John perked up at the idea of getting out, of traveling anywhere with this fascinating human being. "Gods yes." He breathed.
Sherlock broke into a smile that seemed to make him glow. With a flap of his coat he turned on his heel, thumping down the stairs, John eagerly followed behind. Stopping outside as Sherlock hailed a cab and they climbed in, both tittering with excitement and grinning like fools.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-
"What do you do?"
Sherlock's grin faded off his face as the cab traveled through the darkening streets of London the streetlights twinkling like stars as they rushed by. "I do consulting work for Scotland Yard when they're out of their depth, which is always."
"The yard wouldn't consult an amateur." John stated, hoping to further move the conversation. Sherlock seemed to have shut down.
"Your skin is tanned but not below the wrists or neck so you've been abroad, but not sunbathing. At the Gala you said 'not in my day' showing you've been away from society for a while and your medical history was easy; it was your event for your family's newest hospital. Then your phone, it's a newer model, but you seem the simple type so it was given to you by a relative that wants to keep in touch, probably a brother. He gave you that phone which was a gift from his wife after he left her, you probably disapproved of him walking out on her but it was probably the drinking that caused the rift. Which brings us to the scrapes on the side of the phone, you don't see a sober man's with it and never see a drunken man's without. So you were right; the yard doesn't consult amateurs."
John's jaw dropped. "That…that was fantastic."
Sherlock perked up, clearly not expecting praise, but his face glowed happily. "That isn't what they normally say."
John's eyebrows knit. "What do they normally say?"
"Piss off."
The two men looked at each other before once again ginning like loons and chuckling. John felt an inner warmth he'd never felt before blossoming in his chest. It was soothing and calm. The more he looked at Sherlock the warmer it became until John was certain the tingling warmth would consume him. Not that he would complain.
"Did I get anything wrong?"
John wanted to yell 'Yes' from the top of the rooftops and declare his true nature but instead settled for the less obvious flaw in the brilliant man's deductions, that wouldn't puncture his ego too much.
"Harry is short for Harriet."
"Sister! There's always something." Sherlock groaned, causing John to chuckle at his petulant expression. He looked like a pouting child.
They arrived at a deserted building, police cars already blocking off traffic. The two men climbed out and Sherlock confidently strode towards the taped off area, his face alight with a joyous grin while his fingers drummed at his sides. At the tape a dark skinned women in a well-fitting business suit and glistening gold badge on her belt stopped them with a sneer. She reeked of sin. John felt like covering his mouth to stop the stench but felt that would be rude.
"Hello freak."
"Officer Donovan, you didn't make it home last night." Sherlock purred, but John could feel the malice radiating off of the two as they pleasantly smiled at each other. "Detective Inspector Lestrade invited me to have a look."
It seemed appropriate to faceplam at Sherlock's obvious statement towards Donovan. H was itching for a fight. John gripped his can tighter, trying to resist the urge to cover his face.
Her dark eyes flickered over to John and for a moment they widened and John was sure she recognized him, but they narrowed. "Who's he?"
"A friend." Sherlock supplied firmly, leaving no room to argue.
Sally Donovan seemed to consider his words before a sly smile slid over her face and she glowered up at Sherlock. John wished he could have punched her before the words came from her mouth. "Just a friend?" She purred, lifting the tape with a smug chuckle and leering gaze.
John stiffened and wanted so desperately to smite her where she stood, or burn her in black flames. How dare she insult him and his-..… John firmly shook himself from his musings, partly terrified at his own thoughts. He had never wished such harm on anyone before and all she had done was ignorantly make a lewd comment, Sherlock took it well with an icy shoulder, storming past the women. John's hand shook, was he losing it?
He certainly felt conflicted. So many emotions flowed through his mind. Laughter, anger, sadness, protectiveness. No of which we're odd for him but he couldn't recall them all happening in a single day. He needed a nap.
"Did he follow you home?" She commented as John hobbled past her.
"I did the following." He said truthfully, leaving her dumbstruck.
A man strutted down the stairs towards them in a blue medical suit. John stiffened as the man approached oozing Sloth and Gluttony. He was a thin man with beady eyes and shaggy brown hair and John would have bet his life that was Anderson. What was that moron doing Above? Last he'd heard the man was sulking in his palace after John had rejected him for the last time. Threating to burn him should he so much as even send a greeting card on his Birthday. John slunk behind Sherlock, mentally berating himself for acting cowardly but he hoping that Sherlock human smell would negate his own demonic one. He took a deep breath and suppressed his inner light. Luckily Anderson zeroed in on the tall man and ignored John's presence. He wasn't sure he could resist not punching the useless waste of space.
"Oh great the freak's here. This is a crime scene and I don't want it contaminated." Anderson hissed at Sherlock with more venom then John had ever known the spineless wimp to ever possess.
"Is your wife away for long?" Sherlock asked innocently.
John looked around the tall man to gaze at Anderson. He had a wife? That thought surprised him. Anderson sneered angrily. "Oh don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that."
"Your deodorant told me." Sherlock exclaimed evenly, as if speaking of the weather. "It's for men."
"Of course it is, I'm wearing it." Anderson hissed his eyes narrowing.
John worriedly glanced at Sherlock not liking how aggressive Anderson was behaving. It was unlike the lazy daemon to so much as life his head; much less have the energy to be angry. Anderson remained him in a lot of ways like his hell hound Gladstone, except John might think twice before drowning his faithful companion; he wouldn't even hesitate for Anderson. Grudgingly John had to admit he was impressed at the change and the man's ability to actually grow a back bone. But why was he Above, married and working for Lestrade? Surely the daemonic Prince knew the Detective Inspector was a Celestial Heir?
"And so is Sargent Donovan." Sherlock hissed smugly, walking past the Prince and flowing into the house. Both persons in question froze with identical looks of horror on their faces. "I'm sure she just stopped for a chat and forgot to leave. And judging by the state of her knees she was also scrubbing your floors."
"A bit not good." John murmured getting people back is fine. He was all for that. But humiliating people in front of their peers was asking for trouble, something John was starting to think Sherlock did often.
Sherlock ignored him and continued on into the house. Lestrade met them at the door, giving John a nod.
"Anderson?" John hissed at the Inspector as he passed.
Lestrade shrugged. "He likes living Above and I promised him protection."
John snorted as he followed Sherlock up the stairs, Lestrade taking up the rear. As John traveled up the stairs he felt death lingering in the air. It wasn't the pleasant natural death but a violent forced one. His stomach twisted. The air was thick with desperation and fear. John shot a glance over his shoulder at Lestrade.
"This isn't normal."
The man only nodded in return as they came to a room on the third floor. A woman in a startling pink outfit lay face down. Sherlock circled her like a hawk. John held out his hand in front of him, quickly drawing a counter-clockwise circle. Greg looked over his shoulder with curiosity.
"Vainglory, Lust and Greed." The words elegantly wrote on his skin. John averted his eyes and lowered his hand, biting his lip. She was destined for Moriarty. The name short circuited his brain.
In a daze John listened to Sherlock smugly ramble off her life and where she was from before asking for a pink suit case. He remembered saying it was amazing and Sherlock puffing up but he was too absorbed in his own chaotic thoughts. His mind re-playing a single image in his mind. Lestrade touched his shoulder and John realized Sherlock had run off. He silently hobbled down the stairs, not even bothering to block his presence from Anderson anymore. No one approached him as he walked down the cold London streets, now thankful the sporadic Detective had left him to his thoughts.
Why did this happen to him? He didn't want a psychopath's attention. At first it had been flattering and in a creepy way a bit sweet but now even the thought made John feel sick to his stomach. Hell's fire John was a decent person, true he was demonic but he did his best. What did he do to deserve a nightmarish fan? John groaned loudly leaning against a red phone booth as it started ringing. He glared at the thing, wishing to send it up in flames. Ignoring the call he started to move away until a black car pulled up and a man hopped out, holding the door open. From inside Athena smiled at him from her BlackBerry. He smiled back weakly and climbed in.
"You weren't answering, it annoyed my employer."
John frowned. "I am not a dog at someone's beck and call."
Athena chuckled. "I believe he is realizing this."
"The second Holmes." John asked but it sounded more like a command.
"Mycroft." Athena supplied.
"How's Mary?" John asked wanting to change the subject because he had a feeling she wouldn't tell him where they were headed.
"She'd good."
"And?"
"Doing just fine."
John settled back in the leather seat. He wanted to spill his worries to her, wanted to ask if the desire to kill was so wrong but he stayed silent. Angry at himself for being a coward. The pulled up to a warehouse, as Athena motioned of him to leave. He got out and raised any eyebrow. Mycroft had set up a tea table and two red leather chairs. The man in question was already sitting up rose up and hurried to pull out the other chair for John. Not willing to sit down for many reasons the main being he was prince not princess, John glared at the thin man who smiled at him.
"Have a seat." It wasn't a question. Why was always the first thing this man said to him? He was crippled but he didn't need to be coddled.
"What is this?"
"When one wishes to avoid the attention of Sherlock one must take special measures."
"For tea? I have a phone, you could have called. On. My. Phone." John supplied as the car fled leaving him alone in a brightly lit warehouse with a tea table and crazy human.
"He's become very loyal to you. Very fast and my brother has many issues so I wanted to see what was so special about you."
John starred up at Mycroft until the man moved away from his chair and went back to his own. Elegantly pouring them both a cup of tea. Earl Grey, it was his absolute favorite and John bet Athena had told Mycroft that. He reluctantly sat down at took the offered cup with a nod. He deeply breathed in the aroma and smiled as he took a sip.
"What do you want to know?"
Mycroft's eyes twinkled over his cup and John shifted not liking the look. Like he was a bunny and Holmes was the wolf. "What makes you tick?"
"My heart." He answered quickly causing Mycroft to chuckle.
"True but what brings a man out of his quite life and into Sherlock's."
"He was the one who assumed I needed a flat mate."
"And do you?" Mycroft purred.
"I would like to be around others. My past involvement with people was only ever professional." John said, which was true, he only ever spoke to the humans to condemn them, not that he enjoyed it.
"Understandable." Mycroft said as they slipped into a comfortable silence.
It was strange sitting at the table with Mycroft sipping on Earl Grey tea in an empty warehouse and John had to suppress a bubble of giggles that threatened to escape his lips. If he thought about it this almost felt like a date. A very odd date but then again he wasn't all that normal and he kinda liked this. It was comfortable and he couldn't recall the last meal he had eaten with anyone other than Mary or Athena.
"Is this a date?" he blurted out and the moment those words left his mouth he wished he could have slapped himself.
Mycroft looked over his tea cup with a sultry smile. "Depends if you want it to be Doctor Watson."
"Just John please."
"John." Mycroft said slowly, tasting the name on his tongue.
Mycroft set his china cup down and laced his fingers together before resting his chin on them. His eyes where dark in the dim lighting and John felt the air from his lungs catch in his throat. He swallowed and took a nervous sip of his tea. Mycroft wasn't intimidating but he made John feel nervous and his stomach to flutter with butterflies. Oh no, No this was not happening to him! John's eyes widened as he continued to stare at Mycroft slowly piecing the puzzle. John panicked and stoop up, knocking over his chair and scrambling away. At least he tried to scramble away but his damn leg decided to cramp at that moment and he tripped. Mycroft was son his feet and walking towards John with a look of concern.
"John!"
John held up his hand to stop the man. "You….you stay over there."
Mycroft frowned as if not understanding but kept his distance none the less. The black car pulled up and John turned heel and ran to it. Opening the door and climbing in before slamming it shut. As the car pulled away he caught a glimpse of Mycroft and his sad longing look at the tea table and toppled chairs.
"Smooth John." Athena stared blankly.
"Shut the hell up. I didn't want that. I can't do this." John snarled running a shaky hand through his hair. Athena ducked behind her smart pnone ashamed she had upset her Prince. "Not...not after last time."
John had sworn he'd never have another. Never endanger another and God Damnit he was going to keep his word. All he needed was to find a heir and get the Hell back to hell before he did anything stupid. His mind betrayed him by replaying Mycroft's sad look. John groaned and hung his head against the cold window. What in God's name was wrong with him?
Thank you for reading!
Yeah 6 reviews!
Issyapir- hahah I hadn't thought about Sherlock being Constatine but now that you mention it I kinda like that idea…hum we will see! Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you liked it
LittleMissDreamer7- *waves back* Yeahhhhh haha seven is a good number! And thank you I like to think its original too!
LittleMissDreamer7- YOU DID 2 reviews I was uber excited! Yeah It's was Brilliant!
Yuki- of course of course! COOKIES! Yeah ok so here's the next ch, sorry it took longer!
Icy Sapphire15- I think of blue cupcake icing when I see your username and it makes me hungry XD hahah I love that, Yeah John would just shoot him! Ms. Hudson as a fairy I ADORE THAT!
Serpentrose- *groan* I hate that too I mean too much power corrupts and distorts a character and John's strong but not invincible! Well thank you very much I'm happy you approve! *bows*I hope it continues to meet your standards!