Love of Heaven and Hell

Demon Delivery

John didn't have time to think, only to act. He might have been able to suffer through this man, but who knows what type of tortures a demon has cooked up? John couldn't help but feel a little bit relieved though, he would take a demon over some creepy guy any day. John jumped up onto the counter and kneed the demon in the chest, making him stumble just a little bit backwards, but he looked more amused, as if John were a rebellious little kid that had kicked him for more ice cream. John tried to duck around him, but there was only one way out of this place, and Sherlock was blocking it. John wracked his brain for the exorcism, but that wouldn't work unless he had a demon trap, and right now he doubted there was one painted on the ceiling.
"Oh come now John, let's play fair." The demon purred, wiping his jacket of any dust that might have fallen on him in the kick. John was now stance near the shower, ready to jump at any attempt at Sherlock that he could.
"What do you want?" John demanded.
"We demons really shouldn't explain ourselves; I'm simply guiding home a lost sheep." The demon laughed, and the eyes changed back to Sherlock's green ones, which seemed so trapped and innocent now. John knew he had to help that poor soul that was trapped in there, under the control of the demon, of course he wanted nothing to do with John or any of this. John lunged at him, and the demon was too slow. This time it was John who pinned him against the wall, his arm at his neck, strangling him.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immudus spiritus..." John started. It was the Latin incantation that should rid the vessel of the demon, but as soon as he started the demon opened his mouth in a strangled scream. Except it wasn't a scream, John fell back as black smoke poured from his mouth, filling the room and sliding through the air vent, as is escaping. It wasn't gone for good, but hopefully it wouldn't bother John again. The man, Sherlock, if that really was his name, crumpled, his green eyes rolled up into his head, John caught him easily and dragged him to the bed. The man was a lot lighter than John would've guessed, but he had also lost what little color he had in his skin. Now instead of a nice pale look to him he looked ghostly white. John wondered how long he had been possessed, and just why the demon had tracked him down in the first place. John tucked him under the covers, making sure his head was elevated, and took his pulse. There was a dull thudding under his skin, so his heart was still beating at least. John didn't know what type of damage this man might have gone through beforehand, because demons can withstand just about anything. Once they leave their body though, the host is left to die. John locked the door with all three locks it had, shut the curtains, and even stood a chair up to the door handle just in case. Why would a demon go through all of that trouble just to leave without much of a struggle? John had never seen a demon leave so easily, it was like he had just come to deliver a message. Guiding home a lost sheep, what did that even mean? Had the demon led John to anything other than some embarrassment and an umbrella? It kind of did make John feel better now, knowing this whole time that it was a demon. That's why it was so friendly and all and that's why it came after him. John hated demons of course, they were miserable beings and they loved killing innocent people, but if he had to pick between a demon and a human interaction he knew which one he would pick. He didn't like people so much as they were all different. Some were nice and innocent, others were completely deranged, and he didn't like it when a human goes rouge. Every other species is all the same, like demons. All of them wanted to kill everything, there were all evil. Vampires were the same, and spirits, and every other thing John had killed. But humans, human were more unpredictable, and John didn't like that. So how in the world was he supposed to care for this sleeping man in his bed? John groaned, looking at the clock. It was already ten o'clock, so John decided he should get a little bit of sleep. After making sure the door was locked and he had a knife under his pillow John lay down in the other bed, hoping that the man would be okay until morning. But knowing this species, he'll be up as soon as John closes his eyes.

As usual, John was right, well, almost. When the scream woke him up the clock read one o'clock in the morning, so he had at least gotten a couple of hours. John groaned, knowing of course where the scream had come from, and turned on one of the bedside lamps to shed some light on the man. There was a crash, and John saw the blankets falling off the bed as it's occupant rolled for an escape. John got out of his bed, not sure what to do about the man, but he just sat on the edge of his bed and let things play out.