Love of Heaven and Hell

Goodbye From the Other Side

"You don't have to stay you know, you don't have to put yourself in danger." John pointed out with a quivering voice. Sherlock shook his head stubbornly, tightening his grip on John's hand.
"If we go down, we go down together. I don't care if they hurt me, as long as you don't have to die alone." Sherlock assured. That pushed John over the breaking point, the tears he's been trying to hold back came spilling over like a broken dam and he pushed his way through the mess of guns to throw his arms around Sherlock's shoulders, sobbing loudly on his shoulder.
"I'll go to Hell and back and I'll still never deserve someone like you." John exclaimed. Sherlock held John closer, and John could feel tears of Sherlock's joining the downpour.
"You know I'd never leave you." Sherlock assured. "I love you John." he admitted.
"I love you too Sherlock, I love you so much." John agreed, tightening his hug.
"No, you don't understand." Sherlock decided, recoiling ever so slightly so that they could look each other in the eyes. "Victor, Matt, the guy in the restaurant, I never loved them like I love you, this isn't just some feeling I have, this is pure, my heart aches with it, I love you so much that I will wait with you here, and I will get you back." Sherlock insisted.
"I've always loved you, but Sherlock, don't sell your soul. I'm begging you, it's not worth it, do anything else, but don't put yourself in danger or I'm staying down there." John insisted. he glanced at the clock, 11:16, eighteen more minutes left.
"Don't look at that, look at me John." Sherlock insisted. "Just look at me." he repeated. John saw tears running down his face once again, bleeding from his beautiful green eyes and spilling over his cheekbones. "It's been brilliant, you've opened me to worlds I'd never before imagine, you showed me the true evil but also the true wonder and goodness of this world. You're the best and the bravest man I've ever met John, and I'll never find someone I feel the same about again." Sherlock decided.
"That sounds too much like a goodbye." John decided.
"That's because it is." Sherlock sighed.
"Well then, I guess I should say that I'd never had a companion, and maybe at first I wasn't too keen on taking someone around with me, but if there was anyone on this Earth that was more fit to be with me I wouldn't want to meet them because you are by far the more amazing person I've ever met." John admitted. He didn't really care what Sherlock thought anymore, now he only had fifteen minutes left to be cramped in this bathroom. He pressed his lips once more onto Sherlock's, more of a goodbye kiss than anything, but it still spread warmth and magic that John only felt once before. He did love him; he loved him so dangerously that it was worth going to the pit for.
"I think, in the end, I did get what I wanted." John decided.
"I pieced it together long ago John, I guess you were just..." Sherlock wiped a tear form his face, "You were just too thick to see it."
"What did you piece together?" John asked curiously.
"You sold your soul to a demon for your soulmate, and a couple weeks before a demon wears my body over to you and you get it out without even an exorcism. Then, it protects us from the werewolf and even shows up to illuminate the threat, Victor. It wasn't protecting us from the goodness of its heart; it made sure we ended up together no matter what, so you do end up getting what you want." Sherlock admitted, more tears flowing now.
"You're my soulmate?" John asked with careful amazement.
"If that makes any sense, yes." Sherlock muttered.
"It doesn't matter anymore; I'd be yours even if you weren't my soulmate, even if you were nothing to me. I love you." John repeated.
"Ya, you said that already." Sherlock said with a tearful little laugh. Nine more minutes left.
"I'm so sorry you had to see this, I really am, I don't want to scare you." John decided.
"I'm not scared." Sherlock assured.
"I am. Sherlock, I'm terrified, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. There seems to be nothing I can do anymore, I think I'm doomed." John admitted.
"I would say that I understand, but I really don't." Sherlock admitted, the last smile appearing on his face that John would ever see. Five minutes left.
"Are you ready then?" John asked in a quivering voice.
"No." Sherlock admitted.
"Me neither." John agreed. They stared into each other's eyes one last time, and John was tempted to kiss him one more time, but he realized there were only four more minutes left.
"Get in the corner." Sherlock decided, pushing John back farther into the corner and giving him numerous weapons. Sherlock placed himself right next to John, holding his hand tightly and loading his weapon. Three more minutes. John could hear a growl coming from somewhere, low, distant, but very vividly an unearthly growl. His blood ran cold and shivers raced up and down his spine, this was it, these were his last few precious moments on earth. More growls, John looked at Sherlock, who was shaking with fear as well.
"It's okay Sherlock, stay calm; it will all be over soon." John said with a quivering voice.
"I don't want you to get hurt." Sherlock admitted. More growls, closer, they must be right outside the hotel room.
"I know, I don't want to get hurt either." John admitted. One more minute left, the growling continued. The seconds ticked, they slipped through like water droplets, the three turned to a four, and there was a tremendous crash from inside the room. Now both men were crying, they knew the salt wouldn't hold them for long, there was nothing they could do...
"Goodbye Sherlock." John sobbed, holding his gun up the best he could, aimed at the door.
"Goodbye John." Sherlock agreed. There were scratching at the door, barking, growling, heavy bodies smacking into the wood and knocking the hinges farther and farther from the wall. Their clammy hands held each other's with fear, fingers interlocked, but John knew that there was no holding on now. Finally the door broke down, the broken wood falling with a thud onto the bathroom floor and four large dogs, the size of lions, all with matted black fur and red demon eyes came rushing in, barking and growling, their claws the size of kitchen knives and their teeth as wicked as sharp iron. John and Sherlock opened fire, but nothing stopped the dogs from coming, they kept approaching, some whimpering, but they didn't pay Sherlock any attention. The demon creature's eyes were only fixed on John, who was now firing as many rounds as he could without any purpose. It wasn't long before one of the beast's jaws clamped around his ankle, sending the worst most excruciating pain flaring through him.
"John!" Sherlock screamed, but he couldn't see the hellhounds, he only saw an empty room, so he didn't know where to shoot. John was pulled from his hiding place, gripping Sherlock's hand as a lifeline as his gun fell from his hand.
"Sherlock!" he called, but the dogs got to him first. He kicked, he squirmed, but their teeth, their claws, they raked across his chest and clamped on his neck, John screamed for his life as he spewed blood like a fountain, clinging to life but not finding the strength to fight back. It took one last shred to the heart to silence John's screams, for his cold fingers to slip from Sherlock's, and just like that, at 11:35, the hunter John Watson was gone.     

         Sherlock sat there for a good hour, staring at the body of his dead friend, huddled sobbing in the corner, his weapon forgotten at his feet. He couldn't move, he didn't want to move, there was something missing from his life now that he didn't have the blonde to cheer up his days. The hazel eyes that lit his heart were cold and unseeing, the blonde hair that reflected the light was speckled in its owner's scarlet blood, the once muscular and confident body was torn to shreds as if it were no more than a piece of paper. The blood soaked through Sherlock's clothes, it pooled around him as if trying to remind him once more that the only love he had ever had was dead in front of him. After a couple of hours he final heaved himself up, throwing up into the bathtub for a little while but then stepping over the corpse of his friend. The hounds were long gone, but there was no hope for the hotel room anymore. Salt was spewed everywhere, both doors were now nothing more than scrap wood, and the only life the room had was now dead on the floor. His heart was only an empty hole, his soul was long since gone, and the only emotion that filled Sherlock's tortured body was pain and suffering and loss. That morning Sherlock took John's leather jacket, which was miraculously untorn, and put his arms in the sleeves, letting the blood soak through into his own clothes as if becoming one with John Watson. He wrapped the body in the sheets from the bed, burying John in a field not far off. He had bought the cheapest wooden coffin he could and dug the hole in the earth himself, marking the grave with only a hastily made wooden cross. Sherlock stared at the body now sitting in the wood, the one that had been so full of life, of love, he would never move again.
Silently he took one last look at his lover before shutting the coffin lid and heaving it into the hole, filling it up with raw earth and staring at the cross.
"Well, John, where ever you are, I suppose this is goodbye." Sherlock muttered, wiping the tears off of his face. "I hope you're thinking of me as much as I'm thinking of you." Sherlock patted the gravestone one last time before walking away, holding the keys in his hand and walking off through the buzzing wildflower field in the blood soaked leather jacket. Hundreds of miles underneath him, through the fiery blackness, a scared, bloody, and beaten John Watson looked up from his row on the rack, the hooks burning into his shoulders and the pain flaring hotter than the fire he slowly cooked over. The smoke clouded his lungs, the heat stung his eyes, and every blade that touched his skin was there for torture. And every time he could he'd open his dry, cracked mouth and scream a fatal plea, the only hope he had left, and he'd scream until his lungs gave out.
"SHERLOCK!" he called. "Sherlock!"  
A/N: Hello guys! So there's the Supernatural fanfiction (it seems like I was just introducing this one though) I guess time flies when you're having fun. Anyway, I hope you liked that one, and I might write a sequel. I already have the plot line in mind, but I don't know. What do you guys think, would you read another one of these? Anyway, coming up next is the largely anticipated story (anticipated by me because I simply can't wait for you guys to read it), the sequel to my Hunger Games AU fanfiction, Luck Goes Both Ways. If you hadn't read that story or forget what happened, I'd be happy to explain everything or give you a quick crash course in the private messages. Like a Fairytale is ending too, one more part, so there might be a bit of a story hole there as I write the one I am now. Still got a hundred or so pages on that one, it'll be a longish one. So, if you liked this story feel free to read the rest of my published works, and stick around for more Johnlock stories! Thanks so much for reading!!!