The Devil Was Never Here

Nightly Negotiations

    John sat down next to Sherlock as well, crossing his legs and tapping his fingers against the armrest.
"So, what now?" he wondered. Sherlock sighed heavily, shrugging and looking towards him curiously.
"No idea, what do you want to do?" Sherlock responded. John shrugged carelessly.
"I don't know." He admitted. This was certainly off to a riveting start. They watched a little bit of TV until around eleven, when they brewed their first pot of coffee. Dispute for their need to stay awake, most of the lights remained off, and they brewed the coffee by the light over the sink. The sound of whatever infomercial was on provided back ground noise in the living room as Sherlock struggled with the coffee maker and John sat idly on a stool.
"So, why don't you talk to your family anymore?" he wondered casually, picking up one of the glamor magazines Molly had sitting in her fruit bowl.
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked with an almost insulted laugh. He looked over John who simply shrugged, going through the magazine carelessly.
"Did something happen?" John asked. Sherlock just sighed, leaning against the counter and watching John curiously.
"Why do you want to know?" he wondered. John looked up at him innocently with big brown eyes, eyes Sherlock found impossible to look away from.
"Conversation?" John said simply. Sherlock just laughed, looking down at his feet and scuffing one of his shoes against the tiled kitchen floor.
"I don't really like to talk about my past." Sherlock admitted.
"Well I'm not judging." John assured. "You can trust me."
"I know I can trust you, it's just...I don't know. I don't want you to think I'm damaged." Sherlock admitted after a moment.
"Damaged?" John wondered. "Why would I think that?"
"I don't know, maybe I'm just being paranoid." Sherlock admitted in a small little voice.
"If you don't want to tell me it's alright, I'm not making you do anything you're not comfortable with." John assured. Sherlock sighed heavily, casting his gaze lazily at the coffee maker before deciding that he might as well just go on.
"It's because of Victor, really." Sherlock admitted. John nodded, obviously becoming a little bit more uncomfortable with the mention of Sherlock's boyfriend.
"Victor, the one who died?" John wondered. Sherlock nodded gravely.
"Before he died, Victor was a little bit...troubled. I think he became obsessed with me, with my abilities and all of that. I loved him of course, and he loved me as well, but I think he thought that I loved death more. He wanted to become part of me, he wanted to be just like me, so he veered down a dark path. He became twisted, he was trying to practice dark magic, and eventually, well, his house caught fire, and none of the family made it out." Sherlock admitted in a sad voice.
"Oh my god, Sherlock, I'm so sorry." John muttered, not knowing what else to say.
"I blamed myself; I'm still convinced that he set that fire himself, that it was his own way to try to overpower death. He probably thought that he could be with me forever if he died, but I haven't seen him since. His soul is just...gone. It has been since the fire." Sherlock admitted.
"Where do you think he went?" John wondered nervously.
"I don't know, I still don't know, and I don't really want to find out. I don't want to know where he is, because I'm afraid that wherever it is, it's dark." Sherlock admitted.
"You think he went to Hell?" John wondered. Sherlock sighed heavily, but he nodded nonetheless. It was painful to admit these things, painful yet strangely therapeutic.
"Anyway the whole town discovered everything, if they didn't know already. They found out that I had been dating Victor; they found out about my abilities, they kind of cast me aside as a freak. I blamed myself for Victor's death, for basically leading him down the road to insanity, and a lot of people agreed. My parents tried to insist that this meant it was time to move on, that maybe I should just go to college and get a girlfriend and try to ignore the dead. They tried to change me into something that I wasn't. When I refused they decided that I was probably better off somewhere else, and they kicked me out. Of course I went gladly, and I haven't gone back since." Sherlock admitted.
"It wasn't your fault." John said quickly, as if he had been programmed to make Sherlock feel better.
"In a way, John, it was." Sherlock insisted.
"No. It wasn't your fault that he got obsessed with death; he was the one that started the fire, not you. All you did was love him, and he abandoned you!" John exclaimed. Sherlock blinked, wondering why John was getting so aggressive right now. It wasn't like he was personally affected by all of this.
"It's alright John, like I said, it was a long time ago." Sherlock assured. John nodded, looking rather ashamed for having gotten all worked up over nothing.
"Yes, I'm sorry, you're right." John agreed. "It was a long time ago." It was funny, how they insisted that time healed these wounds cut open by fire. It was almost pathetic, how humans tried to justify accidents by the number of years that had passed since. It was almost like they were trying to cover up their scars with words and the others only shielded their eyes because they didn't want to see the pain that had been inflicted, even if it really had been so long ago. The coffee maker buzzed, interrupting their conversation just in time. John sat at the counter and tried to decide what had gotten into him to make him burst out like that, and Sherlock took this opportunity to finally look away from John for a moment. Not that he didn't like looking at John; it was quite the contrary, actually. John was beautiful, he was a rare specimen and Sherlock could undoubtedly spend hours gazing at him. It was just...Molly's warning rather matched the priest's; they matched in ways that Sherlock didn't want to admit. Molly warned Sherlock that John was married, and Father Franklin told them to remember the Ten Commandments. Obviously he was worried that they would dare to have an affair, therefore sinning the human spirit and making it easier for the Aspiration to take full control. That must have been why he was so surprised to hear that John had a family, because he had automatically assumed that they were together. Was Sherlock's attraction really so obvious, or was it someone else's attraction, was John being more obvious than Sherlock? Sherlock looked over his shoulder very quickly, seeing that John was now reading some sort of article out of the magazine, looking bored out of his mind. Was he actually attracted to Sherlock, was everyone picking up on it? That would be why Molly was so quick to warn Sherlock, she thought that he had no self-control, she thought that tonight would be the perfect night for John to make a move...Sherlock's hand shook rather violently, and the sugar that he was pouring dumped all over the counter in front of him.
"Oh d**n it." Sherlock snapped, pushing the sugar aside and looking around for a sponge or something to mop up the mess with.
"Oh, good job." John said with a laugh, hopping off of the stool and making his way over to help. Sherlock finally found a weird green sponge sitting in a frog shaped ceramic dish, wetting it and cleaning up the sugar the best he could. Meanwhile John moved the coffee out of the way, trying to brush the excess sugar onto his hands for easy disposal.
"Are you alright?" John wondered, brushing his hands off on his jeans and looking at Sherlock curiously. Sherlock could only stare back, feeling a shiver go down his back as their eyes locked in the semi-darkness. He had to ignore his heart right now, he had to listen to his brain, his brain was telling him that this was bad, and it was right, of course. He couldn't help John sin, not now, not ever.
"Ya, I'm fine." Sherlock agreed, throwing the sponge back at the general direction of the frog dish. John just smiled, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb and walking back around the counter once more.
"Well your coffee is on the counter there, hope it's not too sugary for you." He said with a shrug, obviously finding it very easy to just walk away from Sherlock's gaze. Maybe Sherlock was right, and people were reading too much into it. Maybe he was being paranoid for no reason at all.
"It will only help in the long run." Sherlock assured, taking a sip and wincing. John was right, it was very sweet.
"Have you read any of these fashion magazines? They're actually quite interesting, they're trying to predict the next fad by monitoring celebrities." John muttered, flipping to another page and frowning.
"Says here that the trend for next January is..."
"Knitted sweaters with red lipstick." Sherlock sighed, taking another sip and rolling his eyes. "They're always wrong."
"I see that you do read them then." John muttered, sounding impressed as he closed the magazine and pushed it back towards the bowl.
"I've got to keep up with the gay stereotype someway." Sherlock agreed with a little laugh. John nodded, poking at his coffee timidly and stealing a glance up at Sherlock, almost as if he felt he wasn't allowed to look.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" John wondered rather timidly. Sherlock just raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused as to why it would matter. John still didn't make eye contact, as if he were too ashamed of asking to look at Sherlock while he answered.
"Well it didn't really come up, did it?" Sherlock defended, leaning on the counter once more.
"It could've." John said in a small voice, taking another sip just to give his hands something to do other than shake.
"Why would it matter? I don't see how it changes anything." Sherlock defended.
"Well it doesn't matter really, but you know, I feel like it's a big part of who you are, and I mean, we're friends, we're supposed to know things about each other." John said with a shrug, trying to play it off as if this were no big deal to him. If he was going through the effort of bringing it up over coffee then obviously it did matter to him, at least a little bit.
"Well you know just about everything about me by now. What about you? What are you hiding under all of those smiles?" Sherlock asked curiously. John just laughed, shaking his head and taking another sip.
"Oh well, there's actually nothing more to me. I'm quite a boring person." John admitted.
"You're a doctor, that's not boring." Sherlock defended.
"Well it can be, I'm not an ER doctor or anything, I do a lot of checkups and that sort of thing." John shrugged.
"Seen anyone die before?" Sherlock wondered. John just dropped his head, clearing his throat a little bit as if Sherlock had asked exactly the wrong question.
"I'm sorry; you don't have to answer that." Sherlock assured quickly, feeling relatively bad just for bringing it up.
"No, it's fine it's just, yes, I have seen someone die. It's not really something I want to go through again." John admitted. Sherlock nodded gravely, sipping at his coffee innocently and trying to think of something to change the subject with. John was staring at the counter but he obviously wasn't seeing anything, he was in his head, reliving the tragedy.
"So, Mary. How did you meet Mary?" Sherlock asked quickly. John blinked, looking up at Sherlock with a sort of lost expression.
"Oh, Mary?At work." He said simply. Sherlock nodded, sipping at his coffee and trying to motion to John to elaborate.
"She was a nurse at the clinic I worked at, she was very sweet." John admitted.
"How long have you been together?" Sherlock asked.
"Nearly five years now, it was a quick wedding. We both decided that we were perfect for each other very early on." John admitted. He looked rather uneasy, as if he didn't like talking about his past, as if it bothered him. Once more it was time to change the subject.
"Very nice." Sherlock agreed.
"How did you meet, uh...Victor?" John asked quickly, obviously trying to continue the conversation without realizing where he was trying to go. Sherlock blinked in surprise, and John idled there for a moment, as if he finally realized what he had said. Obviously a desperate attempt for conversation had turned into yet another tragic backstory.
"Want to go to the living room?" John asked before Sherlock could respond.
"Ya, probably a good idea." Sherlock agreed. John nodded, leading the way into the living room and taking a seat on the couch. Sherlock followed him in slowly, watching John through the very low light of the single lamp and the TV.
"Let's sit on the floor; it's less comfortable that way. I feel like I'll fall asleep." Sherlock decided, settling himself on the floor so that his back was resting against the couch.
"Good idea." John agreed, collapsing onto the floor with a thud. Sherlock watched the TV with boredom, there were still infomercials on, the lame ones that they only play late at night. It was some kind of mop, he wasn't really paying attention. It was what sat next to him that interested him, John was sitting very close, it was just where he landed, but still. Sherlock could hear his breathing, he could feel his warmth, he could sense the temptation...Sherlock shook his head, taking a long sip of his coffee before putting it up on the coffee table next to the Monopoly board.
"So how long do you think it's going to be until I get this Aspiration out of me?" John asked, looking over at Sherlock with a very soft look. Sherlock just shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them closer, curling into a little ball of Sherlock.
"I don't know, the Father said that it could take weeks for the Aspiration to try to take full control. But if we repress it then maybe it will help. Maybe it would be like shaking up a can of soda, once the spirit decides to come out, well, it explodes." Sherlock suggested.
"That doesn't sound very nice, I don't want to explode." John admitted with a frown.
"We'll keep it under control John; you've got the easy part. As long as we don't extract your soul instead everything should be fine." Sherlock assured.
"It sounds much too easy." John muttered apprehensively.
"Oh really? Have your other demonic possessions been more difficult?" Sherlock wondered with a laugh. John just shook his head, as if wondering why he even bothered.
"I'm just saying, it seems like this whole possession business is much too complicated for the end result to be that simple." He defended. Sherlock sighed, but nodded, watching as the man with the mop cleaned up some sort of spilled wine on the floor.
"It's not going to be simple, I'm quite sure of that. Father Franklin said that the ritual itself was nearly impossible, not to mention all of the technicalities." Sherlock admitted.
"What do you mean by that?" John wondered.
"Well, it has to be in the place that the Aspiration died, right? What if we get it wrong, what if she was torched in the front yard and then ran into the house to die? What if she made it to a hospital?" Sherlock wondered. John nodded nervously, starting to look less worried about the simplicity of it all.
"Well if it goes wrong at least we've got a backup plan." He decided in a rather small voice.
"You almost sound like you want to die, like you find dying an easier path than living." Sherlock decided, looking over at John with fearful eyes.
"I look at death as something of a failsafe. If nothing works in my life it's only too easy to just end it, to sleep in darkness forever." John said with a shrug.
"But that's not right John, humans have death all mixed up." Sherlock insisted, repositioning himself so that he was sitting cross legged on the floor, facing John.
"Death isn't just sleep, it's wandering. Most of the souls I've met wander until they go mad, I have seen no evidence of either Heaven or Hell, the best woman I've ever known is still on earth long after her death, and some horrible men that hang around the local bars are still here as well." Sherlock insisted.
"Maybe because they chose to stay." John defended
"The only person who's ever disappeared from my sight was Victor and his family." Sherlock admitted.
"Well they have to go somewhere, right? If the dead didn't disappear then they would be over crowded, imagine if every single human soul was wandering around the streets, you'd see them all, you'd suffocate!" John defended. Sherlock nodded, he had a point of course.
"But how do they know when their time on Earth is up?" Sherlock wondered.
"When they finish this business I suppose. Who's the woman, your landlady, right? You said that she had died?" John guessed.
"Well yes, but she stayed behind for me, to take care of me." Sherlock agreed.
"That's her unfinished business then, you. She stayed behind to make sure you were taken care of even after she was dead." John pointed out. He repositioned himself as well, sitting cross legged across from Sherlock with his eyes sparkling.
"And the men, outside of the bar, they all died from gang violence, from gunshot wounds and broken glass gashes." Sherlock pointed out reluctantly.
"Then they feel the need to get revenge, that's their unfinished business. That's why these spirits are still around; they probably get a choice to stay or to go." John guessed, an excited smile stretched across his lips. Sherlock examined the carpet doubtfully, plucking at the individual threads and trying to think of the logic that debunked John's theories.
"That would make sense of course, but they've never told me any of that." Sherlock defended.
"Then maybe they don't realize they're given a choice. Maybe it's based off of your last thoughts. If as you're dying you're wishing you could stay longer, or you're inflicting your wrath upon someone, then maybe you're excluded from the waiting list. Maybe God and Satan let you stay a bit longer until finally you've completed your personal vendetta?" John pointed out excitedly.
"That's an interesting theory John, very interesting. It would make sense though, that's why some of the dead just go crazy, that's why they stick around, they're too far gone to actually do their business. And the smarter ones, they hold on so that they can. It would all make sense of course, except for Victor." Sherlock said with a thoughtful frown.
"Well maybe he thought he was ready to die, maybe he accepted it?" John suggested.
"No, but he died for me, he wanted to be with me forever. I was his unfinished business; I don't see where he could've gone if not following me around." Sherlock defended. John sighed, but shrugged hopelessly. There was of course the question that maybe Victor's death wasn't caused by Sherlock after all, or possibly that Victor didn't love Sherlock as much as he had previously assumed. But that was impossible, and Sherlock knew it to be so. There was nothing on this earth that Victor loved more than Sherlock, and the only reason he wouldn't be following Sherlock around would be if he were otherwise occupied.
"Well, maybe we'll figure that out when we're dead." He decided. Sherlock nodded in agreement, taking another sip of his extremely sugary coffee and dropping his gaze to the floor.
"Yes, maybe someday." he agreed finally, his brain pulsing in confusion. Thankfully the conversation was dropped, even if they didn't know what to move onto. Sherlock could hear John's breathing dispute the noise of the TV, he was so aware of his companion's presence that it was almost difficult not to do something to acknowledge it. But it wasn't as if this silence were awkward, it was just tense. They weren't saying anything because they didn't know what to say, but both had words in their hearts that were clawing to see the light, to escape their lips and speak the truth that they tried so desperately to push deeper and deeper into the darkness. They didn't say those things because they both knew that it was quite unnecessary to ruin a moment like this with the truth, because in time the truth hurts, no matter how precious and necessary it may seem.