The Devil Was Never Here

The Fires and Familiarity

  "Just be quiet, just stop." Sherlock insisted, pulling his face closer once more, keeping his eyes shut, trying to trap this moment forever in his heart because he knew it was going to be the last time. He knew that the precious lips of John Watson wouldn't be preserved for long. 

"I knew you couldn't." whispered the voice once more, the Aspiration, muttering his voice through Sherlock's parted lips. Sherlock just shook his head, feeling John's body temperature drop, feeling his soul go cold as the Aspiration took control once more. He was filled with a feeling of helplessness, of despair, why couldn't he just have John to himself, why did this all have to end so destructively? But he didn't pull away, he just froze, his lips still glued onto John's as though he couldn't do anything to remove them.
"I knew you were too sentimental." The Aspiration whispered, pulling his lips away ever so slightly, but staying perched on Sherlock, keeping him close and wrapped in his arms like a cage.
"Why didn't it work?" Sherlock whispered weakly, his lips trembling and his heart starting to break into fragments in his chest.
"Sherlock you can't just assume things, you can't just make blind guesses in the dark. You need to consider the impossible, and realize that it is indeed probable." The Aspiration muttered. Sherlock could still feel its fingers tracing its way across his back, leaving bloody trails wherever it pressed against the fabric.
"Nothing is impossible." Sherlock whispered weakly, keeping his eyes shut determinedly. He didn't want to have to look into this thing's eyes; he didn't want to be reminded that it was no longer John Watson who sat so close.
"No indeed, my love." The Aspiration agreed carefully, running a finger through Sherlock's curls and across his hairline.
"What do you want from me?" Sherlock whispered apprehensively, feeling the ghostly finger running down his cheek and across his jawbone. He still didn't open his eyes, but he could feel the breath of the Aspiration getting closer, getting quicker. It was excited, it felt...powerful.
"Only everything you have to offer." The Aspiration purred. Sherlock felt tears threatening to burst from his eyes, but he held them back, he didn't dare open them.
"And if I give it to you?" Sherlock wondered in a weak voice. His words didn't want to escape; he didn't want to have to say them.
"Oh Sherlock, are you trying to sacrifice yourself to me? Are you trying to be the hero?" The Aspiration wondered, sounding intrigued all the same.
"I know you want me; I know...I know that you want to take me down to hell with you. And if I truly belong there, then I'll go. You just need to leave John and his family alone, you take only me." Sherlock demanded. The Aspiration simply laughed, its hand now trailing across Sherlock's chest, its breath dancing off of the side of Sherlock's face, but he wouldn't dare see it.
"It's not that simple Sherlock, all of you pesky little humans must come." The Aspiration whispered.
"But you only need me." Sherlock protested, sitting there obediently as the Aspiration only laughed.
"What makes you think you're so special?" the Aspiration wondered lovingly, its lips hovering very close to Sherlock's ear, pressing itself up against Sherlock's chest and sighing in satisfaction. It was almost as though it simply longed to be this close, as if it had crawled from out of John's body just so sit here on the pavement with Sherlock and breathe his presence in.
"You told me, you said that I came from Hell." Sherlock pointed out.
"But it's not just you! It's humanity! They all must burn, you along with them! They're all sinners, they all deserve the pit!" The Aspiration exclaimed, drawing back so suddenly that Sherlock's eyes flew open, suddenly worried that the spirit would kill him in the same manner as he did with Father Franklin.
"Why do you hate humans so much?" Sherlock demanded, seeing once more the black fog surrounding the both of them.
"Because I was one, and I loved one. And there has never been a feeling so painful than that of a broken heart." The Aspiration whispered, and with that it tore itself away, leaving Sherlock trembling and alone on the blood soaked pavement. He couldn't do anything to stop it, or to even try to move. He was sitting there, paralyzed and numb, watching as the Aspiration got to its feet and looked across the development for a moment, a wide smile stretched across its morbid face.
"Sherlock if you know me you'll find me. If you really want to return to your maker as a hero, then you'll come alone. Accept yourself Sherlock, accept me. It will be easier that way." The Aspiration insisted, and with that it turned and ran down the street, running at an almost inhuman speed before it disappeared into the suburban darkness, leaving Sherlock to lie back down onto the pavement and tremble helplessly next to Father Franklin's cold, dead body.