"John what is going on?" he asked, his voice quivering. I knew he would never kill me, but he might kill Sherlock, and that was just as bad if not worse.
"He's real!" I said with an almost maniacal laugh, hugging Sherlock from behind. Sherlock didn't let his guard down though; he didn't want me to get hurt.
"Who is he, where is the rest of him?" Greg demanded. His face was pale and terrified; to see his best friend kissing a partially formed boy over the body of a dead man must not be something you're supposed to be prepared for. The worst that was supposed to come between us were girls, not murders.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes; I'm the voice inside the book." Sherlock explained. "Please, put the gun down so we can talk this out." Greg didn't move though, he looked, if possible, even more terrified.
"You're the psychopath!" he declared, pointing out the obvious really. Of course Sherlock was the psychopath; this was his bloody cave lair.
"Can we please do this like civilized human beings?" Sherlock begged.
"You're no human." Greg decided.
"He answered our questions, but he's so much more than that! The last month I've dedicated to talking to him, coming to Hogwarts with him." I pointed out, smiling tauntingly at Greg.
"You mean he was in the book?" Greg asked.
"It's a complicated story that I'd be perfectly happy with sharing with you, just please, don't hurt John." Sherlock insisted.
"He's dangerous!" Greg yelled.
"No he's not." I assured.
"John please, you need to trust me this one time. Your parents are worried sick about you, he's a murderer get away!"
"He only killed because he had to, that's what they don't put in the articles."
"Why did you come down here?" Sherlock asked, raising his hands to show that he was unarmed.
"Your mom sent for me, sobbing for me to go find you, she's worried sick." Greg pointed out.
"Don't you see I don't care about that anymore? I don't need her, Dad, even you, I've got Sherlock now." I pointed out.
"You don't mean that, this isn't you!" Greg defended.
"I haven't been me for a long time; you've been too thick to see it."
"I will shoot him!" Greg defended.
"I'm merely a spirit at the moment; it won't do much until the process is complete." Sherlock sighed. I pulled the gun from my pocket, waving it around in the air for Greg to see.
"Don't be stupid Greg, I'm armed too." I pointed out. The safety was still on, but he didn't need to know that. I wouldn't shoot Greg either, even though he was nothing to me now he was still my best friend, and I couldn't have that weight on my shoulders. The truck driver was nothing, a pawn in this complicated yet magical game of chess.
"You're William Holmes, the man who killed those six people?" Greg asked.
"That is me." Sherlock agreed.
"What do you want with John?" he demanded.
"We met in the book, and I'm pleased to say we have what you would call a bond now." Sherlock admitted.
"I love him." I clarified, my voice strong and confident. I didn't want to hide behind Sherlock, but it seemed like if I tried to move he would just move with me. The scared boyfriend, it warmed my heart.
"As do I." Sherlock agreed. Greg simply stared at us, and I saw something of doubt across his face. He was starting to except that I was more than just a puppet in the hands of human nature. I could think for myself, and this is who I am, I belong to Sherlock, I was a different, free person.
"Greg go home, tell mom I'm fine, and that I'm bringing a friend home." I decided.
"He's not going anywhere." Greg insisted.
"Don't make this get ugly." Sherlock begged.
"I think it already has." Greg decided, and with that he fired the gun. I ducked, trying to pull Sherlock down with me, but I was too late. The bullet hit Sherlock in the forehead, shooting out the back of his head, but he stayed standing.
"I told you I cannot die, not until I get my life." Sherlock pointed out, his eyes flickering to the truck driver.
"Don't hurt him Greg! Please!" I called, pulling Sherlock by the shoulders to the ground beside me. Greg was panicked; I could see it in his eyes. His face was pale and sweaty, his hands were shaking but the gun remained pointed at Sherlock's head.
"I have to John, you don't understand, I have to." Greg pointed out. I looked at Sherlock, not liking the fact that I could see straight through his head. Greg hurt Sherlock, he tried to hurt Sherlock, and that just wasn't acceptable.
"No you don't, we don't need violence, not now." Sherlock insisted. He was kneeling on one knee, with one hand he pushed me behind him, making sure I stayed safe and unharmed; the other hand was raised in defense. He was surrendering, but Greg didn't drop the weapon.
"Please Greg; I need him more than you know." I insisted. Greg turned, and a bullet fired with another loud bang. Even though I ducked the bullet never went in our direction. There was now a puddle of blood oozing from the truck driver's head, Greg's aim had been dead on. The light from the book started to glow again, making Sherlock fall to both knees, clutching his chest.
"SHERLOCK NO!"I screamed, scrambling beside him and pulling him close. He had a pained expression on his face, trying not to cry out, but he started to glow as if someone had lit a fire in his body.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Watson." He muttered, letting out a scream as the light flared inside him, cutting his skin apart and vaporizing him on the spot, fading back into the pages of the tattered leather book.
"SHERLOCK!" I screamed, but it was too late, he was gone from this world, and it was all Greg's fault. His fault I could never be with Sherlock, his fault that I had to watch the love of my life in so much pain. All because of Greg.
"We need to get home." Greg decided, lowering his gun. But as he lowered his weapon, I raised mine, clicking the safety off with my thumb and taking deep, angry breaths.
"How could you do this to me?" I demanded, trying to keep myself from breaking down completely.
"Can't you see he was manipulating you? He doesn't love you John; he wanted to break out of the book." Greg pointed out.
"YOU TOOK HIM FROM ME!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the walls of the cave. By now my knees were soaked with the truck driver's blood, but I didn't care at the moment. All I cared about, all I needed was Sherlock, and because of Greg that wasn't an option.
"I LOVED HIM!"
"I'm sorry John, I really am." Greg insisted. I needed to be with Sherlock, and he needed to be with me. There was only one way this was going to end, and it wasn't shooting Greg. It would solve nothing, and even though he was being a self-centered brat he has always been kind to me in the past. He didn't deserve it.
"No, I'm sorry." I decided. Greg looked at me with confusion, but I made my choice. There was nothing this world had to offer me, and there was only one way of being with Sherlock unconditionally. I lowered the gun and pressed it under my chin, with one final smile to Greg, and pulled the trigger.
There was no pain, no suffering at all. One click, one short sleep, and when I opened my eyes I saw sunlight. Bright sunlight I had to shield myself from, but when I adjusted I saw I was sitting on a rock in front of the Hogwarts lake. I didn't regret a single thing when I saw Sherlock sitting next to me, resting his chin on his knees far too casually.
"Joining me then?" he asked.
"Apparently so." I agreed. I didn't want to know what was happening at the cave at the moment, I didn't want to think about anything from that normal, hideous life I used to leave. Now, being here, it's where I was meant to be, not in some muggle world with boring people that only stepped on me.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way." Sherlock decided, sounding tired. The bullet hole was gone; he was normal old Sherlock now, not a care in the world. I felt lighter for some reason; the weight of life had lifted from my shoulders apparently. I stared at my reflection in the lake, not a single scratch indicating my untimely death.
"It's not your fault; it's what I wanted anyway. No one can come between us, there's nothing they can do to stop us now." I pointed out.
"Poor Greg, he'll have to live with this for the rest of his life."
"Well it's his fault. If he didn't go poking around we wouldn't be here now." I defended.
"Still, he didn't deserve it." Sherlock sighed.
"We're here now, and that's all that matters to me."
"Maybe our pasts did interlock, some way. We both killed and died for love." Sherlock shrugged.
"It was meant to be, maybe we were born centuries apart, but I think that it's meant for us to find each other." I decided.
"You do know that you'll be spending eternity here though, in Hogwarts. It's probably going to get really boring really fast." Sherlock decided.
"It's heaven Sherlock, so much better than whatever Earth could provide." I insisted. Sherlock smiled at me, taking my hand in his and leaning back on his elbows, looking over the shining lake.
"I guess it's not all that bad, now that I've got company." he shrugged.
"I'll never leave you, not again, not ever." I pointed out, laying on the rock as well and staring up into the beautiful blue sky. And I never did leave, we spent eternity together, never bother by another miserable human again, and it was the first time both of us could say that we've been truly happy. I may have left some things behind, my friends and family for one, but I gained another, and the fact that one man could replace everyone I've ever known, it was worth dying for. So that's what I did, and never once did I regret it.
A/N: Another story passed, another universe experienced. That story was one of my oddest, I watched the Chamber of Secrets and I was like, wow, this really speaks to me. And I was like, how cool would it be if Sherlock was behind the book and here you have it. And I liked dabbling with the psychopath thing, madness is fun to write, I hope you guys could pick up on John's mental state degrading. Anyway, ya, I hoped you enjoyed this story, feedback is always welcome, and I've got three more stories on their way, so this Sunday (if time permits) you'll have a whole new aspect on the unspoken love of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson :)