Love of Heaven and Hell

When You're on the Road

After a while Sherlock stormed out, looking really grumpy with his jacket hanging over his shoulder and his shirt only half buttoned. John tried really hard to ignore that last bit, but his eyes kept wandering, it wasn't his fault, really.
"Aren't you a little ray of sunshine?" John joked and Sherlock just roughly stuffed his pajamas and suit into the duffle bag moodily, like it was such a burden to have to wake up so early.
"Alright, let's get going." John decided as he zipped it up.
"Don't you have to pay?" Sherlock asked curiously.
"I already did, well, technically I didn't, but you know, they think I did." John shrugged.
"Brilliant, I'm traveling with a criminal." Sherlock sighed.
"I have very good intentions." John defended. "If I hadn't scammed them, they might have been eaten by the big bad wolf." Sherlock didn't say anything after that, and John realized that it might not have been the best idea to bring up Victor. The sooner they forgot that creep the better. It was still dark out, with only a sliver of sun coming over the horizon, and there was a thick fog in the air. John practically felt his way through the parking lot and into his bucket of bolts car, because his vision was pretty much useless now.
"This is pathetic." Sherlock grumbled as he got into the car, slouching over and turning on the overhead light so they could see. John turned on the engine and giggled at Sherlock, who looked so miserable it was almost funny.
"Cheer up a little bit why don't you?" John asked. Sherlock didn't say anything or move, for all John knew he might not have heard him. "Come on grumpy." John insisted, tickling under Sherlock's chin just for fun. Sherlock squeaked with laughter, slapping John's hand away, but as soon as John had stopped his childish smile had disappeared and he once again forced a scowl on his face.
"Have it your way then." John sighed, pulling out of the parking lot and hitting the deserted road. There were no cars even on the interstate, and it was unsettlingly quiet. So, being the fun person he was, John turned on music, letting some good ACDC pump through the speakers and singing along to every single lyric there was. Sherlock was pretending to be miserable, pulling his knees up to his chin and closing his eyes, but John could see through the rear view mirror that he occasionally smiled as John struggled to hit the high notes. Soon the sun came up and more and more cars were on the highway, cruising along as carefree as they were. But John wasn't carefree, he only appeared to be, in reality he expected to see hellhounds everywhere he looked, he thought that he'd look out the window and see Matt with black demon eyes dangling from the windshield, waving a contract through the air. John didn't want to think about Hell, about how, well, Hellish, it would be. Torture of the highest extent, heat, misery, and you don't come out until your soul morphs for hundreds of years, finally popping out as one of the slime bag demons to go make other pour souls grant their biggest wishes. He didn't want to leave Sherlock, poor, innocent Sherlock, alone to fend for himself in such a time of desperate need.
"You look thoughtful." Sherlock decided. John nodded, noticing he had stopped singing and was instead watching the road as the morning sun bathed it.
"Oh, I was just thinking about breakfast, are you hungry?" John asked.
"Ya." Sherlock admitted.
"Tired?" John added.
"Definitely." Sherlock sighed.
"Well get over it, we're not doing much today anyway." John shrugged.
"Why are we leaving anyway?" Sherlock asked.
"I told you, to get rid of that demon." John pointed out.
"I thought he was here to help." Sherlock debated.
"No, they're never here to help, unless it benefits them, there is always a price." John pointed out.
"And what are we supposed to pay?" Sherlock asked.
"Nothing, that's why he's not helping, there is something much bigger in play here." John guessed.
"What is it?" Sherlock asked.
"If I knew we'd be hunting down that stupid demon." John sighed, pulling off at the nearest exit. He didn't know, not all of it. Why would a demon try to save Sherlock when it was him who had made the deal, and why hadn't it been fulfilled? It was a simple enough desire, and still he had not obtained the one thing that he so desperately wanted.
"McDonalds good or do you want to stop at a diner?" John asked.
"It's been so long since I've had good food, let's stop at the diner." Sherlock decided after a moment's thought.
"I was thinking the same thing." John sighed, but actually he wasn't. Quick and easy would've been ideal, he didn't want to stop and let this demon catch them when they were eating. Demons didn't have this problem, they didn't eat. It wasn't too hard to find a diner, it seemed like every town had one. So they stopped, loading out of the car and joining the steady stream of old people out the door. It was all a church crowd evidently, it was Sunday and they had been driving an awful while, it was the elderly's morning out. Sherlock and John were walking in front of these two old people who were really adorable in old people way, like they had walkers and wrinkling skin and all but they made such an effort to look nice and looked like they were having the time of their life just being out of the house. Anyway, John and Sherlock were like a good twenty feet in front of them and John walked right in before noticing that Sherlock was still at the door, holding it open for the old people and helping them get their walker in through the thin door frame. John was pretty sure he had accidently stumbled across Jesus. Sherlock had obviously made the old people happy, and John was leaning against those grimy old claw machines smiling proudly at him as they passed through.
"He's a real gentleman." croaked the old lady to her husband. "Why couldn't you be more like that?"
"Margret I have a walker, I can't use my hands!" defended the old man as they walked into the restaurant, looking like they were going to have an old marriage fight. John just laughed, if only he could've lived to such a ripe age where he could yell at his significant other and hit them with the tennis balls on his walker. Sherlock bounced back over, looking very proud of himself.
"Why are you so saint-like?" John asked with a laugh.
"I'm not saint-like, it's called a good deed, you should try it one time." Sherlock pointed out.
"Still grumpy I see." John laughed.
"No, just a bit irritated." Sherlock admitted. John just laughed, getting them a table for two and sitting down in a booth, sitting across from each other.
"Anything on your mind then?" John asked.
"Waffles." Sherlock decided.
"Oh, that sounds nice. I prefer pancakes really, but whatever." John admitted. Sherlock must've glared at him for a whole minute, as if that had been a personal insult.
"What can I get for you fellas today?" asked a waitress that seemingly flew out of nowhere. She was just as old as the diner's residents but still mobile, happily tapping a pen to her notebook a bit impatiently.
"An orange juice for me please." John decided.
"I'll have orange juice and a hot chocolate please." Sherlock said with a little smile.
"Alright, I'll be back with those shortly." The waitress decided, shuffling away.
"Hot chocolate? Sherlock we're on a budget!" John insisted.
"No we're not." Sherlock pointed out. John groaned, but smiled a little bit. It was true, they really weren't on a budget, but still the face that Sherlock very well might get a hot chocolate mustache was probably too much for John to handle in one morning.
"So, where are we going?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh I don't know, pick I state." John shrugged.
"So you don't even know?" Sherlock exclaimed.
"If I know then the demon could probably figure it out as well. No, it's better to have no plan at all." John decided.
"I don't really agree with that." Sherlock decided.
"And why not?" John asked.
"Because what if something happens and someone has to reach you? How do they know if you're a continent away or in their backyard?" Sherlock asked.
"My parents hate me, I have no extended family, or at least not that I'm close to, I hate my sister, and I don't have a girlfriend to come crying to me." John pointed out.
"Well maybe that's why you're so grumpy." Sherlock guessed.
"Wait, wait, I'm the grumpy one?" John asked, crossing his arms in front of him to show his disagreement.
"Yes you are, you always complain, you always want to kill stuff, I don't even know if you care about anything but the work." Sherlock pointed out.
"What does that mean?" John snapped.
"Well you had it right there, you have no family or anything, the only thing you care about is your car, your guns, your jacket, sometimes I wonder if you care about yourself!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"It's a hunter's job not to get attached, then you have more to lose." John pointed out.
"Then that's stupid! If you're a hunter you should be happy, it's the most rubbish job in the world and you think you can't have attachments, is that why you didn't like Victor?" Sherlock asked.
"No, of course not, I hated Victor because he was a jerk and a werewolf." John pointed out.
"We didn't know that at the time." Sherlock defended.
"I do care about my family, kind of, I care about myself, and I care about you Sherlock, I don't want anything bad to happen to you." John pointed out, blushing slightly.
"Well that almost makes me feel special. So what are you going to do, dump me on the side of the highway and claim it's safer that way?" Sherlock asked.
"No, I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself and never leave my sight." John corrected. Sherlock sighed, but he looked a bit touched at John's concern. Thankfully he couldn't answer though, because the waitress swooped in with their drinks. Sherlock looked pretty excited that his hot chocolate was topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a cherry, like a little kid at a birthday party.
"So, food for y'all?" the waitress asked.
"Oh, yes, I'll have the cheese omelet with hash browns and bacon." John decided. The waitress nodded, scribbling stuff down.
"And for you dear?" she asked.
"Waffles, please." He decided.
"Any specific type?" she asked.
"Didn't you look at the menu?" John hissed.
"Um, just regular." Sherlock muttered, looking like a deer in the headlights.
"Alright, I'll take those from you and I'll be back soon." She decided, shuffling away hurriedly. Sherlock took a cautious sip from the hot chocolate, and when he put the cup down John's heart lurched, realizing there was a spot of whipped cream on his nose. Oh why, why did he have to be so darn adorable?
"Um, you've got a little..." John said, pointing his finger at his own nose.
"What?" Sherlock asked.
"Whipped cream!" John pointed out.
"Where?" Sherlock asked, pawing around his mouth to try to find it.
"On your nose." John said with a little laugh. Sherlock wiped it off quickly, looking embarrassed. There was nothing to be embarrassed of, of course, but Sherlock looked self-conscious, as if he made one wrong move John really would dump him on a highway.
"So, where do you want to go?" John asked.
"Which way are we headed?" Sherlock asked.
"East." John pointed out. Sherlock thought for a moment.
"Let's go to New York. It's really pretty up there, or at least I've heard." Sherlock decided.
"Just so you know, I can't afford the city." John warned.
"Oh god, I don't even want to go to the city! No, I want to go to the pretty woods and lakes and stuff, New York is a big state." Sherlock pointed out.
"I've only been there once, on a possible zombie case. It wasn't a zombie, it was actually an old Pagan God, posing as... never mind." John sighed.
"Pagan gods are real?" Sherlock asked in amazement.
"I guess so." John shrugged.
"This world really is full of surprises." Sherlock decided.
"Yes, yes it is." John decided. Their food came a little bit later, and they ate in silence. John couldn't help but watch as Sherlock struggled to cut his waffles, and offered to help on many occasions but Sherlock insisted he got it. What was he trying to say, that John didn't care? Was he accusing him of something, did he think that John could never actually like him? Because he did, God knows John loved Sherlock beyond anything.
"We should get going then." John decided as he got his credit card back. He was worried about how much ground the demon had covered in so little time.
"Sounds good." Sherlock decided, getting up from the booth with a satisfied sigh. John followed, and smiled at the cashier as Sherlock took a lollypop. They went back to the car, but Sherlock ended up throwing the candy out the window because he had gotten fruit punch, which, according to him, was the worst flavor there could possibly be.
"To New York we go." John decided, gunning the engine and speeding off down the highway.