A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! So...Do you guys remember The Demon and the Doctor oneshot I did a while back?....well...this is kind of a prequel to that story....it's set back in the 1800's for the most part and is meant to be Sherlock's story as to how he became a demon....be wary..it's kinda angsty...but not very long so good luck!!! Enjoy<3
It was a mistake, Holmes knew that when he did it, but he couldn't help himself. Watson just looked so happy, practically bounding on his toes and trembling with misplaced adrenaline. As soon as the street was empty, Holmes had gripped Watson's elbow and dragged him into a darkened alley, pressing him against the dirty brick and kissing him deeply.
The street hadn't been clear, and now Watson was chained to the walls of the prison.
Holmes's brother had somehow managed to convince Scotland Yard to release Holmes, but was unable to have the charges lifted for his companion.
"This is not your fault Holmes." Watson whispered, reaching through the iron bars of his cell as best he could, to straighten his shirt collar.
"I should have-"
"No. Don't do that, it will do nothing more than upset you."
"You're being here is what is upsetting me." Holmes leaned he head against the cold bars, blinking away tears as he cupped his lover's face. "I will fix this My Love." He whispered, his voice cracking as a tear slipped along his cheek. Watson sniffled, shaking his head and leaning into Holmes's hand.
"I fear there will be no fixing this Holmes. This is the world we live in, and we knew this day would come." Holmes shook his head, the tears falling freely as he wrapped his hand around the back of his lover's neck, gripping tightly.
"I won't lose you John." Watson huffed a soft laugh and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of Holmes' hand, sending a shock of pain straight to Sherlock's heart. "I am going to fix this, I promise you."
"Please promise me that you will mind yourself? I don't want you to neglect your health just because I'm-"
"This is more important than my health John-" Holmes' voice cracked as Watson gripped his jaw tight and held his gaze.
"You know what I mean Sherlock." Holmes sobbed, wanting nothing more than to hold his lover, to find comfort in his arms.
He had to fix this.
"Come on!" Holmes shouted into the night sky, standing in the middle of a roughly drawn pentagram, tears staining his cheeks and whiskey tainting his breath.
"What do we have here?" A strangely melodic voice cut through the night air, making Holmes spin, nearly losing his balance as the alcohol made his head spin. "The great Sherlock Holmes, trying to make a Deal with the Devil?" A man, just slightly shorter than himself stepped forward, his eyes flashing red in the night. "Must be my lucky night."
"This night may be your luckiest, but it is my nightmare."
"Oh, I never said it was my luckiest Dear Holmes."
"I require your assistance in saving my-" Holmes hesitated, glancing around briefly before pushing his shoulders back and meeting the demon's eyes. "-my lover. He is to be put to death in the morning-"
"I hate that word, Lover, makes you seem like a whorish little slag, doesn't it?"
"Will you help me?"
"I know you, Mr. Holmes. I have watched your work." The demon stepped closer, a dark smirk on his lips that sent an unpleasant chill along Holmes' spine. "Is your little pet really worth selling your soul to me?"
Holmes thought back to the first time he met John Watson, the broken, suicidal army doctor that limped into Saint Bartholomew's hospital. He remembered the first time they kissed, a desperate, heated thing stolen in an abandoned house after they had both nearly died.
He recalled the first time he had let Watson take him, when Mrs. Hudson had traveled to her sisters to the weekend, leaving them alone with each other.
His heart broke as he thought of seeing John being put to death because of his mistake.
"Would you give up every touch, every memory, just to see him walk free?"
Pain lanced through his chest as he thought of living with John, no longer able to touch his friend, no longer able to whisper soft words of love across the pillows.
He thought of John free and alive and squared his shoulders, meeting the demon's eyes.
"I will do anything for him." The creature tilted his head, a curious expression on his face as he studied Holmes.
"He will have no memory of you. He will wake up with a wife, kids, memories to fill the spaces, but no you. No one will remember your little companion but you. In return, your soul will be given over to me and in ten years time, I will send my hounds to collect you." Holmes took a steadying breath and nodded, his mind set on saving his Watson.
Even if it meant he had to lose him.
"Where do I sign?"
Holmes stood at the edge of the park, watching the man he still loved playing happily with his young daughter.
It had been ten years since he had heard Watson say his name. Ten years since he had felt the touch of the man he loved.
Ten years since he stood in the middle of the pentagram, sealing his fate with an unpleasant kiss with a demon named Moriarty.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" Watson was speaking to him, grinning at him even though he was a stranger to him. Holmes offered him a slightly pained smile as the chilling sounds of a beast howling split the evening air.
"That it is." He mumbled, tucking his hands in his coat and blinking away tears. "Your child is beautiful." He hid the break in his voice by clearing his throat, his heart shattering at the proud smile Watson sent his daughter. That smile used to be directed at him, followed by words of praise and love.
"She takes after her mother." Watson looked back up at Holmes, a hint of recognition flashing across his face. "Forgive me, but have we met before? Your face seems to bring about a sense of recognition in my mind." Holmes smiled sadly as the sounds of the beast appeared closer than before.
"No, my friend, you don't know me. Perhaps from another life." The panic rising in his chest grew as he felt warm air being huffed across the back of his neck, and he knew his time was up. "I'm afraid I must leave you now. It was a pleasure speaking with you. Enjoy your life, Good Sir."
"And you."
Holmes didn't look back as he allowed the massive dog to lead him away.
In the years that passed, Holmes never forgot about his Watson, no matter how much the demon within him resisted the memories.
As time went on, Holmes and the demon became one, Holmes' spirit fading as the people he had known passed on. The demon eventually became sympathetic of Holmes' suffering, asking questions about Watson and trying to understand why Holmes would give up everything for the other man.
Within a hundred years, Holmes had almost entirely faded, leaving a demon that went by the name Sherlock Holmes.
Then one night, a young med student accidentally summoned a demon using mustard and a slice of bread, and for the first time in nearly seventy years, a voice stirred in the back of his mind.
"John!"
"It's alright Sherlock. It's not 1895 anymore, and it never will be again."
"Thank you, My Dear Watson."
