Someone with my intelligence should have foreseen the negatives of making a deal with the Devil. Yet, here I find myself, Sherlock Holmes, to have become a creature believed only to live in nightmares. A demon. Even in this state, I seek cases of a new variety fitting to these new abilities.
——At nearly half past twelve Mitchell had snuck into the hospital storage room—hoping to steal some more blood bags after he had recently run out. The fluid was cold and viscous in his hand and a churning sensation of need burned it’s way into Mitchell’s throat. He squinted, reading the labels to make sure it was the blood type he preferred before hearing a noise from behind.
“Shite!” He panic-whispered and dropped to his knees, hiding behind a crate of medical supplies.
“Do you really think stealing blood from a hospital goes unnoticed? I would think grabbing people off the streets would be more discrete.” Sherlock looked about the room before focusing his empty eyes upon the cases the man crouched behind. After hearing chatter about a possible group of vampires nearby, it was too good for him to pass. Research was research. A humane blood sucker was a difference he knew was just as strange a position as his own.
Mitchell rose slowly to his feet, blood packet still gripped tightly in his left hand as he nearly gaped upon the demon before him. Finally, he found words.
“Yes, because murder is a more suitable option. Demons have a fucked up view on the world. Just because you have no conscience doesn’t mean you have to got spewing your shite onto other people.” He bit back, eyes narrowing.
Sherlock was not let down; he was all the rumors had said him to be - hot tempered and moral. Interesting. “Despite popular belief, I’ve never killed anyone. Nor would it be said that I’m your ‘typical heartless demon’.” Even if he had indeed once been compared to a machine, he had also had it pointed out that he was not without a heart. A lifetime ago, now. “How is it you fight your nature?” The voice came from behind him now.
Mitchell snorted, feet positioned squarely in a defensive posture. “Yeah, well, I have. It’s not something to be proud of.” He jumped, hissing involuntarily when the voice appeared behind him—the demon relocating himself like a shadow.
“Jesus Christ!” He turned, face-to-face with the demon. “Why do you even care? I don’t want to be a murderer anymore, so I hopped back on the wagon. You treat it like a drug addiction. Because that’s what it is—an addiction.”
Sherlock remained impassive, but that soon broke as a smile crossed his face. "So you are playing human then?" With this new world filled with monsters revealed, there was far more he did not know or understand. Nevertheless, he commended the creature for his interesting use of resources. "How interesting. It must be so odd - Have you been this for a long time? You adapt well, if such. " His interested was peaked. More monsters did just as the rest of their kind did, boring and selfish. But this, this was new.
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond, e.e. cummings
“Well, that’s more a medical condition, probably multiple diagnosable mental disorders, or at least post traumatic stress. But you would have known that.” Being in the same place as the doctor was causing an uncontrollable smile to curl upon his face. Sherlock had spared himself from imagining a confrontation with John, knowing it would only pain him more, but John had not disappointed. He was just as he had left him.
“There you go again, deducing.” John narrowed his eyes, voice low. “Been too long since I’ve heard some real deductions. These hallucinations are becoming more real.” Slowly he backed up, back toward the flat. “But I know you’re not real. I watched you die, Sherlock Holmes. A man doesn’t walk away from his best friend’s death unscathed.” John’s fist clenched into a tight ball and he cleared his throat loudly.
“I didn’t die John. Not then. Not that day.” Sherlock approached him, though still kept himself at a fair distance. It was unfair to say Holmes hadn’t expected John to be haunted by his faked end; it was fair to say he had not anticipated it to this extent. "The story of it all is too long, too complicated." As John’s hand clenched, Sherlock felt a ping of sadness. For quite a while, the detective assumed being a demon meant heartless, cold, emotionless. He found it quite the opposite. Emotions more overwhelming than he had ever encountered. In that sense, Holmes was far more human-like than ever before. But the truth was, "I’m not…human."
ooc / Alright everyone. I managed to wrangle up the muse for a little while - though it took quite the bribe of letting him keep several samples of assorted monster flesh in the ice box - and should have those posts up tonight.
ooc / i apologize for not being on today - i had the hobbit premiere, and had a lot to do today. i should have posts sometime tonight.
ooc / I had three replies in the drafts all typed out and ready, so they will be delayed some more because Tumblr cleared them all.
“I don’t know what would make me feel better. But this has to be fake. I’m taking to a hallucination.”
"Well, that’s more a medical condition, probably multiple diagnosable mental disorders, or at least post traumatic stress. But you would have known that." Being in the same place as the doctor was causing an uncontrollable smile to curl upon his face. Sherlock had spared himself from imagining a confrontation with John, knowing it would only pain him more, but John had not disappointed. He was just as he had left him.