Devil John - Blog Posts
The continuing Adventures of Devil John
Work in Progress
After Sherlock Holmes died, he and the spirit of John Watson spent some time bumming around as ghosts. It was Sherlock's idea of course. He still loved the world and there were things that he had left to do. The freedom of going unseen and delving into mysteries that none had been able to solve filled him with glee, and John, who had been with him constantly through the latter years of his life as his body had failed him more and more, couldn't begrudge him his enthusiasm.
The only thing that gave John pause was Sherlock's chosen form. An old man's body had never seemed to fit Sherlock whose spirit was never old, but John was still surprised when he took Sherlock's hand to help him out of his body, and he pulled out the form of an eleven year old boy, curly-haired and smiling with one missing tooth, and scratches on his knees. It did seem to fit his personality, wild and mischievous. It looked so appropriate as he manipulated the air making channels of cold and heat that caused the bees to fly in complex spirals and shape forms like helices and starbursts. It also fit the ghost who liked to pull Mycroft's toupee off of his head at inappropriate times. A prank that had his spirit rolling on the floor in laughter and also left a smile on the edge of Mycroft's face who looked almost as if he knew that Sherlock was there. Then again, he probably did know about it given the fact that Sherlock had written extensive notes in his lifetime about his haunting by the demon spirit of John Watson. Mycroft would have inherited the notes, and his mind was never one to be limited by what everyone else 'knew' was true. Sherlock's form was wholly appropriate to his person, but John had hoped for more, and in this form John couldn't get himself to do more than give him a hug and a peck on the forehead from time to time.
http://archiveofourown.org/works/5116694/chapters/11771549#main
Devil John 13 - Friend
The end of the Devil John story!
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: explicit
Excerpt:
“So you've decided to ignore me. No matter. At least now you will have finally accepted that you are gay.”
“I'm not gay.” John says.
“What?”
“My entire life and most of my afterlife I've been trying to fit into boxes that other people have made. I won't do that anymore. I'm not gay...or straight. I'm not a soldier, or a man, or even a devil. I don't identify as any label you can make up. I am simply myself, John. I will love who I want, do what I want. I don't need your approval or anyone else's. I don't need others to tell me what my limits are. I'll find them myself. I was so enslaved by my own identity that I hurt Sherlock. I made him feel like he wasn't right, like he had to change himself for me to love him. I never realized how my discomfort in my own skin caused him pain. I acted badly, and I'm sorry. I hope that he realizes that in the end.”
“He will once he's here with us. Human lives are only so long.”
“He's not coming. I set his soul free.”
“What did you say!” Moriarty screamed rising to his feet. “Imbecile, stupid ignoramus, did you say that you set him free?” Moriarty walked around the table and placed a red claw on John's neck. John looked up at him unconcerned.”
“Yes, I let him go. He was still alive. Even so, he was willing to submit to eternal torture just to keep me company. That's true sacrifice. Loving someone more than anything in the world. Sherlock tried to show me again and again, and I was too much of an idiot to see it, until now. So chain me up to that wall. Burn me. Tear me apart, or whatever it is that you plan to do. Sherlock is free, and he can go on to his reward. I hope that it makes him happy.”
John squares his chin and closes his eyes bracing for a blow,
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Devil John - Chapter 12 Live
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit (yes it is)
Excerpt:
Sherlock spoke haltingly, words spilling out in bursts. “I was being prepped for an x-ray, concussion, when I found out. Mycroft walked into the room. I knew the moment that I saw his face. I remember running. There was... yelling. The next thing I remember, I was in the morgue. Molly was there. I saw your body on the table and I...” Sherlock' closes his eyes, burrowing his face deeper into John's chest as he holds on tightly to his shoulders. “I threw myself on your body. I think I wailed. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I broke down completely. Molly must have kept the others out, because they didn't force me back to my room. I wouldn't have gone anyway. I couldn't have gone. I couldn't leave you.” John felt tears on his chest. Then nails bit into his shoulders.
“if he hadn't already been dead, I swear I would have killed him myself. That man who shot you. I would have torn him limb from limb and cast the bits into the sea. I told them that I would, and I threatened anyone who tried to take your body from me. I know I stayed there overnight, and possibly the next day. Mycroft must have pulled strings…I woke up on Molly's bunk. They had put your body in refrigerated storage, but they still didn't force me to leave. So I put on a lab coat and observed you. That's when I took the cast of your wounds. I was analytical, detached. I thought that I was better, but apparently, no one one else did. They treated at me as one gone insane. In truth, I suppose that I was. A large part of my life ended the day that you died.
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Devil John 11 - Like a girl
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
The smell of oranges.
A tent door flapping in the breeze. Strong fingers digging in. The bright peel falling in pieces onto the surface a camp table. Oil arcs through the air filling the entire cabin with the smell of citrus.
“We've more ground to cover, and we're two men down,” Major Sholto says before taking a piece of orange and putting it in his mouth.
John looks up from where he sits slumped in his camp chair. He stares into blue eyes as bright as the desert sky. “Elroy and Firman were both good men. I tried to save them. I did everything I could for them.”
“I'm sure that you did, Watson. You're the best surgeon we have. If you couldn't save them, then they couldn't be saved.”
John smiles weakly, “It's nice of you to say, but I still think I could have done more.”
“As you should. Striving for perfection, that's what makes a man, isn't it? You did the best that you could, under the circumstances. No one can ask more than that. But I'm not looking forward to writing those letters to the family. It's never easy, but it's especially hard when those who die are so young.”
“Sometimes I wonder why they even enlisted. They could have been in Uni, having fun and meeting girls instead of coming out here to die in the desert.”
“Some people aren't made for civilized places. I couldn't imagine going back for good. Could you, Watson?”
“No,” John says. “It's a strange thing to say, considering where we are, but I've never lived in a place where I've felt more at peace than I do here and now...with you.”
Sholto pauses a minute to smile at John before eating the last orange slice.
John stares at the man sitting across from him. So strong and straight, and beautiful. It's as if this place had been made simply to show off his features. The square lines of his face echoed in the walls and floor. The beige color of the tent setting off the gold of his hair. He shines here, like the sun over the tops of the mountains.
In this moment, John's heart feels full, and this man makes him feel more welcome than anyone that he has ever known. He wants to tell him somehow, but he doesn't have words to describe it, so he rises to his feet and walks over to place a hand on the Major's shoulder.
He can hear birds singing outside the tent. Soon the sun will rise and everyone else in the camp will wake, but this moment seems made just for the two of them. A stolen moment of peace in a time of war. Unwilling to break the silence, but unable to keep his feelings inside, he bends down slowly and touches their lips together.
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Devil John 10 - Love
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
“You weren't always honest with me, Sherlock.”
“About what?”
“About you. In fact, it seems to me that we could have saved ourselves a lot of grief if you had simply been a little more honest about your feelings from the beginning.”
“Me? I should have been more honest?”
“Yes. You've had feelings for me as someone who was more than just a flatmate for... I think a very long time now, and yet you never said anything to me about it.
“I've had a lot of time to think, and it seems that you and I are compatible as sexual partners as well as business partners, and if you had just confessed your feelings before Mary and all of the rest of this had come along, then we could have avoided so much of the problems that we went through.”
“Oh really? Is that all?”
“No. You've always projected this ...image of yourself. This way that you want the world to see you, and because caring about me didn't fit in your plans, you repressed those feelings, pretending like you didn't feel any desire for me. But I could tell how you felt. I saw the way that you looked at me. How you were jealous of me. But whenever I tried to mention those sorts of feelings, you would shut me down. Despite the fact that I killed for you, that I've died for you even, I was never quite good enough for you to admit to wanting. I know it's too late to change the past, but I can't help thinking that if things were different, if you hadn't loved your image of yourself more than you loved me, then we wouldn't have had to settle for this fractured half-life that we're living now.”
Sherlock took a sip of his scotch and smiled crookedly before lifting his hand to touch his head. “I had to check to see if their was a name on my forehead, because everything you just said….that's exactly how I would have described you, John.”
on AO3
Devil John 9 - Killer
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
“I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of the frustration. I'm tired of being alone and returning to this ******* place. I want Sherlock here, now. Tell me how to do it.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Do you think that there is any other reason that I would call you after the last time?”
Moriarty frowned. “Johnny, you're asking for my help. Would it hurt to be just a little civil.”
“I haven't broken your neck yet. I think I'm doing pretty well. So tell me, do you know a way to make this happen, or is calling you just a waste of my time?”
“Oh I know. Believe me Johnny, I know how to get him here.”
“How?”
“It's simple, love. Sherlock has to die.”
“Time is passing faster above, but...not that fast. It will still be a long time before he dies a natural death.”
“Then, Johnny my dear, you need to help it along. You need to kill him.”
“Kill Sherlock Holmes?”
“Yes. If you want him. He's already promised you his soul. You only need to kill his body in order to claim it.”
“But...kill him? I don't know. Perhaps I should wait...”
“You said you didn't want to wait. Besides, the more time that you give him, the more chance he'll have to find a loophole to get out of his bargain. You can't. Trust. Mortals. Clever things, they're always plotting. Give them a couple years and they will find a way trick themselves out of a bargain. Sherlock is yours to take, to own, to use as you will. Why wait when you can have him now?”
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Devil John 8 - Want
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
Sherlock strides ahead, his long legs covering the distance quickly. John follows, his legs widening as he walks.
The flair of his coat.
Sherlock was always was a drama queen.
Sherlock pushes open the gate with his gloved hand, then he stops and looks back at John before rushing down the road. John steps through and looks at the street stretching out before them. The damp pavement glistens in the lamplight. Sherlock pauses at a quiet street corner and glances around before crossing. Bouncing lightly on his toes as he jumps over a puddle. He rushes, despite the fact that there is no sign of pursuit, pausing in his walk every so often however to glance back at John.
At University, John read the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Sherlock reminds him of Orpheus. He is a musician, and John did indeed come from the underworld.
What is that look in his eyes? Bedroom eyes. Sherlock on his bed in only his pants. A hand drifting down. Lidded eyes falling shut as he reaches inside. His mouth falling open.
John wonders if Eurydice had such dirty thoughts while watching her lover. A glance back, and Sherlock turns down another street.
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Devil John 7 - Sex
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
In the army, his unassuming nature and his ability to get a repeat date with any woman who had dropped her knickers for him once was what spurred the men to name him Three-Continents Watson.
He couldn't help the desire he felt whenever a pretty woman walked by, but it was contained somewhat by his certainty that he could have them begging and calling his name if he wanted them to. Even so, he always felt a little tense when he was alone with a woman.
Men, for the most part, did nothing for him. John found them uninteresting, almost without exception. Until a man had strutted across the lab toward him with his cheekbones and his tailored suit and John had felt it like a punch in the gut. He'd even had the gall to wink at him on his way out, just like she had, reminding him of what it felt like to be powerless.
When Sherlock had taken John's very mild query into his sexual orientation and thrown it in his face, John knew that his momentary thought of perhaps giving the other side a go was never going to happen. He put it out of his mind.
And yet, Sherlock always had a way of throwing him off balance. He definitely was NOT a woman, but sometimes the ever-changing color of his eyes, or the pale freckles on his neck as he stood playing the violin, or the rounded curve of his ass would hit John in a way that made him feel like he was back in that referee's closet.
continued on AO3
Devil John
Chapter 6 - Whiskey
Fandom:Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
“She's leaving us, Harriet. Too good for the likes of us, I guess.” His mother smiles, one of those sad smiles that are meant to reassure, but never do. “At least I have you to depend on, Love. You won't leave me, will you John? Come here.”
She opens her arms and wraps them around him careful to hold her cigarette hand out, so she doesn't burn him. John reaches his left hand around to pat her back as she rests her head against his shirt. A moment later, he feels it grow damp from her tears.
“Don't let this happen to you, Johnny. Find yourself a good gentle wife to settle down with. One that doesn't drink or smoke too much. Then maybe your kids won't hate you and run off.”
“Mum, Harry doesn't hate you.”
“It's all right if she does. I don't blame her for it. And when you finally leave, I won't blame you either.”
John wraps both arms around his mother and holds her tight. “I'm not leaving, Mum. I won't abandon you, not ever.”
“My loyal John. Some girl is going to love that about you. My best, my brightest son.” She kisses his arm. Then everything fades and they are on the grey plane again.
John covers his face with his hands. How long had it been since he had even thought about his mother.
continued on AO3
Devil John
Chapter 5 - Tea
Fandom:Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
The Black Dragon's Blood is long gone. It had given him confidence last time, burning through his veins. Without it, his anger is buried deep, even so, he can feel it simmering like a coal covered in a bed of ash waiting to catch fire again.
“So,”John says, looking back at the newspaper again. “Has it really been over a year?”
“Almost two.”
“I see.”
“But time passes differently in Hell, you said.”
“Yes.”
“Was it much shorter?”
“Hard to say. It's hard to tell the hours apart when things are always the same.”
“It would be interesting to make a calculation of the differences. That is, people have speculated about the afterlife for quite a long time, and this is a unique opportunity to write something definitive on the subject. If you could simply describe what it is like there. I mean, I've read books. There are tales of a tunnel, some sort of light, but no one ever sees what's on the other side of the ...”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“Is it that you are forbidden from speaking of it? You might let me guess. Then you only need nod. Is it anything like Dante's inferno? Or is it possibly that you...”
“I said that I don't want to talk about it!”
Sherlock stops talking. That more than anything drives John to turn and face him. Sherlock seems much healthier than before. He's underweight, as always, but despite his leg, he seems in good vigor. His blue eyes sparkle in the light from the window, and there is nothing about them that suggests that he isn't sleeping.
“You came back to me,” Sherlock says with eyes soft with feeling.
“Did you doubt I would?”
“No.”
“Liar. If you didn't doubt it, you wouldn't have mentioned in the first place.”
John walks over to his chair. It has been recently dusted and the union jack pillow neatly placed in the center. He thinks of sitting in it, but that would be too normal, so he walks around the chair instead placing his hands on the back to steady himself as he looks down at Sherlock.
Sherlock stares at him in wonder. John looks at his amazed face and then down at his own hands. He is uncertain what to do next. This isn't a completely uncommon state of affairs. Sherlock often unsettles him. When he had been alive, he had felt so confused at times, knowing that he wanted to say something, but not quite knowing what it was. But this is embarrassing. Demons aren't supposed to feel awkward, not in any vision of the afterlife that he's heard of. He rocks back and forth on his heels glancing up at Sherlock who is staring at him as if he believes that tearing his eyes away would make John disappear.
John starts to talk, then stops. Last visit he said some things that he was ashamed of. He wants to apologize to Sherlock for calling him names and for hurting him, but he's fairly certain that apologizing is also something that demons don't do. He had thought that death would change things, but he was pants at this sort of thing when he was alive, and it seems that he's going to be a pants demon as well?
Continued on AO3
Devil John
Fandom: Sherlock
Excerpt:
When John opens his eyes, he is chained to the wall again, but now there are even more chains. Some holding his ankles. Some making an X across his chest. Some holding his neck firmly against the wall. He tries to move, and they rattle.
He hears footsteps coming from the distance. He struggles, but he cannot get free. Then he sees Moriarty enter into the circle of light.
“Oh John, my dear. Looks like you've been a BAD boy.”
Story: Devil John
Fandom: Sherlock
WARNING! - Not even a little PC
Excerpt:
Breathing in he smells familiar scents: The elegant dust which settles on the bookshelves and drapes. The odd chemical tang of one of Sherlock's forgotten experiments. The chalky taste of bone. The traitorous smell of cigarette smoke.
He catches his image in the mirror. His face is dark, shadowed, threatening. His black eyes shine like moonlight on an obsidian knife. He doesn't look human.
Black Dragon's Blood burns when it goes down, but it settles in John's bones as a warm heat that glows like anger. He feels dangerous.
He frowns, and the darkness grows deeper. John realizes then that he is controlling it. It must be one of the effects of being a supernatural creature. He is a demon, after all. Things should be different, like breathing. He doesn't need to breathe anymore. He breathes in anyway just for the silky feel of it.
When he crosses his arms, darkness closes around him like smoke, with only his eyes shining through. His very thoughts have the power to manipulate matter. He wants to investigate it. Discover all of the things that he can do, but suddenly, he realizes that he is not alone.
Sherlock is sitting in his chair. He was so still and so quiet that John didn't notice him at first. John wonders if he has seen him, but Sherlock never turns around. Has Sherlock fallen asleep? No, his eyes are open, and his hair has been freshly groomed. What is he waiting for?
He's wearing the white shirt that he wore the day he met John and Mary in the restaurant. The shirts that he buys for himself are tight, the buttons almost popping across his chest, the nipples peeking through. Mycroft bought this shirt. It looks modest in comparison. John floats closer.
Sherlock seems to wake then. He sits straighter in his chair before rolling up his sleeve. It is only when Sherlock reaches over to pick up a bit of rubber tubing that John notices, on the table beside him, a syringe. The empty bottle next to it reads. DIAMORPHINE HYDROCHLORIDE. John growls.
Continued on AO3
Devil John
Chapter 2 - Hell
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Summary: John is dead, but that’s not the end for him. Not when he has a soul left to corrupt.
Excerpt:
The room is dark, illuminated by a bare yellow incandescent light hanging down from a pale cord that has been tied in a hangman's noose. Light pools around his feet in a circle fading away into blackness. The world outside of this little circle of light is darker than a starless night, blacker than a coal mine.
Along the wall, he sees small black spiders scurrying around. They sit just outside the circle of light. Their red eyes glowing, their bodies hidden in obscurity.
“Back with us now are you, Johnny?” sings a voice with an Irish accent. “It's about time.”
John watches as Moriarty walks slowly toward him, defiling the circle of light with his very presence. He's wearing the Westwood now, under a black knee-length coat with a blood red lining. His eyes bore into John's naked flesh and he sneers.
John looks down. There are scars on his hairy chest. His bullet wound from Afghanistan is back now. He pushes to his feet, not wanting to show such vulnerability to an enemy. His back scrapes against the coarse wall and starts to bleed.
“Moriarty! This is the kind of thing that I'd expect of someone like you. I knew it had to be a trick. Where are we, and why are you holding me here?”
Moriarty rolls his head back with a sigh. Then he stomps around in a tiny circle bobbing his head from side to side in frustration as he cries, “Hell and Devils! Are we back to that again, Johnny Boy? I SO hate repeating myself.” Moriarty whips his head around to glare at John as he yells. “WHERE ARE WE?”
His voice hits John like a slap, and he falls to his knees.
“Now Johnny boy, Tell me WHERE! WE! ARE!”
“In Hell,” John says quietly.
Continued on AO3
DEVIL JOHN
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Summary: John is dead, but that's not the end for him. Not when he has a soul left to corrupt.
Excerpt:
Why was it so dark here?
His wound was gone now, but there had been an awful lot of blood before.
“Are you done now?” A voice called out, a lilting voice that rose and fell like music. “Have you realized yet, or are you still in denial?”
“Hello? Where am I? I can't see you.”
“It's hard for you, I know, but I would have expected that as a doctor you would realize the truth sooner rather than later.”
The voice sounded familiar, male, a bit high pitched, sing-song. No, it couldn't be. “Who are you?”
“You know who I am. You just don't...want...to believe it. You don't want to see it either. I haven't seen this much smoke since the first time I burned down my orphanage.”
“Moriarty? But you're dead!”
“Yes, I am...Ah! You almost see it, but your mind is fighting it. You have such a titanic skill at denial, don't you John?”
“Denying what!”John barked. The light became darker. “What are you doing with the lights?”
“Nothing Johnny boy. It's you who is doing it.”
“I'm not dead!”
“You are, that's why you won't see me. When you realize the truth, it will all become clear.”
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