Mortal Man - Sherlock BBC Fic
Mortal Man
Moriarty may think he and Sherlock are devils, with Sherlock playing for the angels' side, but Sherlock has John. That is why he wins. Always. Sherlock/John. Spoilers 2x03.
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That finale outright demanded fanfics. It really did. Lots and lots of codas. I had 3 ideas for fics based off "The Reichenbach Fall." This is my first. My second is in 'post production.' ;D And the third...I haven't truthfully quite started on yet. But it'll happen soon. In the meantime, enjoy! Hope you like it!
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"Do you ever think there's something wrong with us?"
Irene Adler hadn't been the first time Sherlock asked his older brother that question.
Sherlock had always known he was different. He didn't care about games or sports. He didn't care about school, grades, diplomas, or anything of the sort. He didn't care about friends. He barely cared about family. It didn't bother him, though. As long as he had something puzzling, something mysterious, something interesting to keep his mind active, then he didn't care if he was different. He was having fun.
But every once in a while, Sherlock would see a group of kids his age just beyond the window, and he would wonder for a moment why he was not like them. At times like those, Sherlock asked Mycroft that question.
"Do you ever think there's something wrong with us?"
No. There was nothing wrong with them. "Caring is not an advantage," Mycroft told him. It's what he always told Sherlock.
And Sherlock was fine with being inhuman; abnormal; heartless. It didn't bother him.
Then there was James Moriarty. As much as Sherlock was loathe to admit it, he and Moriarty were very similar. They were both different from other people. They both needed the thrill of the chase to keep them happy. If there was nothing interesting going on, they would wither away and die. They needed each other because they were the two keeping them sane.
Well, maybe not sane. Alive. That was it. Alive.
Moriarty acknowledged this similarity. He and Sherlock were Devils. They were the impure of the Earth, the dark spots on humanity, because they didn't have any. Sherlock just played for the Angels' team, pretending, while Moriarty waved his evil banner high.
But...
"I will burn the heart out of you."
John.
The body before him. Bullet through the brain. There was no other way to stop what was about to happen except...jump.
Sherlock stood on the roof's edge, his devil's heart pounding in his chest. Moriarty...he thought he'd won. He'd died to win. But Sherlock knew something Moriarty didn't.
Sherlock was a devil. He admitted to that. He wasn't ashamed of it. He was no angel. He was just pretending. But there, on the other side of the street, stepping out of a cab at just the right moment like a gift from heaven, was John. Sherlock's breath caught in his throat.
He was a devil, but he had John. Somehow, some way, he'd gotten hold of John H. Watson. A brief smile flickered on Sherlock's lips as he reached for his phone. John was the reason Moriarty thought victory was in his grasp...but John was the reason why Sherlock would win, in the end.
It wasn't about angels and devils. No matter how odd Sherlock was growing up, how different he was from other people, he'd never cared. It was just the way the world was. Maybe Moriarty was right and normal people were angels compared to him. So what? John changed all of that. John took the dark soul that was Sherlock and cast his bright light on it.
John made Sherlock human. As long as there was John, Sherlock wasn't an angel or a devil; just a mortal man with a heart. A human heart. And that was why Sherlock wins.
"Goodbye, John."
"SHERLOCK!"
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fin.