BBC Sherlock| Shoulder Angels| T
Synopsis:It would figure that Sherlock Holmes’ shoulder angel carried a gun and his shoulder devil didn’t wear his wings as they clashed with his Westwood suits.
The day Sherlock Holmes was born, Shoulder Entities agencies in both Heaven and Hell had been completely overturned in panic. Mere seconds after Sherlock had cried out his first breath, a note on his file showed up in heaven.
Jim Moriarty was his shoulder devil.
The Director was said to have slammed his head down on the considerably big file of the youngest Holmes. It was a stack of blank papers and documents about five inches long. Except for his Birth Certificate, they were all blank; as many papers would be filled along the course of his human life. It later would baffle many angels and demons that noticed, oddly enough a death certificate would be in the middle of the file with no explanation.
This was all pretty routine, a human was born, and they would either have volunteers already lined up for a soul as soon as they were conceived, or they would be assigned one their first day on earth.
No one wanted to work with Jim Moriarty, and several angels who were considered threatened to hand in their resignation.
Even Irene had declined because of her first dibs on a new soul that would desperately need her. And she wasn’t sure that she could keep both her charge and herself alive with Moriarty there.
No one blamed her.
The last angel to partner with Jim was still in therapy. He’d been given permission to handle pens just last decade.
“Oh! Thank goodness you’re here!”
John smiled awkwardly at that and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the frazzled looking secretary. She tried to make herself seem less desperate and forced herself to not clutch at his lapels. During this the man he came to see came out of a nearby office.
“John! Good to see you, and just the angel I was looking for.” Mike Stamford smiled and exchanged looks with the secretary who slumped back in her chair and gave off the relieved of someone whose washed their hands of a very messy problem.
John was beginning to question his decision to meet his old friend again. Especially suspicious that he asked him to meet in the Reassignment office in what amounted to neutral territory.
“There was a bit of an uproar in Up There and Down Here, have you heard?”
John was tempted to ask if gossip was all Mike called him out for but refrained. There was an air of someone leading to something and to humor them.
“I noticed something was up, but I never got too many details. Something about a human…?”
“Yep,” Mike beamed,“There’s this one human born, and his future is so ambivalent that there’s a perfect 50/50 chance to go either way. Not to mention they feel this one’s gonna send waves out in the human world. Heard his file was 5 inches thick too.”
John whistled, his own file was 3 inches thick, and he was a good bit older than even Mike, who remembered the old days when Lucifer was still sporting a pair of pearly white wings.
Out on a tangent Mike asked about his latest charge. John grimaced and rubbed at his shoulder, feeling an answering twinge in his leg.
“He’s getting settled pretty well Up There, went to have a drink with him once or twice this past month.”
Mike seemed to realize he’d hit a still sore spot because all he said was a “That’s good news at least.” before nodding at his shoulder and wing.
“Still bothering you then? That wound.”
“Yep. You’d think after a century or so it would begin to heal properly but no—"He cut himself off, the last word spitted out with old bitterness, hand shaking where once he would have been steadier than a rock. He took a calming breath and was suddenly so glad that he wasn’t conversing with someone from home. They would have frowned at his showing of negative emotions and checked that his wings were still feathery and glowing with angelic power.
Demons, on the other hand didn’t put up too much fuss when confronted with an angel getting snippy, as long as any and all holy weapons were kept sheathed. Mike held true and didn’t remark or seem to notice anything out of character, at least outwardly.
On his bad days, John sometimes wondered what it said about him that he felt more at ease conversing with demons that most other angels.
Especially since most of his demonic acquaintances were those he had fought fiercely during the Great War against. And hadn’t killed.
Mike brought him back from his reverie, whip-like tail waving through the air in a decidedly languid fashion. "So, do you have another charge for Guardianship?”
Another twinge, but this one was almost easily ignored. “Not really, I don’t think I can go through that so soon,” His wings settled in a tight manner close to him. Bill Murray was the first human under his new job as a Guardian Angel, after a couple of years after being honorably discharged from Warrior Angel status by a lucky shot through his shoulder and wing both during a skirmish between demons that the Angelic Forces decided to crash. His hands weren’t steady anymore, and his healing was iffy.
He could see why he was discharged, an angel who couldn’t confidently heal others or aim correctly wasn’t any use in a war. He was more a liability.
It didn’t stop the feelings of uselessness.
So as soon as the full body spasms stopped completely and his healer confirmed that the malicious energy in his wound had finally been purged away, he had registered himself for Guardianship. And had been given Bill Murray, a chance to actually see the human world for the first time, and his sense of duty back.
In protecting little Billy from dangers, scrapes and trying to do life damage control; John lost his limp, and his hand was ever steady, his Angelic Will never faltering. He had never felt so alive and useful and such a deep abiding Love for a human. Ever since he had glimpsed his soul as the first thing to see coming down to earth, he had been given the Guardian Angel’s defining characteristic to so purely love their human charges.
He had taken years to study human medicine and had endeared himself to a strange succubus who went by different monikers every year or so on one of his trips to Hell, sword at ready, to visit Mike and ask a favor for human healing practice. Mike had actually gone up to the human world and earned a degree in medicine, and so had been a great help.
Anthea, however, had merely tagged along and steered him clear of less tolerant demons with an easy air. She never failed to show up every time he came before Hell’s gate. It was strange, but John didn’t mind, it was nice to have someone to chat with and eventually he noticed the burning curiosity of the human world that she had.
It took some serious sneaking around and some indecent flirting with a demon who guarded a little used gate, but he eventually had permission to bring Anthea (who was now called Athena, but John had been introduced to her as Anthea and so Anthea she had stayed to him) with him.
They attended Bill’s college courses, with John sneaking glances at another student’s medical text, and with Anthea taking everything in with the wide curious eyes that endeared her to him. He guided her through his knowledge of the human world that he had painstakingly learned in his years of Guardianship.
Last he had seen her was when she had shown up at Heaven’s gate, almost started an altercation with a guard and had hugged him tightly, cracking his ribs as he tried to explain that,no, she wasn’t here to cause trouble and yes, they were friends.
Anthea had applied for a human of her own to tempt as a shoulder devil. He had patted her shoulders proudly and felt the disbelieving stares of other angels as he exclaimed that he knew she would do a damned good job.
Hanging around with Bill and his army mates had done wonders for his swearing capacities.
She had only sent missives for the past years, and John amused her and her charge by sending scrolls of gold and silver in a show of pompous angelic grace use.
And then Bill had gone to Afghanistan. Most of the other Guardian Angels in his squad were relatively new to this human war, he ran himself ragged and stopped distinguishing his charge and theirs. Every human was their charge, and sometimes another angel covered for him while he recharged his “batteries” impatiently in Heaven as keeping bullets off their mark took more energy out of his Presence than merely keeping his form on Earth would.
It worked out great, for the most part, after the new angels began to fall in line like true warriors. And then everything was gone, in a single skirmish, most of their human charges were dead and their Guardians subsequently whisked off to Heaven. Bill had seen him, and closed his eyes and not opened them again. He flew back to Heaven with tears in his eyes and Bill’s soul cradled protectively in his hands.
No. He didn’t think he could do that again.
A paper was thrust in his face, and he momentarily went cross-eyed trying to focus out the words at the top.
Oh no. No, no, no, nope. No way. He slapped it back down.
“C'mon John!” Mike, that old tempter, wheedled,” No other angel is stepping up to plate because of Jim; would you really leave someone to a Moriarty’s mercy?” That gave him pause, he frowned at Mike.
“Moriarty?”
“The grandson of his, yeah. Goes by Jim. Got his last charges sent here early. Put other angels in intensive therapy.” Mike grinned the smuggest grin not seen since a snake got Eve to eat an apple.
John’s face didn’t move but his hand slowly steadied, his eyes scanned the waiting room they’d been sitting in. “Get real Mike. Look at me.” Spreading his arms, his left lower as to not irritate his wound. His sword clanged lightly from his hip, his ever present armor gleamed almost ominously in the cool lighting.“Who’d want me for a conscience?”
He was a Warrior first and foremost, and a small part of him wanted to sign up if only to see how he fared pitted against the latest Moriarty. A human didn’t need that kind of violence residing in the angel giving out good advice.
“I got word from a contact of mine.” No names were mentioned of course, Mike was nothing if not discreet, “There’s a death certificate smack dab in the middle of his file.” It would be a terribly powerful clairvoyant to see the words in the blank page of a human’s life.
John’s sword gave a gentle humming sound, and John cursed internally as Mike took out a pen and waved it in his face.
“No matter what you say about getting old,” John grumbled as he jotted down his info, “You still manage the temptations of man pretty well from where I’m standing.”
Mike grinned even wider the snakey bastard.
They got a confirmation not ten seconds after it was sent. Along with a sad little sticky with the words, “BLESS YOU.” in thick, underlined block letters.
John didn’t think it was very angelic, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt in flipping Mike off before unfurling his wings and taking off.
His laughter followed him all the way.