On the Side of the Angels – P2: Wings

Blackness. Blackness and nothingness and the deafening silence. 'I am dead?' I asked myself, No, I couldn't be... That was the bathroom tiles under me, I could feel the smashed glass. So I was alive?
And then I remembered; the people, the sign, the blood, the noise, the light… Sherlock.
I tried to stand, but slip on the wet tiles, wet with my blood and water from a burst pipe. After three attempts I made it upright and surveyed the damage around me.
The room was like a bomb site - literally. Smashed glass and piping litters the floor, water and blood mixed and swirled over tiles, the window and mirror were completely gone, leaving only empty frames. The only thing that didn't look damaged was the sigil.
Oh god, what if the rest of the flat was like this?
"Sherlock!" I scrambled over the mess and hit on the door. "Sherlock open the bathroom door!" no response. Shit, was he alright?
"Sherlock!"
Nothing for it. It took me three attempts but I shoulder barged the door down and stepped into the hall. Calling his name I made my way down and into the living room. This is where he was, along with Anna and Uriel. But there was no one there.
What the hell was going on?! Is he dead? No. I won't accept that. Where the hell did they go, he said it would save us both...
"Sherlock?!" I shouted again, my voice rising in desperation.
Silence. Now I started to panic, my eyes welled up but I rubbed them fiercely. Soldiers don't cry; I've done this before, I can do it again. No, I can't. I can't watch another friend die, not now, not him.

But then a familiar low voice came from right behind me, so close I could almost feel his breath, "hello John."
I whipped round, too relieved to reprimand him about personal space, throwing myself into his arms and clinging on for dear life. It was a full minute before I let go, pushed him away from me by the shoulders and almost shouting "what the hell Sherlock!?"
He doesn't break his stare, just takes a breath and mummers "I suppose I owe you an explanation."
"Too fucking right you do! Some people show up trying to kidnap you or something, you lock me in the bathroom and tell me to draw some devil sign in my own blood, then there's some light I thought was going to set my eyes on fire and the bloody noise! Then when I come looking or you, you and your crazy palls are gone and I'm thinking you're dead and then you literally pop out of nowhere?! What the hell is this about?!"
He didn't answer for what seems like an eternity, just gazing into my eyes with a troubled look. Then he took another breath as if preparing himself for the worst. "I'm an angel of the lord."
"You.. You're... You're what?" I stammered, sure that I'd heard wrong. "You're... you're saying you're an, an angel?" he couldn't be... My mind was racing, trying to process the information.
He nodded.
"Oh god you relapsed didn't you?" I asked, suddenly angry, "what was it? Dope? Or something stronger?"
"I'm not intoxicated."
"Oh sure, you're a sober angel."
"I can prove it." he said quietly. And vanished.
My head snapped up, spinning round in urgency. How could he..?! What, was it all true? It couldn't be!
"Sherlock!?"
With a noise that sounded strangely like the flapping of feathers, he was in front of me again. "So, so it's true?" I whispered, stunned.
He nodded again.
"So Anna and Uriel, they're... They're angels too?"
"Yes."
"So when she said he wanted to take you to heaven...?"
"Yes she meant the heaven."
"Why?"
He gestured to my normal chair and sank into his own. I sat.
"Anna and Uriel are worried that I'm going to rebel, become disobedient, fall."
"Why?"
He gave me a 'stop interrupting' look and answered "I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You."
"Like Castiel?"
"Castiel was in charge of the Winchesters, he fell last year. Uriel and Anna wanted to take me back to make sure that the same wouldn't happen to me."
I thought I was beginning to understand, "Did they want to kill you?"
"Yes."
"And, and," I looked around hurriedly, cricking my neck, "they're gone now? Are you safe?"
"I am," and with that he leaned forward in his chair and pressed one palm flat against my chest. I didn't have time to ask what he was doing or protest, not that I would have wanted to. I could feel my heart rate increasing as it always did on physical contact, no I definitely wasn't going to stop hi…
"Ow!" a sudden searing pain shot through my torso; deep, I felt it right on my ribs. "What was that?!"
"Ancient Enocian protection," he sat back down, even now as I clutched my chest in pain, I didn't want him to let go. "I carved it into your ribs."
"You did what?!"
"Now you're protected from them, you're hidden from every angel in existence."
Still rubbing my chest, I asked "is that what the thing you asked me to draw was?"
"Angel banishing sigil," he answered matter-of-fact-ly, "that's why I wasn't here when you came conscience."
"In human blood?"
Sherlock shrugged, "or angel."
I laughed slightly, shaking my head.
"What?"
"Just, I still can't believe that you're an angel."
"I just proved it didn't I?"
"Yes but, that's not the kind of thing one usually springs on a person." Pause. "do you, uh, have you got, like, wings?"
He smirked, "obviously. John this isn't my true form, my real form is as tall as the Chrysler building and would blind you permanently."
I couldn't help but feel slightly down hearted at this, so Sherlock wasn't actually in his real form, and I could never see it. Hang on, what was he now if not his true self?
"So, what's, what's this then?" I gestured weakly at him.
"This?" he placed his hands on hips as if seeing himself for the first time, "this is a vessel."
"A what? You mean that's someone else's body?"
"Yes."
Well, now it was awkward. I felt betrayed, knowing that he wasn't the man I'd thought he was. It meant I'd been fantasying about a stranger and that was even odder than what I'd thought it was…
He seemed to sense my discomfort and reached across the seemingly massive space between us to take my hand. I looked up at him, eyes widening in shock and he grinned; his infuriatingly adorable little sideways grin. "John, I'm still the same person, well, I'm not human, but I'm the same. I was like this when we met, and I'm going to say this way. Just because it's not my body doesn't mean it's not me."
He's right, of course he is. It might be just a 'vessel', but it's still him inside, it's still the same person I fell for as soon as he borrowed my phone.
I smiled to show that I understood. Sherlock still hand my fingers encased in his, I wasn't used to this. This was what I'd wanted, longed for, but it was different. Never in a million years had I dreamed it would happen like this.
"So, I'll never get to see you, the real you?"
He shook his head, then looked up at me again, eyes sparkling with typical Sherlock-y excitement that I usually associated with a serial killing.
"Wait."

He almost leapt up - I don't think I've ever seen him that excited – and ran to the doorway. With one flick of his pale violinist's finger, he plunged the room into darkness.
"Sherlock, what..?" I began, but he 'shh'ed me and clambered up onto the back of his chair.
"Put the lamp on."
"What?"
"The lamp John, you said you wanted to see."
Bemused, I reached across to press the switch.

And now I know what he wanted me to see. As well as his regular lanky shadow on the hideously papered wall there were two others. Two black shapes extending out either side of his upper back; they were huge, stretching all the way to the edges of the room. Wings. Even in shadow I could make out small details, the feathering and texture. I felt a strong desire to touch, but I doubted I could.
He was smiling widely, looking like a kid who was proud of a good report.
"Wow," I breathed, standing up. I crossed the metre of carpet between our seats and gazed up in awe. "Pretty impressive."
He smiled his lopsided smile that I knew was reserved only for me, "much more so in the flesh, well, I mean in true form. Really the vessel is 'the flesh'."
I knew it probably wouldn't do anything, mean anything, achieve anything, but I couldn't help reaching up a hand to touch the shadow.
"You said Uriel reckons you were 'getting to close' to me."
"I did."
"Do you agree with him?"
After a slight pause Sherlock hopped down off the chair – I noticed the shadows of his wings (god that sounded weird, his wings) folding gently, and this time heard the ruffle of feathers clearly. Once he was on ground level again, he was stupidly close to me, his, frankly angelic, face inches from mine.
"I wouldn't say too close…" he murmured, taking my wrists in his cold hands. As he drew even closer I felt a flutter in the air next to me, it was still strange, still new; then again, so was him being to so close, too close. My heart was going crazy, I smiled to myself, wings aren't the only thing aflutter.

There will be more superlock on the way, but reviewing will quicken the process :) hopefully Team Free Will will feature soon too