Immortal Rejection (fanfiction)

(Note these are also part of a story that might eventually be written as a follow-up to “Under the Chess Board”, but in the meantime here are some scenes taken as oneshots) Oneshot one: Immortal Rejection 

It was the middle of the day, and Sherlock just realized something, well he knew this for a while but even so details had been hidden from him. The blond had discovered that John was a werewolf quite some time ago, still the shady dog managed to slip one detail by him. Werewolves have the ability to turn others into the immortal species. Sherlock had found out by chance, by simply listening on to a conversation between his two good friends. Something about how Victor and John were happy the obnoxious man was human, well it went from there to ways to change that. You would think by now they would catch on to Sherlock’s habit of listening in to these kinds of things, but he still got away with it.


“Please!” the blond man pleaded dramatically to his friend. John looked over at Sherlock, unimpressed, and the smaller man held his hands together while his face held an expression of desperation.


The taller man just looked back at the paper and a sharp “No.” exited him. This caused Sherlock to put his hands down and his face to form a small frown.


After a couple minutes Sherlock leaned back in his seat and examined his friend “Why won’t you!?” the thought that one of his closest friends was okay with him dying off was unfathomable to say the least.


“Because.” John grumbled, as if expecting Sherlock to already know the answer to that question.


The blond rested his hands on his knees as his hair started to fall in front of his face. “Do you want me to die?” after all, he thought, how many reasons for this could there be? It was to live or die right?


A groan expelled from John as he finally put his paper down and looked over at Sherlock “You are not dying right now so stop being so melodramatic.” How could this possibly be a big deal? John thought as he pushed his pale hair out of his face.


Sherlock just stared back at John, his peach-pink eyes examining the expression in the blue ones across from him. “But as a mortal I will.”


“Yes.”


Suddenly the smaller man got a dramatic pout on his face “Won’t you miss me?” his voice held a similar tone to a child about to throw a tantrum.


Coldly John simply looked at him and replied: “No. I won’t miss you. The thought of you harassing me for eternity gives me nightmares.” Having felt the matter done with he then turned back the paper that was in his hands.


Sherlock turned from being about to cry…or flip out…or whatever it is he does when he is being dramatic, to being utterly confused for a moment. Confused, well oblivious is a better term. “Um…” he began; John was practically retching at the thought of talking about this any longer. “Then why did you decide to live with me?”


This time he didn’t even move, or look up from the paper. John just stared at the article he was reading “Because it is refreshing living with a mortal.” With nothing more to say he didn’t acknowledge his companion standing up to walk over to him.


“You just said that you really don’t like me, either you are lying to me or you are a total idiot.” The shorter man seemed to forget that when asking one to do something, calling them stupid doesn’t generally help much.


Sherlock’s words managed to make John raise an eyebrow, and almost look up from the newspaper…almost. “I don’t dislike you per say, but to have you badgering me for eternity would drive me insane.” How many times have I tried to end this already!? John couldn’t help thinking how pointless this was.


The blond pouted a little and crossed his arms “Great you want me to die…that’s nice.” He sighed and went back to sit down. “Well I may as well stick to the plan I have I guess.” Sherlock had already searched for ways to become immortal previous to this encounter, and was on the right track to one (or so he thought at the time) and really his conversation with is blue eyed wolf-friend was more of…well he wanted to see why John had never mentioned this before. You can say he already knew the answer, but it is so much nicer to have these things confirmed. In his mind Sherlock was thinking of a good time to meet with a specific zombie, who he felt was his key in this situation.


“Melodramatic much?” John cast a side glance at his friend who seemed to be in his own thoughts right now. In truth he himself never much liked being immortal. So why would he want to inflict it on someone else? Maybe his real motives were more orientated around this and too cheesy or cliché to say at the time. Examining his friend John could see him spacing out again “Oh you and your drugs” he muttered and rolled his eyes. It was pretty obvious the man was a little high at the moment.


Silence took over the room for a little while, they just sat there, then suddenly Sherlock lit up a bit and changed the topic from before, “Oh and who is this ‘Mary’ that called for you?” his eyes were slightly slanted as if suspicious but overall the man was just curious…and there was nothing better to talk about at the moment.


“My fiancée.” John stated plainly and went back to his reading. Why was he even trying to concentrate with his obnoxious friend in the room!?


The shorter blond sighed and looked down before lifting his head again and glaring over at his friend, “Don’t tell me you are involved with another mortal!” Sherlock got the expression of a toddler again. “What can she possibly do that I cannot!?” the pang of jealousy hit him before he could even filter his words.


Again the room went quiet, but not because the conversation died. No, this was because John was clenching his teeth and currently wanted to smack his flat-mate across the head “WHAT THE-” he cut off his voice by smacking himself with his paper. “WHAT THE GODDAMN HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!?!?!? FOR CHRIST’S SAKE SHERLOCK!” the man could no longer contain his rage. What is this dumbass trying to get at anyway!? He thought to himself.


Sherlock scrunched his face together and seemed to ignore John’s outburst. “Also” he began to ask, “How is that even going to work!? I mean, you don’t age!!” he almost raised his voice as John’s eyes widened. Even though Sherlock had pointed out the obvious it was something John had not spared a thought about. The man with the pony-tail started to mumble a response when Sherlock started up again. “YOU HAVEN’T ANSWERED EITHER QUESTION YOU BUFOON!!”


“I AM NOT THE ONE ASKING A WEREWOLF TO FREAKING BITE ME!!!”


“WELL EXCUSE ME FOR NOT WANTING TO DIE BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE I KNOW!!”


“DO YOU KNOW HOW FREAKING RISKY WHAT YOU ARE ASKING ME IS!?!? YOU MIGHT NOT EVEN SURVIVIVE IT!!!”


The two men were standing up while they shouted; face to face they released the yelling that had been trying to escape them for the duration of the conversation. Both full of frustration, faces screwed together and biting their lips to keep from further shouting. Sherlock turned away from his friend, “Well then I’ll just go and find another way.” He muttered coldly. Then he walked out of the room and left. John stared after him and sighed. That could have gone better, he thought.