Sherlock looked at him, his eyes wide and fearful, but very carefully he shook the right shoulder of his trench coat off and pulled back his shirt to reveal a bloody mess of skin and fabric.
"Oh my God, what happened?" John asked.
"I told you already." Sherlock pointed out. John got to his feet hurriedly, making Sherlock jump and raise the gun back into John's face, the coat falling back into place.
"I'm just going to get a first aid kit, chill out okay?" John sighed. Sherlock didn't reply, he just looked at John suspiciously, as if he were about to pull out a rifle and blow his head off. John went over to his bag and pulled out the big white first aid kit, displaying happy children with bandages on and mothers that were smiling as their children played on the playground, but ironically it would not be used for that purpose. John had added a couple of things to this family oriented first aid kit (it had been on sale) like a needle and thread for stitching himself up, some emergency salt, and a couple of anti-possession charms. He'd give one to Sherlock to make him calm down.
"Alright, you're going to need to be really still, I'm going to clean it out." John decided, grabbing the kit and walking over to where Sherlock sat. He still had the gun, but it wasn't pointed at John anymore, he was playing with the loading button as if it were a nervous little habit he had.
"Sit up here on the bed." John suggested. Sherlock just looked at him for a little while, and John was half expecting him not to move, but finally, to his surprise and relief, Sherlock got up and sat on the very edge of the bed, ready to jump away at any moment.
"Okay, let's just see this here." John decided, standing above Sherlock and pushing the coat off of his shoulders to reveal the wound. It was pretty nasty and all, but John had seen worse and couldn't show any emotion so he didn't scare Sherlock.
"Is it okay?" Sherlock asked nervously as John dabbed a cloth in disinfectant.
"Yes, it's fine, it'll heal in a week or so." John assured.
"Should I go to the doctor?" Sherlock asked.
"No, no outside help, they ask too many questions." John pointed out. "This might sting." He pushed the pad to the wound and Sherlock jumped like a scared animal, but he stayed still long enough for John to clean out the cut and get the shredded fabric out of the way. Now he could see where the skin was actually cut open, it was a large gash but it didn't require any homemade stiches. Once it was clear of blood, even though it was still bleeding lightly, John bandaged it the best he could and shut the medical case, feeling like quite a doctor.
"There we go." He decided with an encouraging smile. Sherlock bent his head awkwardly to try to see what John had done, but John shook his head.
"Try not to move around too much." John decided, steadying Sherlock's head with a touch to the cheek. Maybe that wasn't the best approach; Sherlock slapped his hand away and crawled backwards in fear. John sighed, this baby was almost too much to handle. It was tempting to just dump him in oncoming traffic and make up some abstract story to cover it up.
"Dang, sorry." John sighed. Sherlock just whimpered a little bit, scanning his surroundings. "Oh, ya, I've got something here for you." John pulled out the anti-possession symbol, which was a charm on a necklace.
"Wear this; it will prevent a demon from possessing you." John said, handing Sherlock the leather cord.
"Do you, do you have one of these?" Sherlock asked. John pulled back his shirt to reveal his anti-possession sign, tattooed below his shoulder.
"Made sure it was permanent." John sighed.
"Are you sure it will work?" Sherlock asked, slipping the necklace around his neck and admiring the way it fell onto his chest.
"It hasn't failed me yet, and I've been in some sticky situations before." John admitted.
"Why do you hunt monsters, why would you want to?" Sherlock asked, titling his head a little bit. He looked a bit like a confused dog with his curly bangs falling over his face.
"It's a bit of a long story." John sighed. His past was something he liked to keep secret, he never told anyone before, and he certainly wouldn't share his sob story to some stranger. Sherlock nodded; obviously able to tell when it was too much information, so he just sat there quietly, twisting the charm on the necklace. He obviously needed something to do with himself; he looked like a socially awkward kind of guy, definitely a weirdo.
"Why did it go after you?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know. And it left so easily, it's just weird." John admitted.
"Will it come back?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know. But you should really get home, now that you're all patched up. I'm sure the demon won't go after you again, but I'll give you some holy water so you can hold your own." John decided, getting to his feet to get a portable container.
"I...I don't have a home." Sherlock muttered.
"What do you mean?" John asked.
"I killed him..." Sherlock muttered.
"Who did you kill?" John asked.
"My landlord." Sherlock said in a terrified whisper, as if the ghost of the landlord will come out and kill him back to get even.
"Then what do you want me to do with you?" John asked with a sigh. He knew killing someone might be a little bit traumatizing, but right now it was more annoying to be honest.
"I'm scared." Sherlock muttered.
"I'm aware." John sighed.
"Can you keep me?" Sherlock asked hopefully, his green eyes still watering.
"What?" John asked in shock. "Keep you? I'm like, the worst babysitter you can imagine!"
"I won't be a burden (ya right), you can teach me how to fight these monsters, we could work together!" Sherlock decided.
"Whoa there, slowdown, who said anything about this?" John asked.
"I did, just now." Sherlock pointed out, looking generally worried that John hadn't heard him.
"I know, but you don't want to work with me, you don't want this life." John pointed out. But Sherlock looked excited, as if he had just planned out his whole life.
"It can't be that bad." Sherlock pointed out.
"I don't have a house, I live in hotels that I can only afford through credit card fraud, I eat fast food every day, drive across the company alone, go find nightmare creatures, usually get injured, kill the creature and heal myself with a bottle of whiskey and a needle and thread. Who wants this life?" John asked. Sherlock's enthusiasm seemed to die down just a little bit.
"But, it might be better with company?" he asked nervously.
"You have your whole life ahead of you, go do something productive, get a house, raise a family, be happy for God's sake, and don't stick with me." John debated.
"I'll never be able to live happily when I know there are things out there that other people are suffering because of. No one deserves the torture that I just went through." Sherlock insisted.
"Don't ruin your life like this." John debated.
"Please." Sherlock asked hopefully, looking so darn helpless that John cracked under pressure.
"Fine, one case, just one, and if you like it we'll figure out what to do with you, if not I'd be ever so happy to let you go off on your own, I think everyone deserves a chance at happiness." John agreed. It was like he had just asked Sherlock to marry him or something, the first smile he had ever seen on the boy erupted, and he looked so happy and proud of himself that it was almost heart breaking to think that he would be up against creatures.
"Thank you oh thank you so much!" Sherlock exclaimed, and for a moment John thought that he was about to hug him. Thankfully Sherlock kept his distance, but it was obvious John had just made his day.
"Now get some sleep, we'll be off in the morning." John decided, going over to his own bed while Sherlock lay down, wincing because of his shoulder, in the other.
"Good?" John asked with his hand on the light switch.
"Good night." Sherlock said happily.
"Alright, good night then." John agreed, plunging the room in darkness. He couldn't remember the last time he said good night to anyone, he never had anyone to say it to. John had never had a partner in this crime, and Sherlock could hardly be counted as one. The moment something comes he'll be terrified, he'll huddle in the corner and start crying, he'll die in three seconds! There was no way John could bring someone like that along. So he decided that he'll wake up in the morning, leave some cash, enough for breakfast and a train ticket, and slip out before Sherlock would know what had happened. It was cruel, he knew it, especially after the joy he had brought the boy, but he couldn't let him wandering into his own suicide. John sighed, rolling over in his bed and closing his eyes, and despite the fact that there had been demons and monsters and creepy guys, John slept like a baby, like he always did.

John was good at programing himself to get up early, like really, really early, but considering they went to bed at one or something really early ended up being five in the morning. He knew he'd hate himself for only getting four hours of sleep, but when John's eyes opened there was no going back. He looked over at Sherlock, who looked so peaceful that it was hard to look away, with his black hair smashed between his head and his pillow, and his face slack, his arms in a mess around him...focus John, you couldn't think about Sherlock now, only his wellbeing. It didn't take long for John to pack considering he had nothing to his name, and this time he especially remembered to pack the toothbrush,because if he didn't he might just have to meet another demon. When he had all his things in a suitcase he dug some cash out of his pockets. He left Sherlock forty dollars and a shotgun, not wanting to imagine the boy's face when he woke up and saw that John had gone. And then John slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door.

  "You're leaving me aren't you?" asked a sleepy yet disappointed voice. Crap.

 "No, I was, just testing to make sure this door could fit me and my bags all out at one time, it's very important for doors, they like to feel like they can be of use to even heavy packers." John said, nodding furiously to his own lie. Sherlock was sitting up in bed, still wearing his trench coat and everything,the bandages from his shoulder sticking out oddly.

 "No, you're leaving, you were going to leave me." Sherlock pointed out.

  "Alright, fine, but I don't want you to get hurt!" John defended, dumping his bags with a sigh.

  "I won't get hurt." Sherlock assured.

 "It took you twenty minutes to stop crying to have a conversation with a human, I can't even imagine you trying to burn some corpse or decapitate a vampire."John pointed out. Sherlock frowned, no one liked the facts.

  "I was shaken up, I promise I'm not that much of a deadbeat, I might have given off the wrong impression, but you don't know me, you really don't." Sherlock debated.

  "Why do you want to go with me so much?" John asked with a slightly annoyed sigh.

 "I don't know, I don't think I can ever go back to the way my life used to be,that's all." Sherlock sighed. "And I want to help anyone else so that they don't have to face such horror."

"That's deep." John commented, and Sherlock cracked a nervous smile.

  "Seriously though, I'm sure I'll be fine." Sherlock insisted. John couldn't do anything to decline though, considering he had already promised him that he could come, the only way had been to sneak away, and now that Sherlock had spoiled that it would be a bit difficult to give him the slip. "Alright, if you say so." John sighed. He grabbed his laptop and slipped back under the covers of his bed. The lights were still off, and his side of the room was illuminated by the light of the laptop brightness, the only tan John ever got really. He looked over and saw Sherlock lying back down, but his radiant green eyes were staring at him, visible through the blackness. John had to admit, they were much more flattering to look at then the black demon eyes. He shook his head, quickly opening up a calendar he had in there and checking the days. John sighed, but clicked back out just as quickly, just in case Sherlock saw.The calendar was deadly important to John, for reasons we need not get into now.