"Is that it then?" he asked.
"Yes, it is Devil's shoestring, but I can't guarantee it works." She pointed out.
"It will." John assured.
"Have you tried it yourself?" Sherlock asked, looking apprehensive.
"Well my dear, all of the costumers that have purchased it haven't lived on to give it a review I'm afraid. I don't know how accurately they used it though; there are many things that can go wrong when you try to cheat the Devil."
"Brilliant. How much?" John asked.
"Ten for a stalk, thirty for five." She decided.
"I'll take five." John sighed, feeling like she was definitely cheating him. He started to dig out his wallet for his credit card, but he heard Sybil sigh in front of him.
"Cash, if you don't mind." She decided. John groaned, obviously she knew more than he'd like.
"I've got some cash in the car, Sherlock, go get it." John decided, throwing the scared boy the keys. Sherlock scampered out of the door to the car, and John got right to business.
"What do you know about deals?" he asked in an interrogating voice and Sybil just sighed.
"I know that once you kiss the demon it is sealed, there is no going back." She decided.
"But what if..." John sighed; this was going to sound stupid. "What if you didn't get your promise?" he asked.
"That has never happened." she pointed out.
"Well, it did for me." John pointed out. Sybil studied him for a moment.
"I think you overlook the things in life that you most desire." She decided.
"I don't want a riddle, I want..." John's sentence was cut off by Sherlock arriving, holding out a crumpled wad of thirty dollars in his hands.
"And you, lady, whoever you are, I don't want you going around thinking that I'm gay, because, you know, maybe your inner eye is clouded or something...because I'm definitely not." Sherlock pointed out, handing her the money, but Sybil simply laughed a little bit.
"I see it in your eyes, you are lying, and your heart aches, you miss him, whoever he was, and you don't want to admit it to yourself. There is no point in hiding, Mr. Watson here has no problem with it, in fact..."
"Okay, okay, let's not go beating up on him, come on Sherlock, we're leaving." John decided, walking to steer Sherlock out of the store.
"Be careful you two, there are friends and foes where ever you step, you must enjoy life while you still live as free men!" she declared.
"Ya, sure, and they say I'm crazy." John laughed, holding the devil's shoestring tightly in his fist and leaving the store.
"What an old hag." Sherlock decided, slamming the door rather aggressively. John got into the driver's seat, nodding in agreement.
"What a scam." John agreed, gunning the engine and speeding off down the road. They drove all night, Sybil's words echoing off of their skulls. She was right of course, he did desire someone he couldn't have, and he had made a deal, what else had she been able to work out? Sherlock, on the other hand, was scared of what he didn't know? Did that mean the demons or John or even Victor? Victor. Apparently that name was still around, according to Sybil, Sherlock was still haunted by the loss, no matter what he said. John surely wished that wasn't true, because nothing could work between them if Sherlock still wanted Victor. Still, it could all be fake, she might have just been making things up, lucky guesses, things that every human does. Because everyone has that one crush, that one that could never be obtained no matter how hard they try, whether it be a celebrity, a friend, someone of the same gender, or even a fictional character, it hurt your heart in ways that you try to ignore. Like the dull, throbbing pain in John's heart. It was there, it was always there, making him realize it when he thought all was well, when his wounds healed and his mind was clear, he thought everything was fine... And then the pain would reappear, it would spread until the thought of Sherlock was almost unbearable because he couldn't have him. No matter how much his heart aches for him, no matter how much he does to try to be kind or considerate Sherlock's heart will belong to Victor, and Victor alone. John would never be a considerable barrier, a considered partner, because in Sherlock's eyes he was no more than a colleague a sarcastic, uncaring, stubborn colleague that would never be anything more, never have a place in his heart. They drove all the way to Maryland, a long drive of course, but in the end it was worth it. John felt much more confident now that he had the devil's shoestring in his pocket, but the witch's words still made his head ache. She had said that everyone got their wish, that demons don't cheat, but John still didn't get what he had bargained for, so what was going on? Sherlock was asleep at eight o'clock, his head bouncing slightly against the window frame. John had long since turned off the radio, so he drove in dark silence until finally he found a cheap hotel. When the engine had been turned off Sherlock woke slowly, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"Where are we?" he asked sleepily.
"Our new home, at least for now." John decided. Sherlock took the bags into the room while John paid, and soon they were both in their pajamas (Sherlock had bought John a pair as well) and in bed.
"You don't actually believe what that lady said, do you?" Sherlock mumbled, rolling over onto his side to face John.
"No, of course not." John laughed. "She makes everything up."
"So you don't actually desire someone you can't have?" Sherlock asked.
"Everyone desires someone they can't have; it's a default human setting." John pointed out.
"Yes, I suppose it is." Sherlock agreed with a sigh. What he meant by that John could only guess, but no doubt it was Victor.
"Was she right about Victor?" John asked. Sherlock sighed; obviously he didn't want to answer that question, at least not now.
"I don't know." He admitted. "And I know that's not a good answer, and you'll assume I'm avoiding the question, but I honestly don't know. My heart feels hallow, but I don't think it's only because he's gone." John's heart dared to lurch, what could that mean? Did he have unknown feelings for a certain someone? It was probably Matt, or his landlord, or the bartender, or even Madam Sybil, knowing John's putrid luck.
"It's better than yes I suppose." John decided.
"What does that mean?" Sherlock asked curiously, his bangs smeared against the pillow adorably.
"It means I never liked that boy, and I think you could do a lot better." John decided.
"Do you have anyone in mind then?" Sherlock asked with a laugh. John felt himself turn bright scarlet, and he was happy the lamp was off.
"No, no actually I don't." John muttered.
"Ya neither do I." Sherlock said with a sigh. "Matt was kind of pushy, too energetic for me I think."
"Well then I guess you're clean out of boyfriend candidates, sorry mate." John said with a laugh. He really wanted to wear a big neon hat that said Vote John for Boyfriend, but he thought even that might be a bit too secretive for Sherlock's brain.
"Well then, good night." Sherlock decided.
"Ya, good night." John agreed, rolling over and thinking that it was anything but that. Now he had good, solid proof that Sherlock saw him as nothing more than a glob of gum that was stuck to his shoe. Why couldn't John have normal relationship problems? Why couldn't he desire the one beauty girl in the grade above him, or his quirky but adorable neighbor, or even his best friend's sister? All of those miserable options seemed a lot better than fancying the boy in the bed next to his, who was so gay yet so unreachable. John really never had this problem, and never suspected that he would have this problem until a stupid man on the side of the street had shared his umbrella all those days ago. Since then they had gotten so far, they had gone from fearful strangers to dangerous demons to helpless children to desirable coworkers. John sighed, none of those positions would be of any help to him now, either way he would never be able to call Sherlock his own, and with only about a five days left on his clock, he had to accept that fact that he would die without the satisfaction.   

When John woke the sun was streaming through the streaky windows, his blankets strewn everywhere. Sherlock was still asleep in the bed next to his, his limbs everywhere and his face down in the pillow. John was slightly worried that he would suffocate like that, but he ignored him, not really in the mood for a sleepy Sherlock to be tearing his throat out. So he rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. Officially seven more days until the hell hounds would come, until he would be painfully dragged to Hell, the biggest torture chamber the universe had created, surrounded only by demons and fellow damned souls until he mutated to become the very creature he spent his life fighting. Let's just say his to-do list was pretty high about now.
"Sherlock, wake up." John groaned, looking at the clock and seeing that it was already ten o'clock. Sherlock rolled over in his sleep, but showed no signs of waking."Sherlock!" John called, lazily lobbing a pillow at his sleeping friend. Sherlock groaned loudly, but swatted blindly and refused to open his eyes.
"Come on, work to do!" John pointed out.
"We have no job; stop joking around and..." he yawned massively, "let me sleep."
"That's what you think, but we're actually going to demon proof this room."John pointed out.
"Ten more minutes." Sherlock grumbled. John sighed, but he saw no other option. It's not like they had anywhere to be. So, ten minutes later John got out of bed and threw the covers off of Sherlock, who groaned and hissed but didn't make an effort to fall back asleep. So they both got up, lazily sharing the bathroom sink to brush their teeth with their bed heads and their matching pajamas.
"So what do you mean by demon proof?" Sherlock asked, his mouth foaming toothpaste. John shrugged, spitting into the sink and washing out his mouth with water.
"It means that stupid hell creature isn't going to get in here so easily." John pointed out.
"I thought we were running from it?" Sherlock asked.
"We're done running, I'm no coward. We'll fight the bloody thing if it's the death of us." John said confidently, but his little motivational moment was ruined by Sherlock, who just started to floss his teeth delicately, making little popping noises as he moved from tooth to tooth.
"You haven't even eaten anything!" John pointed out, staring at Sherlock with annoyance in the mirror.
"It makes me feel minty fresh." Sherlock debated, stringing through his last molar and daintily throwing the floss into the trash can.
"I'm starting to wonder how I ever thought you were straight." John grumbled, walking lazily out of the bathroom and pulling on his clothes. He didn't bother making his bed or throwing his pajamas in his bags, no one was around to yell at him for being such a slob or judge him, except Sherlock, who came out and made his bed so neatly and folded his clothes neatly into his tote bag.
"So, demon proof, what exactly do we do?" Sherlock asked. John peeled the devil's shoestring, a stalky weird looking plant, from his pockets.
"First things first, we'll put this over the doors and both windows." John decided. He had five stalks, and there were two windows and one door, so he put one over the door and two on each window. "Throw me that spray can there." He decided, holding up his hand. Sherlock looked through the ammo bag to find a large bottle of red spray paint, which was actually getting kind of low.
"What are you doing with that?" Sherlock asked nervously, throwing him the bottle. John caught it easily and took a knife off of the table, cutting up the edge of the carpet and pulling it back to reveal the hardwood beneath.
"John, this is vandalism!" Sherlock pointed out, stepping away and looking around nervously, as if security cameras were watching them.
"This is survival Sherlock; I'm going to make a devil's trap, so when the demon walks into it he can't come out." John explained.
"Or she." Sherlock pointed out.
"What?" John asked, stopping in the midst of shaking the can.
"You said he, don't stereotype, I'm sure there are plenty of demon women." Sherlock pointed out.
"Yes, sorry, he or she, they." John decided, rolling his eyes. He thought it was quite unnecessary to correct something so small, but Sherlock looked pretty happy with himself and sat down on his neatly made bed. It took John a little while to draw out the circle, the most paranormal thing about the whole thing was how he could spray a perfect circle to be honest. Then it was just window dressing, adding all the little signs, symbols, and lines. Sherlock flinched every time John sprayed something onto the floor, but to be honest John had no idea what was so wrong. No one would see it anyway, so what's the fuss about? John folded the carpet back up and tucked it tightly to the wall; no one would ever know or care.
"Alright, let's carve some pentagrams into the door frame, the window frames, the door handle even." John decided.
"What will those do?" Sherlock asked.
"They ward off demons, pretty much like an anti-possession symbol, but without the fire. It's just a star in a circle, but make sure the point it up okay?"John asked, starting to dig into the window frame with the blade.
"Oh, you want me to help?" Sherlock asked, grabbing a knife as well and coming over to watch. John wasn't an expert, but he thought his little art work looked okay.
"Keep it discrete okay? We don't want to be fined money, especially since we have none." John pointed out.
"How have you not been busted by the cops yet?" Sherlock asked in mock amazement.
"I honestly have no idea, but I'm not complaining." John shrugged, carving one on the door frame.