Prologue

I wrote this after watching City of Angels for the first time in years. Oh, and I can't wait for you the read the ending!

Those that are worried about the ending, don't worry. This will not end like the movie did. And everyone will make an appearance (major characters only, except Moriarty). But give it time. I have to set up the story.

The moon came out from behind the clouds, shining its pale light down into the streets of London. People were making their last rounds of the day before turning in for the night; taking taxi cabs home, walking down the streets on their way from dinner or a movie, gathering with friends for a late night drink. Overall, it was a regular night in the city. Nothing out of the ordinary.

(Please don't let them find me.)

No one was looking down the dark alley between the two closed stores at the end of the street. No one was seeing the young man that crouched hidden behind several trash bins and a skip.

(Please let them give up and leave.)

The man had his arms wrapped around his bent legs, and he was trembling from head to foot. He kept peeking out from behind the bins, glancing up at the entrance of the alley. His gaze would then slide all over the alley and towards the corner where a man all in black stood, hands in his pockets.

(Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please…)

The man in black quirked his head to the side, watching the young man with interest. He was tall with dark black hair and sharp blue eyes. He wore all black with a long black scarf knotted loosely over his sternum and a long black coat. He stared at the young man crouched twenty feet from him, brows knitted together in concern. He then slowly slid his gaze up towards the mouth of the alley in expectation.

"Down here!"

(No!)

The young man panicked and jumped, knocking his legs into the trash bins. They made a loud clatter as two men ran into the alley, all hooded sweatshirts and baggy pants. The young man bolted out from behind the bins and tried to make a run for it past the two hoodlums.

"Hey!"

The two thugs pounced on the young man, taking him quickly down to the pavement.

"Oh, God, no! Please!"

The two of them took turns punching and kicking the man for a moment before one of them took out a gun and fired two shots into the man's abdomen. Screams were heard from the street nearby, and the two criminals turned tail and ran.

The man in black watched them leave before he turned his gaze slowly towards the young man bleeding in the alley. He slowly stepped away from the wall and approached the man, kneeling next to him. The young man's gaze moved towards him, staring up at him in a plea for help.

(Oh, God, please don't let me die.)

He was gasping in pain as blood pooled on his shirt.

(It hurts so much…)

The man in black reached his hand slowly forward towards the young man.

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed a woman as she rushed into the alley.

She hurried forward and knelt next to the young man, causing the man in black to pull his hand back.

"It's okay," she told the young man. "Help is on its way. You're going to be okay."

A man ran into the alley, a phone to his ear. The woman placed her hands on the gunshot wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

The young man stared up at the man in black, who was kneeling next to his head. "Help…"

"It's okay," the woman reassured him, tears forming in her eyes. "Help is coming. Just hold on for me."

The man hung up the phone. "The ambulance is almost here." He knelt down on the other side of the man. "What can I do?"

"Your jacket," said the woman.

The man immediately ripped his jacket off and passed it over to the woman, who pressed it down onto the young man's stomach.

"Am I…am I gonna die?" the young man asked, his voice barely above a whisper and his eyes still on the man in black next to him.

"No," said the woman, shaking her head as tears fell down his face, "no, you're not."

The man in black only tilted his head as his concerned gaze never wavered.

The ambulance soon arrived, and they loaded the young man into it as the man in black rose to his feet and followed them into the back of it. He sat next to the young man's gurney, and the young man did nothing but watch him the whole way.

"Hey, stay with us," said the paramedic.

The young man's eyes had slid closed as the heart monitor let out a long, high-pitched tone.

"He's coding!" said the paramedic.

He put the oxygen mask aside and placed his hands over the young man's heart, starting CPR. He grabbed the oxygen mask again and gave it two squeezes.

"Come on!" said the paramedic, going back to compressions.

The man in black stood at the doors of the ambulance, staring at the young man on the gurney as they tried to revive him. The young man stood next to him, staring down at his own body as the paramedic continued the compressions.

"Why?" asked the young man.

"Because that's how things are, Matthew," the man in black answered him in a deep baritone voice.

The young man, Matthew, looked at him, eyes wide. "Are you God?"

The man in black looked at him. "No. My name is William."

"Where are you taking me?" asked Matthew.

"Home," said William, turning towards him and holding out his hand.

Matthew looked down at his hand and then back up at William. He reached forward and took William's hand, and they turned towards the back doors of the ambulance, stepping through them and onto the street as the street lamp grew brighter above them.

William stood in the cold, empty room, his hands clasped behind his back and eyes closed as he reveled in the silence around him.

"Why, William?"

William opened his eyes to see a man dressed in black just as he was standing at the examination table across from him.

"Why here, William?" asked the man, looking around the morgue in disdain.

William closed his eyes once again. "It's quiet."

"We're not supposed to want the quiet," the man told him. "We hear the humans' thoughts for a reason: to help them."

William opened his eyes as he pulled his arms from behind him to hang at his sides. "All those voices, all that witless babble; it's…it's maddening."

The man looked around at their surroundings. "Why must you always gravitate towards the macabre, brother mine?"

"Because regular life is terribly predictable, Michael," William told him.

"But a morgue?" asked Michael. "We are meant to protect life…not death."

"And yet, we ferry dead souls to the other side," said William.

"To prolong that life…just not in the way you think," said Michael.

William rolled his eyes and turned away from his brother.

"William, how many times have I vouched for you?" said Michael. "Any more missteps from you, and they'll demote you."

William scoffed, turning towards the drawers behind him. "How much more can they demote me?"

"They'll keep you up there," Michael spoke in a quiet voice.

William froze and stared in alarm, his whole body tensing up.

"And you'll never get to return here," said Michael.

William finally bowed his head in defeat.

Michael's hand landed on William's shoulder in comfort. "Try to play along. You might actually enjoy it one day."

William sighed dejectedly as Michael's hand vanished from his shoulder. He turned his head to see what he had known he would find: an empty room. "Not much chance of that…brother mine."

Yes, William is Sherlock and Michael is Mycroft. Sherlock and Mycroft just didn't seem like angel names. And technically William is Sherlock's real name.