High School Hell (SuperWhoLock)

Chapter One

A/N: I know it says "High School' but this fanfic is set in a British Secondary school so for Americans and people who went to Middle School, I'll explain years as we go along. For now, just remember that Secondary School is 11-16.

The story takes place in Supernatural Season 1, between Sherlock Series 1 The Blind Banker and The Great Game and during Series 5 of Doctor (before The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood)

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Chapter One

Dean's POV

"So why are we going to England again?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level. Half an hour in to the flight and I was still expecting it to crash any second. Beside me, I could hear my brother's suppressed laughter. He found my phobia of flying hilarious, an opinion I did not share. Steadying his voice, I heard Sam reply "Well, there's been a large number of disappearances around a certain area of London. It could be nothing but...

"But what?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"But there's this school, slap bang in the middle, that's been getting loads of new students, and I mean loads. We're talking about 20, 30, all in one month. That's not normal Dean." I sighed. "So what d'ya reckon the link is then?" I asked, trying to take my mind of the fear that coursed through me. "I dunno," Sam sighed. "I'll have a look in the journal once we touch down." I smiled at the thought of finally meeting solid ground. "Well, you keep a lookout, I'm going to sleep." I said, pulling on the disposable eye mask I had found on my seat. The last thing I heard before drifting off was Sammy's giggling. Little bitch.

By the time I woke up again, we were on British soil. Thank God. I was shaking slightly as I walked down the ramp but more out of relief than fear. Dean Winchester does NOT tremble in fear. Never. Once we had gone through the rigorous security checks and bribed the guards not to notice the sheer amount of weaponry we were smuggling in, we took a train right into the heart of London. I couldn't help but stare at the sheer amount of people we passed. For a guy who spent most of his time in small American towns, London was a bit of shock. We both decided we'd check out the site first, see if anything was worth investigating. Our first mistake. The suburbs around the school looked fairy normal, if slightly out of place for such a bustling city. However, when we got closer, I began to sense something was up. The houses, which had once been so close together, were getting sparser and the streets were deserted. "I am definitely not liking this." I muttered, drawing my pistol. Sam did the same, keeping it by his side. Eventually we reached a section where the houses stopped abruptly, leaving what looked a little like a boundary line. The school was only about 10, 20 yards away, but something was telling me not to go forward. Ignoring that was my second mistake. "All right, here's goes," I heard Sam mutter and we both stepped forward. Then everything went black.

John's POV

I stared out of the window of our cab, watching the people walking past. Next to me, Sherlock drummed his fingers on the windowpane. "Remind me again why you took this case." I said, attempting to break the awkward silence. Sherlock sighed. "I did explain this morning." he muttered, drumming his long fingers against the window pane. I sighed. He was in one of his difficult moods, again. "Well, I didn't really understand it when you told me the first time." I admitted. Now it was Sherlock's time to sigh. "Lestrade told me about a missing persons case in London. People have been disappearing from this area for months never to be seen from again." He paused dramatically. "Until now. A couple of months ago, a woman, Lindsey Hartford, went missing after a night out with friends. Last week, Lindsey's mother received a letter from her daughter, begging for help. The letter was only half finished. Lestrade's finally given in and asked me." I sat back in my seat, thinking. Since agreeing to a flat share with the world's only Consulting Detective, I had been involved in some pretty weird stuff, but this was a whole different thing. "So where are we going then?" I asked, dreading the answer. Sherlock grinned. "The crime scene, of course."