Superlock; MoriartyxReader

Criminal

She had gone straight to 221B Baker Street. While that was good for entertainment purposes, Jim wanted to smash something. Of all the people she could know- it had to be Sherlock bloody Holmes. Not only that- but she was on his side, it appeared. From helping the curly-haired detective on cases to making him bloody tea, she helped him out all the time. Which left Jim to wonder... Why? Of all the things she could do with her incredible mind, Why would she choose to be Sherlock's little go-go girl? It was absolutely vile, and he hated it... Or rather, he was enjoying watching them prance around being little smart arse detectives. Then something... interesting happened. Two taller males came to the "holy flat" of Sherlock Holmes, and they didn't seem to be there for the big bad detective himself. No, they were there for her. Oh, and she didn't exactly seem happy to see them, nor did Johnny-Boy.
"Moran!" Jim barked, calling the sniper to his office as he watched her leave with the other two men. Something was off about the entire thing. For one, who were they, and why would she so easily trust them when they were much larger than herself? Two, where the hell were they going?
"Yeah, Boss?" Sebastian leaned against the door, cigarette hanging from his lips as he cleaned his gun.
He snapped the screen to Moran, and pointed to the cab, "Follow her." He ordered, and Moran nodded once, before rushing to fulfill his order. Sebastian tracked and traced the cab, following it to a tube station that lead to a small town outside of London, then you and the two men went inside a home with a mailbox labeled "Greenhouse Residence". The house itself was in an odd state of disrepair. The sandy paint wasn't peeling, almost like someone had freshly reapplied it, but the window sill's wood was decaying, and the curtains reminded Sebastian of the bodies he'd seen back when he was at war. Torn, and full of holes. The glass seemed awfully clean for a house with a door so ancient that it seemed that God was trying to retrieve it, one atom at a time. Their wasn't even a lawn, just tousled dirt. The pavement was uniformly cracked in front of the house, but the approaching pavement was a different story- it was solid. Perfect. The drastic differences in the home unsettled Sebastian, for a reason he couldn't quite figure out. Still, he stood a ways away, and waited. He heard a few stifled shouts, and a name being called, but that was it before the three reemerged. The two men seemed slightly injured, especially the blonde's shoulder...
"You're going to need that looked at, Dean," She said attentively to the man, and then turned to the taller, "We should also check to see if Sam's got a concussion..." The fret in her voice didn't go unnoticed, but rather, was purposefully ignored as Sebastian observed them getting into a taxi. He typed the cab number into his GPS, and began tracking it. He waited for it to get a few blocks away before following...

After a quick stop to Baker Street, the trio had retired to a motel, meaning Sebastian had all he needed for the night. He returned to his boss with the address and room number, a tad peeved he'd been downgraded to 'professional stalker' for the day.
"What did you find out, Seb?" Jim asked casually, still in the same spot he'd been when Sebastian had left. Sebastian reviewed the information in his head, picking out any small details he could. After all, Jim didn't tolerate sloths.
"After leaving Baker Street, they went to a house outside of London. A 'Greenhouse Residence', and if you'd like, I can give you the address, by I don't think it'll be necessary, because they left. The blonde's name is 'Dean', and the other's name is 'Sam'. Each suffered minor injuries while inside, but the girl appeared to be fine. I'm assuming you saw them return to Baker Street?" Jim smirked at the question. Of course he had- he'd watched the entire exchange. Watched the panic of her older brother as Mycroft brought up the meeting at the airport, and the small flicker in her eye at recounting it. Of course she hadn't told anybody- that information was hers, and hers alone.
"I did." Jim confirmed, trying not to get annoyed about the repeating information of the two men's names.
"After that, they went to a motel. Checked in under fake names." He handed the information to his boss and awaited his next command. Jim scanned the information with a deep frown and furrowed brow. It simply didn't make sense for them to use fake names, so why would they? From her brother's panic, to her giving aid to Sherlock, it just didn't add up.
He'd have to look deeper into y/n Winchester...