Monsters Aren't Real (Superlock)

Chapter 1

"So, why are we in London again?"

Sam sighed again.

"Dean, it's the least we can do for Bobby, especially after he helped us with that vampire nest a few months ago."

Dean slumped his shoulders. Of course he didn't mind helping Bobby, but why London? His last thought was said outloud.

"And I mean, it's not that I don't like Downtown Abby or something, but why couldn't he just send us somewhere nice and sunny? Maybe to a haunted beach house in California? Why did we end up being the ones who he send to London?"

This time Sam stopped walking and halted Dean in the process. After a quick look around he saw that nobody on the busy street was close enough to hear his hushed voice.

"Look, Bobby lost contact with another hunter he knew here. He said that the guy went to London to do some research and that is the last thing he heard from him. So he wants us to look if we can find some information on him."

Dean pulled a face.

"Fine, but what are the other British hunters doing, eh? Hunting Leprechauns?"

Sam slightly cocked his head and then shook it.

"You're actually impossible." He turned away and started walking.

It looked like it would rain soon, so they were making their way back to the motel after grabbing a quick lunch. Ever since they had come off the plane Dean hadn't stopped complaining. First it was the weather, next it was the food, after that it was the scenery and now he seemed to be all out of subjects to complain about. He must have come to the conclusion that he actually didn't need a subject to moan about, but that he just could whine about everything that would come up.

Dean had to quicken his pace to not fall behind his brother.

"Okay fine! But how are you planning on finding someone in London? I mean, this city is overflowing with people! It's like looking for a needle in a pile of fish-eating stifflips!"

Sam glanced at his brother, Dean had a point. London was one of the biggest cities in England. To find a person here without a clue where to find him would be tricky, to find a hunter who was probably hiding would be impossible, but they did have a clue.

"Bobby said that we should look for a guy named Kevin Thompson, we can recognise him by a snake tattoo on his neck."

Dean chuckled.

"Classy."

"Yeah, Bobby also said that Kevin would be checking the London archives. That's the last he heard from him. And that was almost a month ago."

"And tell me again why-"

Sam interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

"Dean, stop, please."

This time it was Deans who sighed.

"Fine."

They walked in silence for a while when Sam said.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" He replied back.

"Leprechauns are Irish, not British." Sam said with his signature bitch face.

-~o0o~-

Sherlock was bored.

John was out getting groceries. He had hid his gun, and hadn't hidden it in the normal hiding spots so if he wanted to find it he would have to turn the apartment upside down, and Sherlock wasn't sure if John would appreciate that. The fingernails that were lying in acid for his research 'effect of acid on different parts of the body' still had to lay for at least two hours before he could look at the results. John had broken his violin's bow when he had accidentally sat on it, blaming him for not putting it away properly. Obviously it hadn't been his fault. As John clearly could have seen the place where his violin normally stood had been occupied by a skeleton on a stand. How he had aquired said skeleton is a different story. But as the standerd spot wasn't an option the next best thing was of course John's chair. There wasn't anything on it and the cushions would protect his violin and bow from any humidity on the floor and Sherlock would be sure that he wouldn't accidentally step on it. Of course he would never step on something that laid on the floor, but in his head it was very likely that a murderer would come crashing into his apartment and step on his violin, and that of course would be tragic. However he hadn't thought that John wouldn't look before sitting down. And thus had John broken his bow and now Sherlock was left with nothing to do.