Monsters Aren't Real (Superlock)

Chapter 19

John was very glad Sam had thought about bringing a flashlight. They were wandering around in the hallways, and there were no windows or open spaces which allowed any light to come in. If it wasn't for the flashlight, they would walk in complete darkness. So when John was staring at Sam's back while they made their way through the building, he couldn't help but wonder why he nor Sherlock had ever had thought about bringing a flashlight. It wasn't like they never needed one, quite the opposite actually. The two of them had found themselves many times in situations where a flashlight would've solved a lot of problems. Yet it seemed that to this day that the only thing Sherlock and John ever took with them was a gun.

Sam had missed John's surprised, maybe even amused look, and had flicked on the light. The beam of light swayed around the dark corridors looking for any traces of the consulting detective. Behind him, John was providing backup. With his gun in his hand, he was able to cover Sam when anything that wasn't Sherlock came rushing out of the dark.

But as John watched Sam do his work, checking every corner for movement and tensed, listening for sounds other than their own breathing and footsteps. His mind began to wander and slowly he replaced the big figure of Sam before him with his own sister, Harry. Harry, who Mycroft had claimed was a hunter too.

He wondered if she too had ever hunted at sphinxes, sneaking around abandoned buildings. He already could see her, with her hair in unkept strands, her clothes still reeking of alcohol yet her eyes sharp. He wondered if she ever brought a flashlight...

"...would've gone?"

John realised Sam had been talking to him.

The veteran slightly shook his head to clear mind.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Sam halted and turned around, the flashlight was pointed to the ground to not blind the doctor. In the shadows he looked John in the eyes as he narrowed his own slightly, wondering what John had been thinking about. You would've thought that a soldier, even a retired one, would've known better than to let his mind slip.

"I asked you if you knew where your friend would've gone first. You know, after entering a building like this it is little use to wander aimlessly around." Sam didn't say that wandering aimlessly felt exactly what he and John had been doing for the last half an hour.

Still caught up with his own thoughts, John frowned.

"I eh, think he would've gone to a certain room. No, first he would've looked for any traces left by the person he has been following. But if he didn't find those..." He was silent for a minute, and the only sound that filled the room was their own soft breathing. He continued, slower this time. "If he couldn't find those... He would've gone for the obvious route..."

"Meaning?" Sam asked as John didn't continue.

John shot his younger companion a short annoyed look, didn't he see he was thinking?

"Meaning." John said, louder than necessary. "That he would've gone to a place which seems most safe for the average person, probably a room with lights or something."

Sam cocked his head and raised his flashlight. He let it light up the damp walls around him and the floors full of broken equipment, furniture, and glass. Nowhere there was a speck of light, aside of their own.

"So he wouldn't be here." He sighed, slightly annoyed. He turned and started walking again with John quickly in tow.

The two of them made their way through the winding corridors which seemed to have no end. Sometimes they passed a room with little light from the outside, but a quick scout revealed that there hadn't been anybody in that room for the last few weeks, maybe even months. And every time Sam stood still to listen to some seemingly irrelevant noise, every time he could see that he man before him held his breath for a few seconds, John thought about whatever brought the Winchesters to this, this stalking in the dark. With Sherlock, it was simple. He did it for fun, to satisfy his morbid sense of curiosity and superiority. For John, it was a bit more complicated. But what he did not dare to admit to anybody, not even himself, was that in the end; Sherlock's and his reasoning were the same. But from the way Sam's jaw was tightened, the way his eyes flicked from side to side, searching, scanning every inch of the shadows before him; He doubted Sam had the same morbid feelings to satisfy he and Sherlock had to. But those feelings weren't the only one thing John needed to satisfy, curiosity was high on that list too.