Love And Hate Are One And The Same No? A Sherlock x Reader

A Bloody Wolf

A/N

When this got published I didn't realize it didn't publish all of it, so I rewrote all that I could remember, which it wasn't much but I rather have all the parts I wanted then only 3/4 of it.

At the actual crime scene Sherlock was working his magic deducting such things it was a crime of opportunity, and that it was a savage one at that. Blood was everywhere, covering most of the fish smelling alley. Lestrade was right there was a bloody note, not that it was much help.

"Wolf," John read, "Basically speaks for itself doesn't it Sherlock?"

"That it does, maybe those Americans were right." Sherlock revealed under his breath.

"Shouldn't we be asking for their help then?"

"We know where to find them if we need it."

Donavan push between the two, sneering "Where's your little girlfriend freak? I'd like to have a word with her."

"She's at home recuperating," Sherlock answered finding it unnecessary to look up from an interesting print, "I do hope you don't expect her to apologize for that faded black eye you're sporting. From what I heard it was well deserved, everyone comments on my manners yet others like you get by."

Snickers were heard from various people causing the snarky diva to scoff and stomp away.

"Why do you insist on aggravating the she beast Sherlock?"

"Only speaking the truth John, only the truth." he began to stalk off to the end of the alley presumably to follow the vague trail. He made a mental note of how the paw prints merged into foot prints.

Lestrade decided then was a good moment to add his two cents, "Looks like we had someone prance around the crime scene before we were called in, though who would walk around barefoot in this weather is beyond me."

"A lot is beyond you Lestrade. I'll let you know when I've solved the case. Come John." And with that they left with a flurry of coat tails and scarves.

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A few blocks away your new group were having slightly more luck it seemed, Castiel found more evidence of the werewolf, Jack even found clothing fragments.

You unfortunately found it mostly hard to breath. The over bearing stench of dead fish and garbage paired with your still healing ribs had you questioning whether you should had listened to Sherlock. Though the second one of the two heavenly beings suggested it they quickly learned to not do it again. "The day I admit I should've stayed at home the world will be ending and even then I wont give that pompous detective the satisfaction of letting him know he's right maybe then he'll rethink telling me to stay home." So the search continued until you could practically watch the hours pass.

After asking another of the city's homeless if they saw anything and yet another blank stare as a response you were almost ready to throw in the towel when you got a call from the wannabe magician himself. "Arthur you have no idea how amazingly perfect your called was timed."

"I can only imagine what that could mean and I feel it's better that I don't. I was just calling to check on you love since you seem to forget how to do that yourself."

"I don't necessarily forget how to do it I just forget to do it Arty. Now I'm curious do you happen to know anything about werewolves, more specifically on how to find them?" You question sweetly.

You had to check your phone to make sure he was still on the line, when a crash from it caused you to nearly drop the device. "Arthur? Are you ok?!"

A faint response could barely be heard over the commotion, "I'm fine love just digging for a particular book, I'll call you after I find it in this mess, I swear this is the last time I let Vlad try to summon at my house." Then the line went silent.

As you starred at your reflection you couldn't help but ponder the strangeness of the situation, then you noticed that you had wandered away from your little group in your attempt at finding privacy. The area looked similar to the one you first started searching in, the atmosphere just felt more ominous. A whimpering had made itself obvious after you attempted walking past a particularly dark corner. Curiosity got the best of you as you crouched down to look behind a slab of dry rot wood, a small figure shifted as another whimper could be heard. It seemed to notice you and moved further back not that there was much back that it could move too.

"Are you ok sweetie?" You gently ask, the child made to speak but it was so low you did not quite hear. "Say that again."

"Please don't hurt me, I'm sorry I didn't do what I was supposed to."

"It's ok I'm not going to hurt you," as gently as possible you reached for the child, "I promise I'm not going to get mad that you didn't do something. I honestly just want to help, you seem hurt and I bet you're hungry." This solicited a slow nod, then with a pace that could make time slow down the child immerged from their hiding spot. With as much care as carrying an ancient porcelain doll you lifted the child, noting that they were in need of a bath. And in desperate need of nourishment, even despite their small size the strain was causing the ache in your ribs to worse.

Castiel came running up at that moment, "(Y/N) we haven't found any clues besides traces of the werewolf." He paused with a look of confusion. "Why do you have a child?"

"I'm taking them home, it's obvious they need help, besides the signs of abuse they've been neglected."

"Dean won't agree with this." His tone wasn't harsh at all but the child whimpered clinging to you tighter.

"I don't need his permission to do what I want Castiel, if he has anything to say about it I'll make sure he knows that."

"But."

"No buts Castiel if Dean doesn't like it he can walk around London until he figures out how to get back to 221 B Baker street for all I care." With that you made your exit back to the car.