SuperWhoLock

Chapter Five - Sherlock

"Well I'm sure we'll find your dad, alright?" John said reassuringly to the girl.

He stood up and looked around the scene. Was Sherlock still in the alley? John started to head down into the alley when Lestrade tapped his shoulder. "Sherlock's not with you, right?"

John shook his head. "I thought he was in the alleyway."

Greg furrowed his eyebrows. "I thought he was too, but there's absolutely no trace of him being there."

John knew he shouldn't worry, Sherlock had probably just caught a cab back to Baker Street, but something seemed off about the situation.

John sighed and shook it off. "I'm sure he just left to go back home. I'll go back and try to find him." He jogged up to the curb, giving Lestrade a quick wave goodbye, and hailed a cab.

***

When John arrived at Baker Street, it seemed as empty as when they had left. He hopped up the steps and unlocked the door.

Mrs. Hudson, their elderly landlady was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up to Sherlock and John's flat. She turned to John. "John! Sherlock is up in your flat with-"

He hopped up the stairs, not stopping to listen to Mrs. Hudson. When John reached the cracked door to the flat, he heard multiple voices coming from inside.

John looked down at Mrs. Hudson, still standing at the bottom of the stairs and she whispered, "Sherlock let satanists into your flat, dear!" She looked quite terrified.

John wasn't really sure if she was telling the truth, or if he had heard her wrong. But he pushed open the door and was met with possibly the strangest thing he had ever seen-spray-painted on the carpet in front of the door was a large, strangely cultic-looking symbol. In the middle of the symbol was a man in a black suit, who seemed to be standing in the exact middle. Standing behind the man in the black suit were two young men, one with long brown hair; he was kneeling over another cultic symbol with a bowl and some different ingredients inside it. The other young man had bright green eyes and light brown hair, he held a silver pistol and knife with some symbols etched into it.

Beyond those two men, standing by the window were two men in trench coats, a young blonde woman and a stone angel statue in a ring of fire.

John stepped into the flat a little more, conscious of everyone staring at him, and looked over to the fireplace. Sure enough, Sherlock sat there in his armchair. Though his eyes were filled with emotions that John had never seen before as Sherlock's blue eyes rested on his friend.

John dropped his pistol. "What the hell is this, Sherlock?!"

He was suddenly very angry now and waved his arms at the other people. "Who the hell are they?!" John's eyes rested on one of the men by the window, with spikey hair and a brown trench coat. "Is that-"

Sherlock's eyes began to water, he quickly wiped them. Was he crying..?

The man in the black suit, standing inside the symbol turned to face John. "Well, this certainly is awkward." He said in an amused tone.

"John, meet the Doctor-" Sherlock said, clearing his throat, and he pointed to the man in the brown trench coat. "Rose, Castiel, Sam, Dean and our new friend, Crowley." Sherlock motioned to the man in the black suit.

"I have no intentions of being your best friend, Sherlock." Crowley said, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock and Crowley's eyes met. "I wasn't implying that." Sherlock hissed. "It was sarcasm.." He mumbled.

Rose cleared her throat. "I think you ought to clear this up for Dr. Watson."

"Good idea, Rose! Sit down, John. Please." The Doctor said in a cheerful tone.

***

"Aliens." John stated, trying to soak all this in. He looked to Sam, Dean, Castiel and Crowley, especially Crowley. "Demons?"

Everyone in the room shook their heads yes.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay then."

He looked at Sherlock. "Okay.

"I could use my blogger on this case." Sherlock said, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

"Yeah, but no blogging about this." Sam said.

"We have guns." Dean added with a crooked grin. Americans.

John nodded and looked at the floor. Everyone went back to their work. Sam, Dean and Cas walked over to Crowley. (who was still standing in the middle of the devil's trap, as they called it.) And Rose and the Doctor went back to the stone statue. The weeping angel.

John looked up to Sherlock, who remained seated in his armchair across from John's.

"How long were you in 1887, Sherlock?" He asked.

"12 months." Sherlock stated quietly, closing his eyes. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it.

But Sherlock had been in the past for a whole year? John stared at him. Had Sherlock missed John that much?

John decided to leave Sherlock alone, as he had retreated into his mind palace.

***

Sherlock looked through the information he had stored about the supernatural things. He'd gathered a lot more information about these things since his year of living with Dean Winchester.

He was arrogant at times, but a loyal friend. Dean would never be John Watson though.

Sherlock turned to his memories, looking back at his year in 1887 with Dean.

"The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?" Sherlock stared at Dean, holding up a newspaper.

"I think it's a good cover. You're the fictional detective and I guess I'm Dr. Watson." Dean chuckled.

Sherlock said nothing.

"If you do end up trying to solve a case. People will just think we're some crazy cosplayers who are really getting into the roles." Dean smirked, pushing his hair back.

"Cosplayers?" Sherlock stared at a wall. There was nothing about cosplayers in his mind palace.

Dean sighed. "Ah nevermind."

Sherlock pulled up the newspaper, reading the short story again. A Study in Scarlet, Dean had named it. Sherlock had told him about John's blogging and how their first case was named A Study in Pink. Dean thought it would be a good idea to hire a 'blogger' in this age. They found an old man named Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and pitched him a story. Without saying that Sherlock was w real man of course.

"Mr. Doyle described your nose wrong." Dean laughed, sitting down.

Sherlock gave him a menacing stare and Dean piped down, though still trying to hide a smirk.

"Sherlock?" A voice said. "Hey, vatican cameos!"

Sherlock snapped out of his trance. Dean stood in front of his chair, leaning down to see his face. "We need you, the angel's trying to talk to us."