Black eyes on Baker street.

Headache

Chapter five; Headache

Sherlock sits up in bed. Not his bed. Hotel. From the looks of it...Lincoln House Hotel.. judging by the napkins near his bed. Sherlock shakes his head and waits for his mind to wake up. The memories come flooding in. Angels. Demons. Monsters. Murder. Everything wrong. Then the headache hits. He rubs the spot on his head where the man hit him. He had not cared to harddrive his name. The name comes to him. Dean.

"Johnnn?" Sherlock calls from his bed. He gets up and stumbles into the next room.

"Well. He's awake." Dean says.

"There goes the peace." Mutters Sam.

"My head hurts. I do appreciate the early apology, Dean." Dean shrugs his shoulders.

"You weren't handling it well."

"I'm sorry that I have a hard time accepting that everything I know is a lie. What's bad is I keep looking for signs that you're lying. What's scaring me is you're telling the truth.

"Yeah.. It's tough to accept that kind of thing."

"Are there other...things out there?"

"More stuff than you want to know."

"Like?"

"Ever arrested someone the swears that they didn't murder that person? Then that someone ends up dead?"

"Yeah.. why?"

"That'd be a shifter. They can take the form of any humanlike being. I've ganked one that took the form of old monster movie monsters. Like the Wolfman and Count Dracula."

"You didn't gank him Dean. You were locked up in a chair. Dressed in Lederhosen. Jamie ganked him."

"Yeah whatever."

"Ghosts are real. Werewolves, Vampires, Zombies; real."

"Real like in the books?" John asks.

'Yes. Everything in those books is true. A prophet-"

"A prophet of the Lord? Like God? God exists? That means Satan exists too." Sherlock says raidly.

"Lucifer. He prefers Lucifer. I've met the douche. Sammy was possessed by him."

"Can we not talk about that Dean..?"

"Oh. Sure." Sherlock, John, and Lestrade are looking at the two brothers with dumbfounded looks. John looks over at Sherlock. He takes out his camera phone. He snaps a picture of Sherlock's face. The flash snaps Sherlock out the his trance.

"Why did you take a picture of me, John?"

"I'm going to frame this picture. Sherlock dumbfounded.. This should be hung in Buckingham Palace." Sherlock is about to reply to John but decides against it.

"Alright. What's the plan." Sherlock asks Dean.

"Well. You're detectives. Track down our killer. Our demon seems pretty attached to it's meatsuit.

"Hair color?"

"Red."

"Narrows it down. Kaleb was killed near his apartment. Blood stains. His body was left at a cafe'. They had stopped there earlier. I asked the manager. I'm guessing they were walking down Commercial Street. The manager said our mystery woman looked like a stripper. Nearest gentleman's club to the caf'e.... White's Gentleman's Club. Let's start there." Sam and Dean are looking at Sherlock with a look of utter shock. John is smiling and nodding. Lestrade rolls his eyes.

"That's amazing."

"Yeah. He's normally like that, Dean. You should try living together."

"You live together? Are you..?"

"Oh no no no no no no no. Flatmates. That's it."

"Oh.."

"Well, lets get a move on." Sherlock states. "I'll hail a taxi."

"That will not be required." Cas says.

"How so?"

"Everyone, take hold on Cas' trench coat."

"If you say so, Sam."

"Why?" Sherlock asks. Cas grabs Sherlock's scarf.

"Hold on." With a sound of fluttering, they are gone.