This is just a thing that's been floating around my mind for a little while...please, R+R :)

The Dämonisch Enigma

Chapter One: "Boring!...wait, what!?"

"There's been another one, Sherlock."

Sherlock Holmes didn't even look up from his experiment to acknowledge Detective Inspector Lestrade's presence. The officer found it highly frustrating.

"Sherlock! We need you to come in on this!"

"Boring."

"What's boring about murder? I thought brutal killing was like Christmas for you!"

The consulting detective let out an exasperated sigh.

"You've obviously got a bog-standard serial killer on your hands. Surely you, the Metropolitan Police, can handle this on your own? God, I didn't think you were all that dim! It's a boring murderer, so very uncreative, and I. Am. Not. Interested!"

"Fine. Whatever. We've got a couple of guys from across the pond anyway. They've been wanting to look into it, but I said I'd consult you first. Seeing as you're not interested, I'll hand the case over to them. FBI."

Sherlock looked at the older man, perplexed.

"Americans? Why would they be interested in a case over here?"

"No, I'm not discussing it with you any further, Sherlock."

But the younger Holmes was curious now. Never before had the FBI interfered with a British case.

"Greg, wait," Sherlock said quickly before the Inspector left, "Maybe I will…take a look…you know…just to be absolutely sure it's a boring one…"

Lestrade rolled his eyes. Sherlock Holmes, feeling threatened by a couple of yanks, that's a first!

"Right then," he stated, "New Scotland Yard, one hour."

"Tell me, why are we going to England? Also, how did you talk me into getting on a freakin' plane anyway?"

"Dean, you know as well as I do that this string of killings is demonic, you know, lightning storms, cattle mutilations…"

"Aren't there any British hunters who could handle it?"

"Dead. All of them."

Dean Winchester raised his eyebrows.

"Every single one."

He let out a low whistle.

"Demons?"

"As far as I know. Didn't you read the case file I gave you?"

Dean feigned innocence.

"Pssssh! Yeah! 'Course I did! I read the hell outta that thing, cover to cover-"

"Dean!"

"What? I told you, I read it!"

"Well if you had in fact read it, you'd know by all the vics' names that they're all hunters. They're all in dad's journal.

"Oh. Right. So, demons."

"Like I said, that's my guess. Pretty sure."

The plane shuddered, and so did the older Winchester.

"Dude, gun, mouth, now."

"You're a big baby."

"John. Come on. Murder."

"Hold on, let me get my coat, it's just in-"

"No time! Murder, John! Murder!"

Dr. Watson sighed, resigned.

"…Wait…I thought you weren't taking the 'boring' serial murder case?"

"There's Americans interested in it, John. FBI. I need to see what's got them on it!"

John understood. Sherlock couldn't have anyone stealing his thunder. He hailed a cab and the two men climbed in.

"New Scotland Yard, please."

"Hi, uh, Detective Inspector Lestrade. Agents Banner and Stark, FBI."

The brothers showed their badges.

"Gentlemen, good to meet you. Unfortunately you'll have to wait for a while, one of our…well he's not really a part of our team, as such…our consulting detective is looking at the bodies currently, you can go ahead when he's done. Please, take a seat."

The Winchesters sat as coffee was offered to each of them.

'Consulting detective?" Dean hissed, "What, are they just making up job titles now?"

"Dean, I've seen this guy's website...'The Science of Deduction'…he's a genius…like, majorly…"

"Still, I've never heard of a 'consulting detective' before…"

A new voice joined their hushed conversation, a deep baritone.

"I wouldn't expect you to have, Agent…" Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "Stark…"

The brothers' heads snapped up, taking in the lean figure in the doorway. Sam gave an awkward smile to his brother.

"Mr. Holmes! It's great to meet you, I'm a huge fan of your website, you are-"

"Orphans. Both of you. Brothers, obviously. By the way you," Sherlock motioned to Dean, "Hold yourself and the look in your eyes, you've seen bad things. Very bad things. You, tall person, not as surly as your obviously older brother. More…puppy-like. You're not FBI, you're not even police, going by your cheap suits and obviously British-made handguns, if you were FBI you'd have clearance for your own firearms. You, you were nervous on the flight over, nervous flier obviously, going by your freshly chewed nails and the crescent marks on your palms, you've been clenching your fists for some time, possibly because you're simply afraid of flying, but more likely due to the heavy turbulence on the way over the Atlantic."

"What the hell-"

"Your mother died when you were very young, your father more recently, but still a while ago. She was murdered, obviously, by the way you flinched when I mentioned her because even though it was so long ago it still hurts, so forcibly taken away from you. Your father, same situation, although you don't look upset by my speaking of him, tells me he was abusive then. Likely an alcoholic after your mother's death. Unhappy childhoods, unhappy adult lives, mostly for you 'Stark'," he turned to Sam, "You had a chance to be happy, and you were for a short while, judging by that harsh look you just shot your brother I'd say he was the one who cut your happiness short. Abusive, controlling father, created a controlling son and brother too, you wanted out, to get away, and you did, university absolutely. Being intellectual, I'd say Law, just a guess. You look sad when I mention university, in your eyes, so something must have happened, something distressing, extremely so. Going by your age, you're young, it could only possibly be a death, someone close to you, a girlfriend probably, with horrific circumstances. Shortly after, you left, not that you wanted to leave behind your education, you just couldn't live with the reminder of that event looming over you at every turn, am I wrong?"

Dean stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

"Dude…what…"

"I..-I don't even…-how…"

Sherlock smirked. Sam regained his composure.

"That was…that was one hundred per cent correct. Oh my god, I knew you were good but-"

"I'm the best."

"Oh, so modest too," Dean muttered.

Sherlock's icy gaze fixed on him. Oh crap.

"What's the point n modesty? It's stupid, I am the best at what I do and I know it. Now, your real names."

"Uh, I, um, -I'm Sam Winchester, and this is Dean…we…-we're not FBI agents, like you said…we're still investigating the murders though…"

"Why, what would normal people like you possibly know about detective work?"

Dean was done, he had had enough, more than enough.

"Listen, pal, we're gonna look at the bodies, and you're gonna shut your piehole, how about that?"

"Well that's just rude-"

"Oh my god do you hear yourself you annoying dick? Shut up already!" Dean shoved past the dark-haired man, into the morgue.

"Uh…sorry about that he's just…" Sam made an unintelligible noise, slipping past the consulting detective.

Sherlock huffed, and followed the Winchester into the morgue.

"Molly, do not let these men see the bodies they are not-"

"Shut it, buddy!" Dean held up his badge, and Sam dragged the younger Holmes out of the white room.

"FBI, Molly was it? Is that guy always so annoying?"

Molly was staring in horror after Sam and Sherlock.

"He..-he's not annoying at all…he's…-he's special-"

"Oh right, so special as in like-"

"No, no, god no, he's just different. He's a genius, he's brillian-"

"Yeah okay, so can I see those bodies or what?" Dean winked at her.

"Oh…um…n-no, I'm afraid not…Sherlock…he requested they be given back to the families immediately, the paperwork's been processed…I didn't know anyone else would want to see them I-"

"Hey, hey, calm down, it's okay, really," Dean attempted to calm the almost hyperventilating Molly Hooper, "We'll just…consult…your 'colleague'…"

"Oh he's not my colleague, he's-"

"Your boyfriend?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"No! No, of course not, he's no one's boyfriend I-"

"So…you're single then, Molly?" Dean half-smiled.

Molly found herself become flustered, a blush rising in her cheeks.

"I…yes, I suppose I am…"

"Well, here is my card, Miss…uh…"

"Holmes! OH! I mean..-I mean Hooper…Molly Hooper…"

"Miss Hooper," Dean smiled, "You just give me a call if any more bodies like the ones before come in, okay?"

"Y-yes of course…Mr…Stark…"

Dean winked at her, flashing a toothy grin, before he turned and left.

"Did you smell it, like, as soon as we walked in?" Dean looked at his brother.

"Yeah, sulphur, super strong. We were right after all, good thing we came."

"You know," Sherlock spoke up, "I'd really appreciate if you'd let go of me, you great big brute."

Sam released the curly-haired man, who then dusted himself down.

"Tell us," Dean spoke to the consulting detective, "Anything strange about the bodies?"

Sherlock snorted.

"Other than the horrendously odious sulphuric smell? No."

"Any idea about the cause of death?"
"Severe physical trauma, obviously."

The brothers exchanged knowing looks, and Dean nodded.

"Okay then, we have everything we need, thank you for your co-operation."

The brother exchanged another look as Sherlock studied them, bemused.

"It's not a serial killer," he said suddenly.

Sam furrowed his brow.

"Uh…of course it's a serial killer…"

"No," Sherlock's eyes gleamed, "No, if it was a serial killer you wouldn't be here. Investigative work as a hobby? Please. Who does that for fun? Well, I do, but I'm paid sometimes…you aren't getting paid, that much is obvious, so why are you here, what have I missed, OH GOD!"

The Winchesters were taken aback by the detective's sudden outburst.

"And you two, you know what's going on, how is it you know and I don't, how can you know something and I've missed it!?"

"Ha ha…well, not everyone can be right all of the ti-"

"But I AM! I am always right in my work!"

Dean smiled smugly.

"Well y-"

"I demand you tell me!" Sherlock said adamantly.

"Demons," Sam said quickly.

Sherlock took a moment to process the statement.

"…Demons…?"

"Demons."

"Okay then. How do you find demons?"

"Wait…you actually believe us? You're not gonna, I don't know, call us crazy Satanists or something?"

"I'm choosing to believe you. I have no explanation for these deaths. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

There will be more, please review x