Hello readers all! So this is my first published fan fiction work. Wish me luck, I suppose? Also tell me honestly what you think please? Anyway, just for a little bit of background on the story, I highly recommend that you be caught up with or at least extremely well versed with all three shows involved: Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock. There are a couple Supernatural spoilers in case you're not all caught up. In the Doctor Who universe, this story takes place sometime in season 6, while the Doctor is traveling with Amy and Rory. In the Supernatural universe, it is sometime during season 8. In the Sherlock universe, it is sometime after The Hounds of Baskerville, but before the Reichenbach Fall. I wrote it to be as though Moriarty did the events that take place in this story instead of the events that occurred in the Reichenbach Fall. Okay sorry for blabbering on, now on with the show!
Prologue
The night was calm with the sounds of crickets chirping in the warm June air as a warm breeze ruffled the grass they lay in, but the man in the black coat did not care about any of it. He moved silently out of habit, not for fear of disturbing his fellow creatures of the night. No, this was a man who knew the value of always having all of the elements on his side, including the first and most important of all: surprise. Always stay one step ahead. Always plan for every possibility. And never tell anyone everything.
That was how a spider maintained the center of his web.
He strode up to the door of an old dirty motel on the side of the road and gave it a knock, taking a deep breath and beginning to let himself sink into character. It was never hard, and no one ever noticed. Well, most people never noticed, anyway; the ordinary ones never noticed. Those silly ordinary people. The useless and weak. By the time the man heard footsteps from within the room beyond, scrambling to see who it was and pausing when they realized they did not recognize his face, the man had temporarily disappeared into the identity he would now be assuming for however long it took to extract the information he needed.
"Please, I need some help? I was told the two of you could help me. You're the Winchesters, right?"
There was silence inside. Finally, a gruff voice asked, "How did know to come here?"
"An old friend of mine said you could help me if I ever couldn't get in touch with him. His name is Bobby Singer."
There was the sound of the door unlatching and slowly it began to creak open. A pair of green eyes lined with dark circles peered out at him suspiciously.
"You knew Bobby?" the Winchester asked, his hard expression unfaltering but a slight dip in his voice giving his true emotions away. Most people might not have noticed this, but the man in the black coat was not most people. And he prided himself on that. He made sure to assume an expression of utmost concern, though he knew exactly what had happened to Bobby Singer.
"What do you mean 'knew'? Has something happened?"
"Bobby Singer is dead. Has been for months now."
"Oh no! Well this is awful, I… I don't know what to say. I've been in hiding for a few months, and I've been out of touch, I had no idea… I'm so sorry…"
"Hiding from what?" the Winchester seemed tired, but opened the door a bit wider, ready to listen.
"A demon. A powerful one. He's on my tail. I need you to teach me everything you know about hunting them. How do you trap them? How do you fight them?"
"Look… This sounds like a big job. Why don't you leave it up to the professionals? Sam and I, we can go in and take this son of a bitch down for you. It's what we do."
"Oh really? Well that would be wonderful! Thank you, I really can't tell you—"
But the man's words were cut off by a splash of cold water to his face. He blinked for a moment in confusion, fighting down rage that had risen inside him at the indignity. He barely managed to keep it under control. When he opened his eyes, wiping the water away from them, another Winchester was standing behind the first, this one much taller and holding a small flask.
"Sorry, had to check," he said, sheepishly.
"Lesson number one: holy water," the brother with the green eyes told him, poorly attempting to conceal a lopsided smirk. "I'm Dean Winchester. This is my brother, Sam. You got a name?"
"Right, sorry. My name is Jim. Jim Moore."
"Alright. Well, Jim Moore, it looks like we're in business."