Ok, so now for something a little different for me. LOL Thought I would try my hand at a crossover. But I thought combining two of my favorite shows could be fun! So here we go! Partial AU, Two years past Riechenbach, Sherlock is back. As for the Supernatural part, this would obviously be prior to season 8 due to some readers possibly not having been able to see it yet. But believe, this will be Sherlolly. But it will take time :D Be prepared for plenty of twists :)
Chapter one
Dean walks into the motel room, covered in dirt and carting a cold six pack.
"Well, that was a collosal waste of time. " Dean said, placing the six pack in the small frig, withdrawing two and handing one to his brother Sam.
"Yeah. Well, it was a long shot, anyway. " Sam said, taking the beer and looking back at the laptop. " But... I have an idea. "
"I'll take anything at this point. " Dean settles himself in the chair opposite Sam's at the table.
"OK... " Sam gives an unsure look at his brother before forging ahead. "We've been looking for Crowley for months now. I don't think... I... I think he's left the states. "
Dean gives Sam a look of disgust.
"To where? Please tell me Mexico. Senorita's ... I can deal with that. " A spark of hope shining in his eyes.
"Um...no. Look, from the signs... I think he made his way back to Europe. "
"Sam, no. You know I hate to fly. "
"I know that. But... so does Crowley. "
"Man, come on... you don't know that he's there. Or that if we DO ...fly... over there we will have any more luck finding him. "
"No. That's true. But... I think I know of someone who can. "
"Another hunter? "
"Not...exactly. "
"What does not exactly mean? "
Sam sat back and turned his laptop to face Dean.
"Some guys blog? You think this Dr. Watson is going to be able to help?"
"Not by himself, no. But you should read this stuff. He works for this..." Sam looks at the screen again. " ...consulting detective. A Sherlock Holmes. Apparently the man is inhumanly good at deducing ...well... everything. "
"I don't see how much good that will be when we have to face him. "
"We don't need him to face Crowley. Just to find him. Maybe figure out his next move. "
"Still, I don't like this, Sam. What signs have you gotten that make you think Europe anyway? "
"Well, I have been reading this blog. This Mr. Holmes had a...arch enemy of sorts. A guy who seems almost a human version of Crowley. A Jim Moriarty. A couple years ago, Sherlock faked his death to try to protect his friends from the man, and said that Moriarty shot himself just prior. But no one found his body, and sightings have been popping up left and right in the last few months. They mostly try to put it to the same level as Elvis sighting, but this guy... Dean, he was seriously connected. "
"So, you are thinking this Moriarty guy is a demon? "
"Could be. Or maybe he was just a really bad guy... but one that had a body now open... "
"Shit. I still don't like this. "
"Like that we might know something Crowley doesn't know we know? Look, this Sherlock Holme is best for this. He is the most familiar with Moriarty. He could be a lot of help. "
"He's not a hunter. He won't be prepared. He might not even be willing to help. Not that he'd believe it anyway. "
"I thought that we be an argument. So, I kind of already sent someone to feel him out. "
"Who? "
oOo
It was nearing half past seven in the morning when John finally came in after a long night with his latest girlfriend. Sherlock was already at the table, ignoring the food Mrs. Hudson had prepared for them. He was perusing his paper, not acknowledging his flat mate as he entered, or the look of anger on his face.
"Well, then... guess what I spent all night doing? " John said gruffly.
"Im sure I do not want the details, John. "
"Too bad. Instead of a nice night with Amber, I spent it arguing. About YOU again. Do you HAVE to text me every five minutes? Can't I have a night off? "
"Just sparing you from a tedious evening. It really wasn't going anywhere, John. "
"Not as long as you don't keep your nose out of my affiars. "
"Nice choice of words. "
"Sherlock. I mean it. You can't behave like a spoiled brat who needs constant attention every time I get a new bird. "
Sherlock lifted his paper to further conceal with smirk on his face.
"Its not my fault you are bored. " John finally sat down with a sigh.
"Nor is it my fault the populous of London is being inconveniently well behaved. "
"Nothing from Lestrade? "
"Nothing of any use. "
"What about Molly? "
Sherlock dropped half his paper at that one, but recovered quickly enough.
"What about Molly? "
John stared at Sherlock for several moments.
"Its been two years, John. "
"And still, the poor girl is worse than ever. "
"Hardly my fault. "
"You led her on! She won't give up hope as long as... "
"Again, two years. "
"You SLEPT with her. "
"Once. And I WAS rather a unique situation. Im sure she is intelligent to realize it wasn't intentional. She is a doctor. She is well aware of the effects of adrenaline and..."
"God, I REALLY hope you didn't put it to her that way. "
"Of course not. I didnt put it to her in any way. She understands, believe me. "
"I doubt it. The experience... it really didn't effect you at all? "
"John, my sex life... "
"Or lack thereof... "
"...is none of your concern. I had a one night stand under far from normal circumstances. End of story. Molly has come through it and gotten over it. You should as well. Now, if you don't mind... "
"You are wrong. Miss Hooper is far from over anything. "
John fell off his chair at the sudden and unexpected voice appearing out of nowhere in the flat. He looks up from his place on the floor to see a tall man in a khaki over coat.
"Where the hell did you come from ? "
"I need to speak with you. It is a matter of great importance. "
"About Molly Hooper? " John asked, dumbfounded.
"No. Of course not. "
John looked from the man to Sherlock, who had risen from his chair at the table to grab his violin and sit in his chair by the fire.
"Mycroft sent you? " Sherlock asked, completely at ease and running his long fingers over his bow.
"No. "
"Wait a bloody minute... who...are... you? " John asks, getting up and walking a wide arc around the man.
"My name is Castiel. "
"Are you a client? " John asks
"Clients usually ring before barging in. " Sherlock remarked, his tone not even mildly curious.
"Im sorry for the manner of my sudden appearance. I didn't mean to frighten you, Dr. Watson. "
"I wasn't...why are you here, then? "
Castiel took a deep breath.
"As I said, I am here on a matter of great importance. It may be difficult for you to understand at first. "
"Unlikely" Sherlock breathed.
Castiel stood staring at Sherlock for several minutes.
"I think perhaps we made a mistake. Im not certain you are as good as they say you are. "
THAT got Sherlock, but only for a moment. His shoulders stiffened for a second, but then shrugged. he gave Castiel the once over.
When he was done, Sherlock's brows furrowed and lips tightened. He could deduce little about the strange man.
"You are American. "
"No. My vessel is. "
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"A police officer. With a Columbo fettish. "
"No."
"Sherlock, please. " John interrupted, knowing this could lead to no good.
"Lets just get to the point. " John suggested.
"... like why you think I am not what I say I am. " Sherlock interjected, ignoring John's eye roll.
"You are supposed to be good at deducing. But what have you one me? But that isn't your fault, I am not like what you are used to. But someone you spent a great deal of time with, like Miss Hooper and you didn't deduce the fact that she ..."
"You know nothing of Miss Hooper. " Sherlocks voice turned deadly. A fact that was not lost on John.
"I will get to the point of why I am here. There is a lot of explain, but I will give you a summation first. IN short, we need your help to find someone...out of the ordinary. "
"And who is we? " SHerlock asked
"Me and two friends of mine. They are in America at the moment. We are looking for a man who may have ...dealings...with someone you are familiar with. A James Moriarty. "
"Moriarty! " John said in shock. " He's dead. "
"Possibly. In a manner of speaking. " Castiel answered.
"I saw him shoot himself myself. " Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"That is...if he was still human at that point. That is still left undetermined. "
"Sorry? " John looked confused.
"We are looking for someone named Crowley. We believe he may have had dealings with your Moriarty. Possibly for longer than any of you know. "
"Criminals? " John asked.
"Of the worst kind. I have come to believe that like Crowley, Moriarty...was a demon. "
John had just taken a sip of his tea when that was said, and would up spraying it out in front of him.
"A WHAT? "
"Demon. "
"Nonesense. " Sherlock said, switching his crossed legs over.
"I know it is difficult for people to believe. "
"Impossible, more like. " John sighed.
"I have come to believe that the man James Moriarty, died long ago. His body is now a vessel. That explains why even with a shot in his head, he miraculously walked off that rooftop. "
"His MEN got him off the roof. " Sherlock corrected.
"Men no one saw come or go? "
"So," John saw the look on Sherlock's face and decided to intervene. " These friends of yours... "
"... Need to find Crowley, and Moriarty's location could help with that. "
"Why would they be looking for a ...demon? " Sherlock sneered the last word.
"Its thier job. They are hunters. Many monsters exist in this world, Mr. Holmes. The Winchesters whole life revolves around ridding us of as many as possible. "
"And you are one of these hunters, too? " John asked.
"No. "
"Then... "
"Im an angel. "
At that, Sherlock gave a full laugh. " Angels do not, in fact, exist. "
"Then how can you be on our side, Mr. Holmes? "
Sherlock lost his smile.
"You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels."
"I may be on the side of the angels, but do not think for one second that I am one of them. "
Sherlock was alone with Moriarty when those words were spoken. Something deep in his stomach started to turn.
"Sorry...what? " John was utterly confused.
Suddenly thunder sounded, lights flickered and two huge pair of black wings emerged from behind Castiel.
John found the floor again, shuffling behind the chair.
Sherlock sat perfectly composed during the display, his fingers steepling under his chin.
"Alright. " He said softly, raising one brow cockily. " You have my attention... "