AN: So, after reading a bunch of fanfics and seeing hundreds of gifsets and fanart, I finally decided to write my very own Superwholock fic. The Doctor Who part will come on a bit later but don't worry, the Doctor will appear. I will probably end up doing some slash pairings, just fair warning.

Five Years Ago

Suddenly, Crowley wasn't where he had been and he looked down to see himself inside a devil's trap. Dammit! Whoever the hell had done this they were going to pay once he was out! He turned around to see an odd, young man in front of him.

"So nice of you to drop by," the man said in a high pitched Irish accent. He wore a crisp, clean suit and had a smile that even Crowley didn't like. "I want to make a deal."

"Sorry but we're not at a crossroad," Crowley replied.

"Don't pull that card on me now. I know you don't have to actually be at one. Besides, this deal will benefit you."

"I'm not interested—"

"WHO ASKED YOU IF YOU WERE INTERESTED?!" the man screamed and Crowley quickly decided he wasn't in his right mine. When Crowley didn't say anything, the man smiled. "That's better now. My name's James Moriarty. Hi."

"Hello," Crowley muttered sarcastically. He didn't offer his name yet, it seemed that he didn't have to give it.

"I've been waiting a while for this Crowley."

"How do you know my name?" Crowley snarled.

Moriarty laughed as he replied, "Because I'm a genius of course! Why wouldn't I? Now, are you ready to hear my deal or would you prefer it if I let my tiger have a go at you?"

Crowley had no idea what Moriarty's tiger was but he really didn't want to risk it. Instead, he simply nodded for the man to continue and explain himself.

"You see, I've been collecting a numerous amount of souls over the years. Hundreds upon hundreds actually and I'll trade them all for one thing. Make me a demon."

"Why would you want to become a demon?"

"I won't go into the mechanics of it for your daft little mind," Crowley growled at this remark, "but basically I'm going to die. It's the only way to completely win the game but I'd prefer it if I didn't really die just in case."

"How the hell do you know your fate? No one knows their—"

"Oh but I do," replied Moriarty as a wicked smile came upon his lips. "I know exactly what will happen. I'll be standing on a building, shaking hands with none other than the Sherlock Holmes. He'll think he has beaten me. He'll think he has won but that's when I'll bring out a gun and shoot myself in the head. It's perfect."

Crowley honestly didn't understand a word of what the mad man was saying, simply nodding and going along with it. "And say that I won't make this deal?"

"Crowley Crowley Crowley," muttered Moriarty in a sing song voice. "The question isn't what if you don't make the deal. The question is simply when you'll make the deal because believe me, you will make it."

Crowley thought this over and decided that his options really weren't the best right now so he instead asked, "How many souls have you collected exactly?"

"Two-thousand one-hundred and forty-seven," replied Moriarty with a gleeful laugh.

"And I suppose you don't want your soul included in that?"

"No, I'd prefer to keep it."

Crowley thought about this a bit more. It was clear that this man was not only mad but extremely knowledgeable and honestly, Crowley didn't want to see how knowledgeable he was in demon torture. "Fine," he said. "I'll do it."

"Good. Now to finally seal it."

For the first time, Crowley was the first one that was uncomfortable in the situation, not expecting the sudden lips upon lips. However, the deal was sealed and there wasn't a way to get out of it.

Present Day

Sherlock Holmes lay on his couch, not a muscle moving. The room was completely silent as his mind moved faster than anyone else's. However, his concentration was broken when the sound of wings sounded through the room.

Slowly, Sherlock opened his eyes and gave a slight smile upon seeing Castiel in front of him. "Pleasure to see you again Castiel. How are the Winchesters?"

"Both are doing well. How is Dr. Watson," replied Cas.

"Well, he still visits my grave but I think he's finally come to terms with my 'death.' But you have not come here for small talk," Sherlock said as his eyes traveled over the angel. "Something is the matter."

"Yes," replied Cas as he twitched slightly. He respected the detective greatly but it still unnerved the angel slightly at how well he could tell certain things just by glancing at a person. Dean was the only other person who could really understand Cas as well as Sherlock did. "You remember the last time you saw the Winchesters?"

"How could I forget our first meeting?" asked Sherlock with a small smile.

He remembered the meeting well. The Winchesters were the ones who had first shown Sherlock that the world was much bigger than he realized. The serial killer he was after ended up being a type of monster, a shape-shifter was what they called it.

Without the Winchesters he would've probably died seeing as he had been doing the case after Reichenbach Falls and was alone. Though he wanted to, Sherlock still couldn't reveal himself to John just yet. Sebastian Moran was still out there and if Sherlock was ever to come out of hiding Moriarty's tiger would have to die first.

"So," Sherlock then said as he came back to the present, "the Winchesters need help is that it?"

"Yes, but how—"

"You mentioned our first meeting in which they, along with your help, saved me. They figured that would mean I'd willingly help them so that the debt would be paid between us. However, what they are dealing with is something out of the normal, at least their normal, which is made obvious because you're here," continued Sherlock. "This means, that whatever we are dealing with, is something that you have not encountered either or has put of sigils which are blocking you from finding it. Am I getting warm?"

"Yes," replied Cas with a sigh. "We thought that you might be able to track it. Find clues that we've over looked."

"Hmm . . ." murmured Sherlock.

"Will you help us?"

Sherlock remained silent for a bit longer. Finally he said, "I will come and look into it. I'll help you if it seems interesting enough. Besides, I've never been to America and maybe that tiger will follow me and leave John alone."

"There is a tiger following you?" Castiel asked with frown. "I do not understand."

"Simply a figure of speech my dear Castiel. Now, shall we be on our way?"

John woke up drenched in cold sweat. God, he hadn't had that dream forever until now. Sherlock was jumping of that building all over again and of course John could do anything. Hadn't been able to do anything in real and he couldn't do anything in the dream world either.

Slowly, he got up, slightly unsteady and shaking. The dream was so much more vivid than usual. It was more like John was living it all over again.

He didn't know why it had suddenly come back but a sudden sense of dread washed over him. But that didn't make any sense. Despite all his wishing, Sherlock was dead and there was truly nothing John could do about it. He had imagined the detective just waltzing in one day and acting like nothing had happened but that dream stayed just that, a dream.

Maybe going to America with his sister was a good idea. She had been the one to propose the idea of going on a vacation. Why she had picked America he would never know but after a lot of arguing he had finally agreed to go with her.

Who knows, maybe it would be fun.