A/N: For lazysparrow on Tumblr, who gave the prompt "Apocalypse. Superwholock. Dean's at fault.". I don't know how I ended up with SuperWhoLock in the prompts, but I think I'll live. :D
"It seems that a pair of Americans have been meddling with UNIT. See if you can find out a bit more, won't you, Sherlock?" Mycroft smiled deprecatingly and leaned back in his chair. John groaned. There went his night in, aliens were too interesting for Sherlock to pass up, and he liked to bring John on these investigations.
Next day, Sherlock flashed his Mycroft-issued limited-addition ID at the doors of Canary Wharf, and they were in- along with a pair of young men, dressed in expensive black suits. Strange enough, that. Stranger still when they had American accents.
Sherlock somehow got them all in the same elevator, heading up, then turned towards the one with shorter hair and said conversationally,
"How'd you get a gun onto a plane?"
The man froze, then turned slowly. "Do I know you?" The taller man grabbed his arm.
"Dean, behave," he hissed in his ear. Dean shook him off, just as the elevator dinged and they stepped out. Sherlock leaned in to murmur in the young men's ears-
"I'm with the government. Come with me." And he swirled away with a swish of his coat. The young men looked at John, who shrugged and waved them ahead of him.
Sherlock led them all into a room with a DO NOT ENTER sign and shut the door behind him. "So. Sam and Dean Winchester, I presume?" he said, turning to face them. The taller man stiffened; the other man leaned his arm casually against the desk-
And suddenly bars dropped over the windows and red lights began to flash. "Dean!" Sam shouted at his brother, who pulled away from the console to reveal a large red button. Outside the sky darkened and people in the hall began to scream.
John sighed. He supposed this meant no early night tonight.
