A/N: Alright so...not completely sure where this is headed yet, so have a prologue and we shall see what progresses from here together!
Please excuse any OOC-ness, it's hard to be in the heads of so many characters at once when you didn't create them.
There may be some proper smut later! If I decide to do that the rating will go up.
A Study In Splatter
John Watson chased after his companion as London's night began to give way to dawn, a light drizzle coming down in defiance of the approaching sun that would burn away the clouds that were its source.
Sherlock Holmes was hot on the tail of a serial killer, one who had inexplicably vanished and re-appeared as some one entirely different. He closed in, mind taking in all possible routes the man could take to try and subvert him as well as the speed at which John would be able to change course behind him. The man across the street with the shopping cart was blocking one route which left either straight or the alley.
Sure enough the man ducked into the alley seconds before Sherlock rounded the corner and...fell. John was there a split second later "What in the name of god, is that?"
Sherlock was sitting, and also somewhat coated, in a gooey mess of what appeared to be chunks of a pale peach color and something akin to mucus. John bent beside him, poking at it lightly, "Sherlock, this is flesh...this is a bloody pile of some sodding git's skin."
The younger man nodded, "Yes, I was afraid this would happen now it'll be more difficult to catch him but I should be able to do it...yes." Sherlock stood and shook the ick of his hands, ready to resume giving chase to the man who had no doubt used his fall to gain time down the street at the opposite mouth of the alley.
He hesitated however, seeing John's horrified confusion. "Oh for the...John think we've seen this before, the Idleson case?"
John for his part did his best but he didn't remember a pile of slimy bits and pieces laying about on that case, "I'm sorry but I seem to remember the killer having skin on him in that one."
Sherlock let out a long-suffering sigh, "Amazing how much of an idiot even you can be. Think John, why couldn't you put that one on your blog? Because we were asked not too? Of course not that's never stopped you before."
The dark-haired man leaned forward, waiting for his partner to remember. "The...uh..Shape-shifter? That's, hold on, that's what it looks like when it's done with one appearance?" The doctor asked, gesturing disgustedly toward the pile.
Sherlock nodded, "Correct, you have earned one kiss." He leaned toward John who promptly backed up, "Save it for after you shower, there's some of the, left-overs, on your lips."
Sherlock's soured expression didn't leave until they had made their way back to the flat and he complained about John insisting they give up the chase ("Sherlock it doesn't even look the same and we've been here long enough for it to have gotten a taxi or run through a convulted route that even if you did follow would probably just have another pile of gross at the end!") the entire way.
Once back at the flat Sherlock immediately went to the photographs from the case, or at least he tried to, John was not having it and shoved him instead in the direction of a shower.
"John this is ridiculous I need to work!"
"Sherlock Holmes if you want into my bed ever again you will wash that potential harmful vileness of your person immediately."
"Fine. You didn't need to use the command voice by the way, I was not intending to get into an actual argument and defense mechanisms re-"
"SHOWER!"
The bathroom door clicked shut and John put on the kettle, looking down at the photo's himself, brow furrowed, after all you didn't live with a man like Sherlock without a tiny bit of him rubbing off.
Fifteen minutes later Sherlock was seated at the table with a cup of tea beside him, John's hands resting gently on his shoulders.
"There's one thing though that I don't understand." John said, lips slightly pursed.
"Only one?" Sherlock said, eyebrow raised.
John flicked him, "Yes, we were chasing a shifter down the street but these killings...Sherlock shifters just don't do this. That hunter bloke we met said that they kill in ways that humans do, these look more animalistic than that."
Sherlock nodded, "Well yes of course, I never said the shifter was the killer, but he was a lead. No matter whatever it is, it's still supernatural. I'll have Mycroft's people collect that flesh splatter in the alley and bring it to Bart's. Molly will no doubt be helpful in examining it, just as long as Irene doesn't come for a visit again to try and steal state secrets."
John shifted slightly, "Sherlock...what else is out there?" he gestured with one hand vaguely before returning it to his partners shoulder.
Sherlock sighed, "John I don't know the extent, I am not a expert and the hunter we met barely seemed to know what he was doing outside of a few basic monsters like the shifters."
Both men were silent for a few moments, John trying to make his perception of reality accomodate the number of nightmares that were real and Sherlock walking through his mind-palace for information that might be useful.
"John, my phone please."
Used to the request after so many years with the detective John reached to the corner of the table where Sherlock had set it upon exiting the shower. He tried to hand it to his love but Sherlock just gave him a mildly pleading look.
"Calling Mycroft then." John stated. Sherlock nodded, "Yes, as the British government embodied he is aware that there is more to fairy-tales than questionable and useless attempts at frightening children. I believe he knows a couple of Americans who will be able to lend some much needed insight on this case and after I talk to them I will likely never need a hunters help to solve supernatural crimes again."
"Sherlock fairy-tales are there to help develop morals!" John said exhaustedly, he wasn't questioning Sherlock's, because underneath it all John Watson was more than aware that Sherlock had a pure heart.
He dialed Mycroft and briefly explained the case and why they were calling, Sherlock sitting like a surly child the whole time.
John set the phone down, "He's making arrangements now." He leaned over the darker man, "Now put work away, you owe me a kiss" Sherlock allowed himself to open up more and grinned, moving his chair so he could pull the smaller man into his lap and kiss him.
"Captain Watson I do believe I owe you a lot more than just a meager kiss"
