"Hello, John," Sherlock had greeted his flat mate and friend while Castiel - a man that had wanted to speak with Sherlock - had a knife at his throat. "Just doing the job."

John narrowed his eyes and sat the bags full of groceries down, staring at Castiel. He seemed like an odd looking fellow, a dirty trench coat. Then again, Sherlock's wasn't all that clean. John Watson stepped closer, now watching the blade that was against his best friend's neck, and was in the hands of this stranger.

"Are you the colleague?" Castiel had asked John, relaxing his arms a bit, but not loosening the grip on the knife. By the way Sherlock talked to this man, it seemed like they were close.

A little confused, John replied, "Yes, I'm Sherlock's colleague. Now, would you care to explain why you are threatening him?" As he finished up, he pointed to the knife, an angry expression on his face. With this job, it was either Sherlock, John, or a friend of theirs that got hurt.

Castiel, now not sensing great danger, pulled the knife back, but kept it in his hand. He sighed, glancing between the two men that were waiting in front of him.

"My name is Castiel. We, being Dean and Sam Winchester and I, learned that you are the best detective in all of England." He then glanced at John, who was even more confused of why he was here. "You are the great detective's colleague.

"Dean and Sam are hunters, not of animals, but of creatures. Demons. They came over here because they need your help, and if you could just follow me to the hotel they're staying at-"

John interrupted, "Excuse me… demons?" He looked like he was about to laugh. "Of course we aren't going, those are just-" Sherlock grabbed John's arm, and gave him a look. It was one that told him a word he very well knew: shut up.

"We will go. Stay down here while John and I get our things together." As the tall, lean man spoke, John Watson looked outraged, and shook his head at Sherlock. Though, like usual, he ignored him and instead added, "Also, what sort of demon are we dealing with?"

Castiel hesitated, staring at him seriously. "We honestly don't know. But it's a dangerous one, and we need all the help we can get. It is worse than Lucifer himself."

Nodding, Sherlock turned to John and motioned upstairs. John followed his friend up to the living area, and once they closed the door, John exclaimed at his flat mate.

"What the bloody hell, Sherlock? We're going to meet with three psychos that believe in demons! Do you even know this.. Cas… Cassy?" His face had turn a bit red, since he had to come home to this while Sherlock had promised there would be no cases to work.

"No, I don't. And I don't believe in demons either, I know you were thinking that." Sherlock had a small bag as he put some things in it for if they had to stay over night. "These are some of the interesting cases, John, can't you see? They're not everyday sorts, and they're obviously aren't any demons. It's either someone is messing with them, they're insane, or they're wanting attention from us."

Deciding not to argue with Mr. Holmes, as he usually won the quarrel and he had guessed he was correct, like always, John packed a bag.

Castiel was still standing downstairs, a bit surprised of Sherlock. He had thought it would take a bit more explaining or threatening. The angel was glad it went well, though, so he didn't complain. He saw them coming down stairs, separate small bags being carried.

"I see you are ready," he observed, the same expressionless face from when they left him alone downstairs. "We should get going, they have been waiting for awhile now."