Sorry about it only saying Supernatural and Sherlock fandoms but I didn't know how to make it have Doctor Who as well. So this is a Superwholock story. If anyone can tell me how to include Doctor Who that would be great! Also, sorry if you don't really like OC's but it would be weird without one.
You own a small coffee shop in the middle of nowhere. A surprisingly interesting group of people come to your shop.(I choose to write during the better times of the fandoms so this is pre Reichenbach and purgatory. Also this is the tenth doctor and Rose.)
I am wiping down the counter of my tiny coffee shop when the bell above the door chimes. I looked up to see a sandy-haired man wearing a tan jumper and jeans entering.
"Good morning." I said in a cheerful voice.
"Hello. I will get two coffees, one black and one with cream and sugar." The man states very politely. I was in the middle of filling the order when a man with impeccable cheekbones, curly black hair and super nova colored eyes waltzes in.
"John." The man speaks, his voice sounding like a jaguar that just ate a cello, "We have to get back to the station to make our reports to Lestrade. Also, I don't trust Anderson with the evidence." The sandy-haired man, John, turned to me.
"Sorry about him." He says. "Sherlock isn't the waiting type."
"No problem." I said, at least I have a customer. I handed John the coffees and he pays, while Sherlock paces the floor. As they are leaving I heard Sherlock say, "John, I believe that's her." The other man turns towards me before exiting the shop.
The next day I was about to close up when I heard the jingling of the bell. John walks in with a sulking Sherlock trailing beside him. They stop at the counter and order the same thing as yesterday. But instead of leaving, they sit down at one of the few booths. Sherlock pulls out what look like case papers and spreads them over the table. Both men pour over the files, John reading mostly everything out loud, so I understood what they were talking about. Apparently there was a mysterious murder a couple of blocks away. A man was found dead in his flat. There was no sign of forced entry, or any sign that anyone but the man had been in there at all. I kept hearing the name "Moriarty" during the conversation, but I didn't know who that was so I pushed it to the back of my brain. Suddenly Sherlock was standing right by my side, peering into my face with a calculating expression.
"Umm, hello." I said, unsure of what to do. Sherlock just kept staring at me, his eyes boring into my skull.
"Holly Walsh. You are the owner of this coffee shop. You live up in the flat upstairs with a small dog and a turtle named… Simon I believe. You are currently in college studying to become a veterinarian, I do believe you will succeed, surprisingly well for someone without a mind like mine. Your brother is a drug addict in rehab and the money you make from your shop goes directly to that, after the bills of course. You speak limited French and have relatives in Italy that you visit often, you use the recipes in your pastries, along with some French recipes you picked up. You are currently single and your friends are going to take you out to meet someone as a surprise, but now it's not much of a surprise anymore is it. But you don't want to meet anyone else because the one person you ever loved is dead. Tragic. He was in the army, in the same squadron as you John. He lied about his age so he could fulfill his father's legacy. He was MIA a year before John came back, so about three years ago, so most people assume that he is dead, but you still believe that he is alive." Sherlock paused, waiting expectantly for my reply. I just looked at him, and then started to speak.
"You're name is Sherlock Holmes and your friend is John Watson. You have an older brother named Mycroft who says he is only a small part of the British government but he is actually almost the entire thing. You are the world's only consulting detective and John here is your blogger. You live at 221 Baker Street, the address is on the piece of paper sticking out of John's pocket. Also you have a landlady that you treat as your maid most of the time. Really, you should know to treat elderly women better. You were also wrong on one part of my life. My brother and sister, twins by the way, are in rehab. My brother for drugs and my sister for almost committing suicide, twice." Both men looked at me with unveiled shock and awe. Then Sherlock turned to John.
"Can we keep her John?" I laughed at that, and both men turned to me in confusement. I just smiled. Sherlock ushered me over to the table where the folders were and asked me what I though of them. I glanced at them for a second, rearranged some of them, then I turned to them.
"I need to see the crime scene." I said. Sherlock's face filled with glee as he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the shop, only waiting long enough for me to lock the door.
During the taxi ride Sherlock kept asking me questions.
"Do you know about the solar system?" He asked. I laughed.
"Yes, I haven't forgotten it or anything. The earth travels around the sun. Has been useful before." I said. Sherlock gave me a look of astonishment.
"Do you have a mind palace?"
"No, I have short-term memory loss. I forget things a lot. I forgot the numbers of pi past 3.14. Not really useful." The rest of the ride was ridden in silence. Once we finally got to the crime scene Sherlock bolted out of the car and threw a wad of bills at the cabbie. We stepped into the flat and were immediately stopped by a man with silver-ish hair. He looked quizzically before turning to Sherlock.
"Who's she?" He asked, nodding in my direction.
"Holly Walsh, nice to meet you detective inspector." I said with a smile. The man looked at Sherlock as if to say "another one?"
"She's like me Lestrade, really what use would two bloggers be to me? She can deduce and I'm stressed with this case as it is, don't add your idiocy to it." He said icily. Lestrade turned and steered us to where the body once was. I immediately saw something out of the corner of my eye. I sauntered over to a small crack in the wall. After fishing tweezers from my bag I pulled something from the crack. When I peered at it I saw that it was a small bag with ancient symbols on them. Sherlock saw what I had found and his face was one of jealousy.
"Jealous?" I teased. This only made him more unpleasant. He stalked out of the room, John told me that they'd wait outside for me before leaving. I gave the bag to Lestrade.
"So you're like Sherlock." He says warily. I nod.
"At least I know how to function in society though." I said with a small smile. Lestrade smiles also.
"Just be careful with Sherlock, god knows why John's still here but I'm sure you'll leave after a while, maybe when you're older I could get you a job at the station."
"Thank you, but I would rather work alone."
Lestrade chuckled, "Just like Sherlock." He said.
We drove back to the shop in silence, Sherlock still brooding over the evidence he had missed. When we got to the shop I said goodbye and stepped out of the cab.