Hello everyone! This is a Sherlock-Supernatural Crossover my friend megtheegg99 are writing together. Hope you enjoy, and please review!
"You have sixteen missed calls from Mycroft, Sherlock. Have you listened to any of the messages?" John asked exasperatedly, holding out Sherlock's phone towards him. Sherlock was sitting on the couch, absently plucking the strings of his violin in a disjointed, aimless melody.
"No. Why would I?"
"He could have a case for you," John said, remembering how just a few hours ago Sherlock had been ranting again about how bored he was. There hadn't been any new cases the consulting detective had deemed interesting enough to take, and he had been stalking around the flat like a restless animal, alternating between silence and shouting.
"Don't care," Sherlock said, still staring into space as his long fingers strummed the violin. John sighed and brusquely put the phone down on the table, sitting down in his chair and picking up the newspaper.
It wasn't long before they heard Mrs. Hudson's voice from downstairs, then two pairs of footsteps ascending the stairs. John set down the paper and stood as Mrs. Hudson showed in an impeccably dressed, cold-faced individual clad in a suit and carrying an umbrella.
"Mycroft," John greeted resignedly, glancing over at Sherlock, who was completely ignoring his brother's presence. Mycroft nodded briefly at John before striding over to stand facing Sherlock on the couch.
"Sherlock."
"I'm thinking."
"I don't care."
"Whatever it is, no."
"Sherlock."
"What do you want?"
Mycroft eyed his brother for a moment before settling himself in the chair opposite the couch. He crossed his legs and folded his hands neatly.
"I have an assignment for you."
Sherlock snorted, his watercolor eyes briefly focusing on his brother's face before they resumed roaming around the room aimlessly.
"I don't take assignments. Especially not from you."
"Oh, I think you will."
Sherlock's gaze returned again to Mycroft, sharp and cold. He waited silently for his brother to continue. John coughed awkwardly from where he had been standing, watching the tension between the two brothers.
"Please tell us what the case is, Mycroft," John said quietly, once it became clear neither Holmes was giving ground.
"Two highly wanted criminals, brothers. Wanted for credit card fraud, grave desecration, violent assault, impersonating federal officers, theft, and several cases of brutal murder. They've been detained by law enforcement several times, but every time managed to mysteriously escape."
"Boring," Sherlock said immediately, his gaze dropping from Mycroft back to his violin. John sighed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck wearily.
"Have you ever heard of the Winchesters?" Mycroft asked quietly.
Sherlock's eyes snapped up.
"They're in America."
"All expenses paid."
"Why?"
"I owed America a favor. This is what they asked."
"I'll do it."
"Thank you," Mycroft allowed, standing up and retreating from the flat. John watched him go, confusion written all over his feature.
"Pack your bags, John!" Sherlock called suddenly. John sputtered indignantly.
"To go where, exactly? And why?"
"We're going to America to track down a pair of vicious serial killers."
"You know, there are better ways to take a vacation."
The two men quietly laughed together.