Hello! Thanks for reading! And yes, this is going to end up as a bromance.
Thanks to those of you who left reviews and such :) I really appreciate it!
"Freya, what's-his-face is here!" Merlin yelled. For some reason, Lestrade had never found a place for Freya. As such, she was living with Merlin and Sherlock permanently. She'd been enrolled in school, got a boyfriend (some guy named Jason) and was much happier. All her old bruises were gone, though a few scars remained. The only remaining issue was that Freya would occasionally have panic attacks, thinking that her parents were still there with the rolling pin. Freya was terrified of rolling pins.
"I'll be there in a second!" Freya darted out of her room in a pretty lavender dress, her hair falling in natural waves. Jason smiled, offering his arm, and the two left for prom together.
"Merlin, did I just see Freya going to prom?" Arthur asked, appearing in the doorway.
"Yes." Merlin answered. "But I'm worried. What if-"
"Merlin, stop being a mother. She's fifteen, she's got pepper spray on her, she'll be fine."
"Yes, but-"
"No buts! You are coming with me!" Arthur promptly grabbed Merlin by the hand and dragged him out of his flat, Merlin protesting the whole way.
"… What did I just see?" John poked his head inside the flat.
"Freya's going to prom." Sherlock answered.
"Okay…" John closed the door behind him and sat down in an armchair. He didn't know what to say- he never did around Sherlock. It was like whatever he said made him look stupider and stupider, and John normally wouldn't care, but with Sherlock it seemed to matter. Maybe it was because Sherlock was a genius. Maybe it was because Sherlock noticed everything, even tiny little things that didn't seem to matter. Like that John forgot to wash his favourite sweater, or that he kept checking his phone, half-expecting someone to have actually texted him.
"Phone." Sherlock held out his hand.
"… What?"
"Give me your phone." John handed Sherlock the phone. The tall man typed a quick message, sent it, and set the phone down. It buzzed a moment later. Sherlock picked it up, replied, then stood up and handed John the phone.
"Come on, Lestrade needs us."
"Wh-What?"
"You heard me."
"Us?"
"Yes, us, as in both you and me, working together. You're an army doctor, so you should be helpful with the autopsy." John stood up and followed Sherlock, hoping he wasn't blushing form embarrassment.
"… Heart's gone, too, so we'll be needing the silver."
"Damn! I hate hunting overgrown dogs."
"Dean!"
"Whoops. Sorry. I keep forgetting that they're not all overgrown dogs." Two other men were in the morgue when Sherlock and John entered. They had American accents, and they were inspecting the same body that Sherlock and John had come in to see.
"Oh, hey, we've got company, Sammy." The shorter man, who had a tan and faint freckles, clear blue eyes, and was apparently named Dean, nodded at Sherlock and John. The taller one, Sammy, looked up, then back down at the body.
"What sort of overgrown dogs were you talking about?" John asked.
"Oh, we've encountered some wild dogs who attacked people and ate their hearts. Pretty nasty, but they got killed in the end. Problem solved." Dean smiled.
"You think there are more of these dogs then?"
"Most likely. Well, you see what you can make of him." Dean patted the dead body with his gloved hand, then him and Sammy left.
"Odd…" Sherlock was already looking the body over.
"What?"
"This man wasn't mutilated like any normal dog would do. Whatever did it wanted the heart specifically." Sherlock responded.
"So… not a dog, then?"
"No, these are wolf claw marks."
"Huh. Sounds a little like a werewolf. And those guys did mention silver…"
"What's silver got to do with it?" Sherlock asked.
"Silver bullets kill werewolves. They're just old myths though-"
"We need to find those two."
"So, feeling any less worried about Freya now?" Arthur asked after the movie. It was about 10 pm, and the streets were empty. The only lights were coming from flickering lights.
"Yes, but tell me why we chose to get home by the creepy back alleys?" Merlin asked, shivering.
"I hate crowded streets." Arthur answered. He paused, hearing a noise.
"D-Did you hear that?" Merlin scooted a little closer to Arthur. "That growling?"
"Yes." Arthur answered, doing a slow 360 to see if there was anyone near them. There was no one.
"Well, let's hurry. I feel like we're going to get attacked."
"Hey, I know how to fight. We'll be fine." Arthur shrugged. The pair made it a few more streets before Merlin's fears were confirmed. A man tackled Merlin to the ground, shoving Arthur aside with a growl. The blonde hit his head against a wall and fell to the ground, groaning. Merlin was panicking. The man seemed to be trying to bite him, like some crazy werewolf who hadn't transformed. But his nails were sharp, cutting through Merlin's leather jacket with ease. The only reason Merlin wasn't bitten or hurt was because of his magic, protecting him and making him untouchable.
"Dammit!" A gunshot rang out. The man cried out, jumping off Merlin in pain. The bullet must've just grazed him, not going straight through, because the man ran off, seemingly uninjured.
"Come on, come on!" Someone- an American- pulled Merlin to his feet, dragging him down alleys. Merlin had the vague idea that someone else had Arthur, carrying the half-unconscious blonde.
The American ran with Merlin all the way to a motel, then shoved him, Arthur, and some other really tall guy inside and slammed the door. Grabbing a bag of salt, the American started lining the doors and windows with it.
"Did it bite you?" The tall guy- also American- asked Merlin.
"N-No- Is Arthur okay?"
"Merlin, I hit my head on a wall. Do you think I'm okay?"
"Yes, but- Freya! Oh, no, she's probably locked out of the flat, Sherlock was planning to go down to the morgue for Lestrade, he got a new case- is there a phone?"
"Uh, yea, over there." The tall man pointed to a phone, and Merlin rushed over. He dialed Sherlock.
"Sherlock, come on…" The phone clicked to voice mail, and Merlin started talking. "Sherlock, you need to get back to the flat to let Freya in, I'm-" Merlin paused. "Where am I?" He asked.
"The London Sun Motel." The man who'd originally grabbed Merlin answered, setting his bag of salt down.
"I'm at the London Sun Motel and I think I'm going to be here a while, so get your butt back to the flat or so help me I will- I'll throw out all your eyeballs and thumbs, and I'll tell Molly not to let you in if you don't have a case from Lestrade!" Merlin hung up the phone.
"… Eyeballs and thumbs?" Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"What, haven't you seen out fridge?"
"Why the hell do you have eyeballs in your fridge?" The shorter American asked. Merlin shrugged.
"Sherlock likes to experiment. He gets them from Molly- she works at the morgue- and does tests. Usually involves a lot of exploding. So, why am I in a hotel room that's lined with salt?"
"Werewolf. Not good. Salt repels demons, werewolves, shifters… Everything, really."
"Okay then… So, I just got attacked by a werewolf, in the middle of London on a Saturday night… Who are you?"
"Dean. That's Sam." The tall man waved. "We're hunters." Merlin paled.
"You hunt… Magic people?"
"What? No, magic isn't real. We hunt demons, monsters, anything evil."
"What makes you think magic isn't real?" Arthur asked.
"Dude. It's all hoodoo. Charms, consulting demons or gods. No actual magic." Merlin snorted.
"Sure. Well, when can I leave? I'd like to get back to Freya and Sherlock. He'll probably want to-" The motel phone rang. Arthur, being closest, picked it up.
"Hello?... Oh. Merlin, it's for you."
"Merlin, it's Freya. I'm locked out of the flat."
"Sherlock isn't there?"
"John told me to call you at this number. Sherlock couldn't leave his case, and he took John with him."
"Damn… Okay, do you think you can jimmy the window? The alarm won't go off unless you smash the glass."
"No, I don't have my pocketknife on me."
"Does Jason have one?"
"Uh… Jason kind of left already. I told him to go home instead of waiting."
"Why?"
"I didn't want to make him wait until you or Sherlock got back. Where are you?"
"Got a little sidetracked. Look, just… Okay, go over to the fire escape. You there?"
"Yes."
"Put your hand on the door."
"Why?"
"Just do it, okay? Trust me."
"Okay, hand is on the door."
"Repeat after me- Aergoth Manta Slinth."
"Aergoth Manta slinth."
"Talnah Patar."
"Talnah Patar."
"Ergo Confo Dunus."
"Ergo Confo Dunus- Whoa!"
"The door opened?"
"Yes."
"Good. I'll be home in a while. Get yourself some food, and call Jason to tell him you're inside. Call John, too."
"Okay. And- Oh, ew!"
"What?"
"Head in the fridge! Oh, gross, her eyes are open- eurgh!"
"What- when did he get a head? And wouldn't the head go in the freezer?"
"No, the freezer's too crowded. Remember, I got ice cream?"
"Great. Well, stick with the pantry and the freezer, and don't look at the head. I'll tell Molly to stop letting him have the heads."
"Yea. Call you later."
"Mmkay. Bye."
"… Heads?" Dean raised an eyebrow.
"Sherlock put a head in the fridge. Normally he sticks to eyes or arms, but I guess he got a head while we were out."
"You let him keep heads in your fridge?" Sam look rather appalled.
"Not normally, no."
"Just a question, does your friend have any bones around the house?"
"Yea, he's got a skull on the fireplace. It's named Frank."
"Okay, creepy Satanist much?" Dean muttered.
"What? No! Sherlock solves mysteries. He tried to take me along once, but I got kidnapped, then almost murdered, and then the fireworks went off- well, long story short, I suck at solving mysteries."
"Oookay… What was that mumbo jumbo you were saying on the phone?"
"Nothing."
"How do we know that this werewolf didn't just run off?" Arthur asked quickly, covering for Merlin.
"That werewolf was hunting you specifically. It's been following you for a while."
"… How do you know that?"
"Because it told us."
"… I'm sorry, that just sounds like total bullshit." Arthur snorted.
"Okay, excuse me for getting cornered by the damn thing, but once you get monsters talking they don't stop!" Dean snorted back.
"Would you to shut up?" Merlin and Sam said at the same time. The motel phone rang again. Merlin picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Merlin?"
"Heya, John."
"We've got a problem." John's voice was oddly calm, alerting Merlin that hell yes something was wrong. John was never that calm, unless he was asleep.
"What?"
"There's this-this man, with claws and- I don't know, but he wont' die when we shoot him, and we're stuck in the morgue with Molly and Lestrade. Sherlock said you could help."
"Son of a bitch!"
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing- Okay. I'll be there. Is there any salt in the room?"
"Uh- Molly! Any salt in here?" Merlin heard the young woman answer, though her words were too muffled for him to distinguish them. "No. No salt."
"Okay, just stay inside, I'll be there with help soon."
"Was that John?" Arthur started to ask.
"I found your damn werewolf." Merlin cut the blonde off, picking up Dean's abandoned salt bag and shoving the door to their motel room open.
