Thanks to magicstrikes, TheFloatingRose, Ssmill, I Wouldn't Be One Of Them, Orchisse, elfigreen14, lostmypen120, Silvermoon of Forestclan, , Mia, SecretAgent99, aye2skeye, hotflower901, Sharpietattoo, ihavethebestmaniacallaugh and troubleswithtribbles for their reviews!

As always, much love to Lex and Pablo for the beta work!

CHAPTER FOUR

"Hellhounds," Sherlock said questioningly.

Dean nodded as he slipped his gun into his jacket. "Hellhounds. Hounds of hell."

Sherlock was a man of logic. Up until yesterday, logic dictated that the world of the supernatural did not exist. However, the appearance of an angel had made him doubt that. He was trying to come up with reasons that could have happened. But he was actually coming up at a loss. He had to accept that at the very least, psychic men who could appear and disappear at will existed.

He'd spent the night on Molly's computer. The contents of her hard drive hadn't ever been of particular interest to him since given her personality, he had reasoned that it was most likely filled to the brim with photos of sickeningly sweet kittens with ridiculous captions on them. Having opened up the hard drive had settled the satisfaction of knowing he had at least been partially right as he browsed through one feline photo after another, further confirming that Molly was still an orderly person that loved cataloging things. Which had made finding the protected file with all her information on demons, monsters and all things supernatural both insightful and deeply disturbing to his calm.

Despite what he'd gleaned from her hard drive, he was still doubting this was not some elaborate fantasy.

"Have you three been anywhere near Liberty, Indiana lately?"

Sam sat up. "I know it's hard to believe, Sherlock, but this is nothing like the fear gas you and John Watson encountered."

Sherlock's brow furrowed as he looked to the tall man still in bed. "You've read John's blog?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Wanted to know about you and Molly."

For a moment, Sherlock felt a thrill of panic at the idea of Sam and Dean knowing all about him. He was, after all, supposed to be dead.

Then again, these men had an arsenal of illegal weaponry. A cursory look around their motel room revealed fake IDs for law enforcement all over the country. They were hardly in a comfortable position to turn him into the authorities.

The situation was dangerous, both physically and legally. It would do no good in his mission to track down Moriarty's inner circle.

He was allowing this indulgence into the patently ridiculous if only to see the other side of Molly Hooper. While wisps of his reserved pathologist were definitely present, she had a confidence he had never seen before. He watched her packing salt rounds into a shotgun. She handled the weapon with expertise he'd never imagined Molly to possess.

"Tell me about Hellhounds," Sherlock demanded, glaring at Dean. "Specifically, Cerberus."

Molly gave him a reproachful look, silently chastising him for his sharp tone. In his head, he could hear John: A bit not good.

"I would say it nicer," Molly said to Sherlock. She then turned to Dean. "But I'd like to know. I mean, I know a bit about Hellhounds... But I'm going to bet you two know more."

Dean gave a nod. "All right then. Hellhounds are vicious, nearly indestructible and love to drag people down to hell."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the irritating man. "While I understand your own personal experience with them was traumatic, I would appreciate something a little more substantial than that." He looked to Sam. He seemed the far more intelligent of the brothers.

"Cerberus isn't any different than any other Hellhound, really," Sam supplied. "He's just the oldest. The original. Bigger, meaner, stronger than the garden variety. And he commands the others."

Molly frowned. "And it's not like the others were that easy to begin with."

Sam nodded. "Exactly. Anyway, Hellhounds are a species of demon. All demons are human souls that were condemned to hell. Hellhounds have been down in the pit for so long, they turn feral. Not powerful enough to rise in the demon ranks, but they become mean and bloodthirsty. They can manifest without a meat suit, meaning they're invisible to humans."

Sherlock cocked his head. "Meat suit?"

Molly shuddered visibly. She was clearly uncomfortable with the current conversation. "Regular demons can't manifest on Earth in human form. They just appear as black smoke. But they can take over a human vessel. Infect them. The body then becomes the demon's- even their blood is changed." At those words, Sam now shuddered. Sam Winchester had a history involving demon blood. Judging from his haunted expression, Sherlock would have guessed he had been infected with it. Or else... Enjoyed it? Was addicted to it? It seemed ridiculous, but that seemed to be the word of the moment.

Molly bit her lip, continuing on. "The human soul is still in there, but they can't do anything to stop the demon."

Dean nodded. "Doc's got it right. But with Hellhounds, it's different. They're strong enough to get physical here. We just can't see them. Not unless you're about to be dragged down."

Sherlock narrowed his gaze on Dean. "So tell me... What do they look like when you're about to be dragged down?"

Dean's expression was cold. "You don't want to know."

"I will accept that some sort of remarkably strong, invisible feral dog exists," Sherlock said, although he had difficulty hiding his reluctance. "But their origin? The soul? Don't be absurd."

Both Sam and Dean glared at Sherlock. He sighed a their expressions.

"Sherlock," Molly said gently. She stepped in front of him. "I know this is difficult for you, but you're going to have to accept that you're not the cleverest person in the room when it comes to the supernatural. Dean, Sam and I have been doing this for a long time." She held out the shotgun to him. "Here. It's loaded up with salt rounds."

"Salt rounds aren't going to do it," Sam said, rubbing his side gingerly. "Didn't even make a dent in it yesterday."

"But you got away," Molly pointed out. "Not many people can say that about Hellhounds. Especially not the Hellhound. At least it's something. Are you guys sure you don't have any idea what might take it out for good?"

Dean shook his head. "Short of the Colt, I don't know. And Lucifer's mooks got that thing. You got any bright ideas, Doc? You even gone up against Hellhounds?"

Molly nodded. "Yeah. About ten years ago."

Sam's brow lifted in interest, moving closer to Molly. "What did you use?"

Molly slumped her shoulders. "Won't do us any good. Getting hold of one of the Swords of Wayland is really very difficult." She paused before giving Sam an awkward smile. "It's a long story."

Dean rubbed his eyes with his hand. "So what are we supposed to do? The only thing we've had be really effective in killing a Hellhound is a pipe-bomb."

Sherlock arched a brow. "So why don't you use a pipe-bomb again?"

"It only worked because they were inside of a building," Dean snapped back irritably. "And we lost two friends in the process."

Sherlock cocked his head. "Well. I think the answer is simple then."

Sam narrowed his gaze on Sherlock. "What are you talking about?"

"You say the King of Hell is determined to kill you. Then he is what you need to defeat, not the Hellhounds." Sherlock went to the door and opened it, disturbing the salt line. "Maybe we should have a conversation with him."

All three of the Hunters leapt at him.

"What are you doing?" Molly cried. "Sherlock you-"

"Well now, this is interesting." There was a new voice in the room. All four turned to face the new arrival. Sherlock immediately scanned over him, but found the results to be confusing and contradictory.

Then, he had never done a scan on the King of Hell before.

"Crowley," Sam spat at the well-dressed man.

Crowley smiled up at Sam, his eyes smug and malevolent. "Moose... It's been a while. Having fun with my pups?"

Molly's arm went out in front of Sherlock, blocking him from the demon.

"Well." Crowley nodded, looking around. "I never thought I'd see a group like this. Is this... Some sort of convention I don't know about?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean snapped.

"It's just..." Crowley walked around the humans. "Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes. Not really the type of people you'd expect to associate with the Winchesters. The only thing I can think of that binds the four of you together is how you wouldn't be here without deals from down below."

"What?" Sam shook his head.

"Do try to keep up, Gigantor," Crowley sighed. "You, of course, know about your father's deal to save Dean. And then Dean's deal to save you. I guess Doctor Hooper hasn't told you that her father did the same thing for her. You Hunters really can't wait to sacrifice yourselves." He turned his attention to Molly. "You should know, under my management, your father's afterlife is a lot less bloody... Relatively speaking, of course."

Sherlock looked down at Molly briefly. While she had been fierce and determined, he saw her face cut at the mention of her father. He reached a hand out, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

"You've done nothing for me," Sherlock said firmly.

Crowley chuckled. "Haven't I?" He approached Sherlock slowly. Molly stepped back in the way, blocking his path. She pointed her shotgun at his chest.

Crowley pushed the gun aside. "Out of the way, Buffy... I'm not going to hurt your boy-toy."

"Molly," Sherlock said quietly. "It's all right."

Molly seemed to debate with herself for another moment before stepping aside. Crowley got in close to Sherlock, looking him straight in the eyes with an air of supreme arrogance and assuredness Sherlock had never seen before. "You- of all people- owe me. You wouldn't be who you are without me."

Sherlock stared down at Crowley, unwavering in his gaze. "I highly doubt it."

"1989. I made the deal myself. It was a very unique request. And he was a very unique client. Oh, he could have asked for money, infamy... But no, he wanted to get all of that on his own. And he did. Only twelve years old when he made the deal too."

Sherlock didn't need to ask the name of the client. He knew it already. "Moriarty."

"That's impossible," Molly blurted out. "Moriarty died last year. Crossroads deals only last ten years."

Crowley turned to point a finger at Molly. "It is negotiable, sweetheart. Your Dad only got one year. But Jim... Oh, he was useful. It's always good to have people top side working for us. He got an extra year for every soul he brought to us. A finder's fee. And he was very good at finding people who needed things." He sighed. "It's a shame he got so preoccupied with Sherlock. I had to put my dogs on him. He could hear the howling of my pups when he put the bullet in his brain." He smirked. "A lot like your dad, Molly. Well, they do say you girls fall in love with your Daddies."

"I never loved Jim," Molly spat back.

"Maybe not," Crowley laughed. "But you sure liked him. And you never suspected what he might be doing for me. Hunter's instinct must've dulled over the years."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Whatever Moriarty's deal with you was, it could not have anything to do with me."

"It was for you," Crowley snapped back, facing Sherlock once again. "He wanted an equal. A Yin to his Yang. Someone who would keep him from getting bored. A consulting detective to his consulting criminal."

Sherlock's body stiffened as Crowley spoke. He looked away from the demon finally.

"Do you know what the first thing he did after selling his soul was?" Crowley asked. He laughed coldly. "Of course you do. What was it, Sherlock?"

"Carl Powers," Sherlock murmured.

"Your first case," Crowley finished. "What made you decide to become a detective. I've been watching you a long time, Sherlock. Getting you into place for Jim. You did pretty well on your own, but it wasn't until I made sure that army doctor got shot that you were ripe for him."

Sherlock's hands clenched into shaking fists. "John..."

"The dominos of your life have fallen the way I wanted them to, Sherlock. All because Jim Moriarty asked for you. Your friends here-" Crowley gestured to Molly, Sam and Dean. "-Might be alive because of demons. But you wouldn't even exist without one."

Crowley chuckled. "You know, I guess I shouldn't be surprised you've hooked up with the Winchesters. You have been looking for me, haven't you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock shook his head fractionally. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right." Crowley poked Sherlock in the chest with a finger. "You know me under the name of my meat suit."

Sherlock felt like the air was punched out of him at Crowley's next words.

"Sebastian Moran." Crowley's lips parted in a smile. "So good to finally meet you."

For the first time in his life, it felt like Sherlock's brain had shut down. He couldn't focus on anything. He was utterly frozen by the pronouncement of Crowley. Dimly, he could hear the demon still talking.

"You know, it's really not fair of me to attack you now," Crowley's voice was very pleasant and he spoke to the others. "Sherlock didn't know to leave well enough alone. So I'm going to give you a pass... Not put my pups on you quite yet."

He laughed. "But... I can't let you get away free and clear. It would go against my nature to ignore this ample opportunity."

Sherlock finally moved at the sound of the door banging open. Three people- demons- strode in.

Crowley laughed. "I'll just let them play with you. Molly- Consider it a gift."

Sherlock looked to the demons, unsure what Crowley had meant by a 'gift' for Molly. Sam and Dean had raised their guns, but Molly was frozen in shock.

The demon in the lead- a woman in her later thirties- smiled broadly, black eyes gleaming. "Hi sweetie... I'm home."

Molly took in a sharp breath. "Mum?"