We finally get to see some of what John and Sherlock are up to in this chapter. I hope I didn't write the end too confusing I tried to get a certain affect but I could have just made it unreadable. I hope you enjoy!

John sighed. There were crime scene photos plastered all over the wall, which wasn't unusual, but this was different. This wasn't their usual type of 'case'. And frankly it made him nervous. From what he learned about all of these different creatures, John figured the way the spirit tried to kill them back in Montana, by suffocating them, was merciful. Thinking about the spirit made him think about the Winchesters. He wanted to be angry at them for introducing him and Sherlock to all of this, but he knew it's not all their fault. The only comfort he had was when he and Sherlock walk down the street and the detective would start deducing who in the crowd were hunters. Some days he would point them out left and right. But John was still a lot more careful walking around after dark now. At least it gave Sherlock a new way to deal with his boredom. More research to do, more experiments to try, more weapons that must be collected. Sherlock was fascinated by every aspect of this. Which scared John more than anything.

"OH, FUCK!"

Sam woke up to Dean swearing again. Albeit it's better than other times he's woken up to Dean yelling that. He looked over a look over intense fear and relief on his brother's face. Sam could feel that they were landing. As the jet came to a stop Mycroft and the two men from earlier came out from the cabin. Mycroft say across from them again, while the men stood. Dean just tried not to piss himself.

"What do you plan on doing once you meet with my brother?" Mycroft asked, eyeing Dean, feeling as if the man might get sick.

"We have to talk to him," Sam said in a very serious tone.

"What will you do when that doesn't work," Mycroft knew that won't work.

Sam leaned in, "We'll do everything we can to get him out of this."

"And if you can't," Mycroft's voice sounded dark.

Sam paused for a moment, because he had no idea what they'd do, " , we will find a way to keep him safe."

"But we're gonna need a few things," Dean joined in, Mycroft raised an eyebrow so he continued, "First off we'll need our guns back."

"Done."

"Our knives."

"Done."

"And salt."

"Salt?" Mycroft seemed skeptical. He knew that they were superstitious, but salt.

Dean shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly, "Trust me, we need it."

"Alright, done," Mycroft sat up taller.

Sam's face softened, as he spoke in a reassuring voice, "Mycroft, Sherlock will be okay."

"Yeah, man. You have some faith in your little brother," Dean added and smiled.

Mycroft returned with a strange look. He didn't want to show that they had puzzled him, partly from the warm sentiment they offered and because they had referred to him by his first name and 'man'.

"Alright, now," Dean clapped his hands on his knees and sat up straighter, feeling much better now that the plane was stationary, "where do we start?"

With a nod from their boss, Mycroft's men handed Sam and Dean back all of their belongings, including their wallets and cellphones, "We have given you enough money to get by, programed my number into your mobiles, along with providing you with many different false identifications from various organizations. If you require anything else you may call me."

"Yes, sir," Dean gave a sarcastic salute while Sam just nodded.

"We have a car that will bring you to my brother's flat," Mycroft added as the Winchesters rose from their seats. "And also, if anything happens to my brother, it will be on your heads."

Well even more motivation to keep Sherlock safe, Sam thought.

"Now," Mycroft stood up, "time to show you two to 221b Baker street."

*time skip*

Sam watched the street lights flicker on and become blurs as the city came to life in the darkness. The sun dropped below the skyline, Mycroft's driver guided the brothers through London. The lights, the people, the scenery all flew by them. Dean turned to his brother.

"Do you think they're on a case now?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know, man, but probably yeah."

"I've got it!" Was the first thing John heard as he walked into the flat. He scrunched his eyebrows at his friend, who replied, "The case, John."

Dean rubbed his eyes. The lack of sleep was finally getting to him. "If they are, it's gonna make things harder."

Sam nodded, "Hopefully they know what they're dealing with."

"You've got what?" John hung his coat up.

"I know what we're dealing with."

"But even if they do figure it out," Sam looked down, "there's no way to prove that they'll be able to handle it."

"Sherlock, don't you think this is a little out of our league?"

Don't be silly, John-"

"They'll be screwed if it's-"

"We can handle a few-"

"Demons"