Chapter 6: The Case Was Bait

Morning came to the boys of Baker Street, and the night that they spent together was not sexual, but still magical. Especially on Sherlock's part. He told John the many things that not even Mycroft knew. John also told secrets that not even the Demon hunting him knew. the Demon knows because she is a half sister to John, but she's always been a stranger to John. John also never accepted her into the family.

Sherlock stirred to find John passed out on top of him, "Mm. John." He would have pushed him off, but Sherlock was barely awake himself.

John finally woke, and rubbed his face into Sherlock's chest. "Sherlock," he looked to his detective. "We should probably finish that case." Sherlock nodded. John kissed his burnet lightly and went to the kitchen. But he couldn't reach the fridge without the detective stumbling after him and hugging him from behind, "Sherlock."

"John." Sherlock kissed his blogger's neck and sat down in a kitchen chair. The table was crowded with experiments. He sighed, "I know who killed the couple. Well, more of what, but still. I know."

John looked at him in disappointment. How do I not know then? "Who?" he sat down, "Or, what? " John eyed Sherlock as he tried to figure out how to say this.

He sighed and gave up. I'll have to be blunt, and look like an asshole, but oh well. "Your sister." John gave him a questioning look. How does he know she's my sister? "I know she's you sister because she didn't kill you when she had the chance. She blamed it on the injury. Which means she's being ordered by someone else." Wow. Brilliant. So he knows more about her than I do. That's nice, just fucking fantastic.

"Half." Sherlock gave him an intrigued glance, "Half sister. She has a different mother. So, half sister." Idiot. He is slow sometimes.

Sherlock nodded, "Well, then this case will go unsolved. She can't be caught for a human crime. I'll inform the police that there's nothing more that we can do. Meanwhile, you'll go to your sister, and ask if you can help her. I know you don't like it, but she is family and you have to help family. And I'm telling you, if you save her, she won't hate you. as much." What do you know about family? John glared at him. "Well, get a move on it. I'll follow you later."

Sherlock basically kicked John out of the flat and texted Lestrade about the 'unsolved' case. Sherlock hated telling lies about his abilities, but in this case (literally) he had to, to protect his John. Mine? John? Maybe…

John went to the warehouse in hopes that Harry hadn't left. And she hadn't let all right, in fact, u could say that was too tied up to leave. Sherlock had caught up with John in time to see the scene that had John choked and silent. "Harry?" John rushed to see if his sister was really what he didn't want. But she was, she was dead. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock rushed to his lover's side, "John. I am sorry, but this. I honestly can't have sympathy for her. I'm sorry." John stood and gave him a long glare. Sherlock shriveled on the inside but on the outside he came closer and looked down on his blond. He raised his eyebrows, "Want to find her killer, or we just going to stand here?" John scoffed. And down the hallway they ran. At a certain point, the floor and ceiling became dirt and it was very dark. They could see, but just barely.

They eventually reached a room with a crimson door. They barged in and found simply a chair and a man in that chair. The room was as the hallway was: small and made completely of dirt. "Hello boys." John recognized this voice, from where he wasn't sure. Sherlock, on the other hand, knew exactly who had pursued them.

Sherlock nodded, "Hello, Father. What do you want?" What could possibly have been so important that he had to kill for?

"I just wanted to meet your boyfriend. Is that too much to ask, son?" Sherlock shook his head in disgust. His father rose from the simple chair and continued, "John Hamish Watson. You look promising. Are you taking good care of my hopeless case of a son?" John nodded, not sure what to say to someone like Sherlock's father.

He looked to his son, "I'll bet you've been bugging the hell out of poor John. Haven't you?" Sherlock shrugged. His father turned to John, "Has he?" John shook his head. "Good. I guess. So how's Mycroft? I know he must hate being human. Again."

Sherlock shook his head, "I thought you never cared for the brother you said I never had? Anyway, he's been great actually. Very successful. Not that you would really care. Do you?"

"Not in the slightest," his voice suddenly became very dark and his eyes turned from a pale blue, like Sherlock's to black. So that's where his pretty eyes come from. "But I have worried about you, Sherly. I heard you've been helping the humans in some of the dumbest of ways."

Sherlock glared at his father, "Detective work is not dumb. You, are dumb. Pretentious dick." Again, you've crossed the line with your dirty mouth, Sherly. Ugh.

"You know, you really should be careful what you say to your father. Especially with that case being a trap. Enjoy yourself. If you get out, that is." He disappeared and the earth they were standing in shook as everything started to fall on the detective and his blogger.

They ran back out of the hallway and to the concrete room that Harry was still strapped to the chair in. John whimpered as they ran out of the door and back to the sidewalk, where the whole building collapsed. It was then, just a pile of concrete, wood and dirt in front of them.

"Let's go." Sherlock took his blonde's hand and they ran back to the flat. The whole five miles, they just ran. They burst through the door, breathless and wishing they didn't have to go through all that. "I'm sorry," Sherlock finally apologized.

John shook his head, "No, I'm sorry. I was the one who has the worst background story in the history of backgrounds. No, I'm sorry."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and kissed his blond blogger. "I love you, that's all that matters."

John shrugged, "Ok." And again they were kissing.