They were alone at the cemetery. John was gnawing on his lip, ready to hit something. He was clenching his fists hard to keep from swinging at anyone there, just as a release.
"We don't know that he's telling the truth," Dean finally said.
"He was," Sherlock said quietly.
"Who's Moriarty?" Sam asked. John flinched at the name and, he knew Sam noticed it too, but he couldn't help it. He hated that snake. There would be nothing more satisfying than to put a bullet into his skull. Or ten.
"A man that I sincerely hope you never meet," Sherlock said.
"A man. That term being used loosely, I suppose," John muttered.
"He's the one that told you to jump off the building," Dean said. John was surprised he guessed it. "But why would he want you alive?"
"The game," Sherlock said, nearly smiling.
"This isn't a game with him, Sherlock, he's trying to ruin you."
"It's always a game, John," Sherlock retorted. "He wants to show that he's better, that even when I think I'm in control, like with the contract, he is the true puppet master."
"You can't do this again, Sherlock," John snapped. "He's going to kill you this time, really kill you."
"No, he won't. Because I'm better than him."
"Doesn't seem that way," John said. Sherlock glared a little.
"Everyone makes a mistake," Sherlock said. "I have to wait for him to make his."
"Maybe that's why he doesn't," John said. "He's had the King of Hell on his side for who knows how long. Maybe Crowley is the force that helps him win."
"Yes," Sherlock agreed. "It's part of it."
"I don't understand," Dean finally said. "I still don't get why he would keep you alive if he made you jump off a damn building."
"Weren't you listening?" Sherlock snapped. "The game! The fight between two intellects."
"But why play the game at all?" Sam inquired. "If he wanted to beat you, then… well, he kind of did when you jumped off the building."
"Because," Sherlock said, "He's bored."
"Bored," Dean said. "He'd kill people because he's bored. He sounds like you."
"You shut your mouth!" John hissed. Dean put his hands up, seeming confused.
"It was a joke," Dean said.
"No it wasn't," Sherlock replied. "He is like me. I know that."
"No he isn't," John said. "He's nothing like you. He's a monster and—"
"And I'm not? A few people would disagree with you on that one."
"Sherlock," John said, "I see the similarities. I knew they're there. But what makes you two similar isn't really what matters. Because you aren't him."
"Because of my heart?" Sherlock said distastefully. John almost smiled at Sherlock admitting he had one out loud.
"Yes, actually," John said.
Sherlock stood there quietly for a moment, and then said, "Let's get back to the flat, shall we?"
Once they were back inside and Castiel had vanished again, they all sat down and just looked at each other.
"These two working together," Sam finally said, "It means that this isn't over, is it?"
Sherlock smiled darkly. "It will never be over, not until he's dead."
"Who, Crowley or Moriarty?" Dean asked.
"Take your pick," Sherlock replied.
"So what do we do?" Sam asked.
"There's nothing for you to do."
"You're still too proud to accept our help?"
"No. There's just nothing to do right now. I, regrettably, have no idea what he's up to. Haven't heard about him in a decade. Until I hear whispers, we're stuck waiting."
John was listening, but was still clenching and unclenching his fists just for something to do. Sherlock's life was only just fixed, and now he was here to ruin it again. Like Crowley had said, it was like evil art.
"And once you hear those whispers…" Sam prompted.
Sherlock sighed. "I'll call if I think I need to."
"This is going to become quite the chore, isn't it?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, probably," Sam said, "but that doesn't matter. If there's supernatural stuff happening that's harming people, and we can stop it, that's our job."
Dean nodded. "I know. It does make you wonder how many people Crowley has helped Moriarty kill."
"I think that number would make us all nauseous," Sherlock said. Then he looked over to John. "You alright?" he asked quietly, as if maybe the Winchesters wouldn't notice the sentiment if he whispered.
"Course," John muttered. "Why wouldn't I be?" Really, John was being obvious by responding this way, but part of him wanted to be. John felt like his life was crumbling all over again. He couldn't lose everything a second time. He didn't think he could take it. In the end, Sherlock's almost death had ruined John far worse than it had ruined Sherlock. It made him wonder who he was truly after.
"It'll be okay," Sam said. "You'll beat him."
"How do you know that?"
At that Dean grinned. "Because you have us this time."
John couldn't explain why, but this did make him feel better.
"Just call when you know anything," Sam said. Sherlock nodded. "Are you actually going to call or are you just saying that?"
Sherlock smiled a little. "I'll call," he said. John nodded.
"And if he doesn't, I'll lock myself upstairs again and call while he destroys the flat with our lamp."
"A lamp?" Dean asked. "You used a lamp, of all things?"
There was light banter like that for a long time, and John found himself absently smiling at it. This time, maybe they could beat him. With the Winchesters on their side, suddenly so much more seemed possible. They dealt with the impossible every day, after all. Supposedly they stopped the Apocalypse. They could handle this impossible task as long as they worked together, John realised. He was sure of it.
Thanks for reading! This is absolutely the last installment, I promise this time. I am just way too busy to write more Superlock, it takes too much time and thought. But if you have any requests for one shot stories related to Sherlock or Supernatural, I'd love to take them.
Again, thank you so much for reading. For your devotion, I will give you a cookie/biscuit (depending on where you're from).
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