John

John stood nervously. The group that he had joined were all in the process of being called. It seemed he would be going very close to last. They had just begun A, starting with Allison Argent. It seemed to be Merlin Emrys, Jack Harkness, Ten Smith, Eleven Smith, him, and Sam Winchester. He released a quiet sigh, shifting his weight off his aching leg. Sam looked at him.

"You okay, man?" He said.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry," he said, shaking his head to clear it. Sam nodded.

"Well, looks like we're going to be here for a while. Probably should sit down."

John nodded gratefully, limping over to the couch. Sam and Merlin sat next to him, as Ten and Eleven grew bored of what they were looking at, and sat across from them. Jack collapsed on the side.

"So, where's everyone from?" he said, looking directly at Sam. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Lawrence, Kansas," he said.

"Good ol' Murica," Jack said. "And you, hedge-y?"

"London," John said. "Wait, hedge-y?"

"Oh, another Brit!" Jack said. "Looks like we're outnumbered, eh, Sammy boy?"

"No, but really. Hedge-y?"

"You have that hedgehog look about you."

"Thanks, I guess?"

"You bet."

The conversation dissolved into small talk that John let himself fade in and out of. None of it really applied to him. He had a group now, but he had no doubt that as soon as they were split up into rooms, the entire dynamic would change. It always did.

Nothing like this could last forever.

He fiddled with the end of his cane, sighing quietly.

He'd probably end up being alone. Not that he minded. No, it gave him time to think... But being alone wears you down. And Lord knows, there was not much left of John to be worn down at all.

He watched as Rose, Martha and Clara came back in, followed by a dark haired young man. Castiel walked in a moment later.

"Hello, boys," Clara said. They looked up at them. "This is Sherlock." Sherlock looked at them all, eyes flashing. They landed on John, and he had the distinct feeling that he knew something about him. They nodded at him, and everyone rearranged to fit the new arrivals. It ended up being Sherlock smashed next to John, who sat next to Sam and Merlin, with Castiel perched on the edge of the couch. (His younger brother was no where to be seen). Opposite them was Rose, Ten, Martha, Clara, and Eleven, with Jack lying on the floor in a vaguely seductive pose.

John turned to Sherlock, clearing his throat.

"John Watson, I presume," the other boy said, before he said a word. "Can I borrow your phone?"

"Umm. Yeah... Sure. Here. How'd you know my name?" John said, as he handed him his phone. Sherlock took it, quickly texting someone, and handing it back in a few seconds.

"I stole a look at a number of my brother's files, and yours had a picture. How's your leg, by the way? Bullet wounds are awfully hard to mend, even at such a young age."

"What?"

"Well, it's almost better. Mostly psychosomatic. All in your head. That's what your therapist thinks. And your brother's fine, by the way. Underage drinking is more common than most people know."

"How-"

"Deduction."

John blinked. "Amazing."

It was Sherlock's turn to look surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Why? What to most people say?"

"Piss off."

John snorted. "I don't blame them. Anyone ever punch you?"

"Once or twice. I have received a few comments threatening violence on me and my family, but nothing too major."

John laughed again. Sherlock looked pleasantly surprised.

"I'd hate to see your definition of too major."

"Serial killers would be at the top."

"Great. Absolutely great."

A sudden shriek interrupted them. Everyone's head snapped around. A girl was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a frankly alarming amount of pink. Pink jacket, pink dress, pink nail polish.

"My suitcase," she said. Another girl ran over. "My suitcase is gone!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay!"

"No, it had everything in it! Everything! I can't send home for anything else! It's all gone."

"They'll find it. It'll be okay."

Sherlock looked much more interested. He rose up, glancing behind him.

"Nice to meet you John," he said, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. "I'll catch you later."

He gave him a smile, and paused as he walked briskly off. "Oh, I've already been sorted if you need me. The room number is 221B," he said with a wink, before disappearing out the doors, leaving John feeling vaguely confused, not aware that he had just met the boy who would lead him to some of the most dangerous things he would ever face.

A/N: So I know this is a pitifully short chapter after such a long break, but I really wanted to let you know that I wasn't giving up on this story. I just have a lot of projects going on, and then school started up again, and literally is eating up all my time. And, while I love writing it, I'm finding it really hard to, get motivated to actually, like do the writing... I don't know. It's weird.

So what I propose is, I'm hoping to get up a Halloween special, up on the thirty first. In between then, they'll be short chapters like this, if I have time to write them.

Let us hope that school won't be as crazy! (hahaha, it's killing me slowly)