9) …with no sense of personal space (Part 1)
"Come on, John!" Sherlock hisses as I look out the window for the fifth time.
"Sorry! It's not my fault I want to make sure no one saw us!"
Sherlock walks up the stairs to the room where the woman was murdered. We find it taped off and dried blood is still on the floor. Sherlock leans down and looks at the scene carefully. I hear the door open and I stand still.
"Sherlock!" I whisper harshly.
"It's not the homeowner. Hurry, in here!"
He pulls me into the closet adjacent to the room and I peek through the crack, Sherlock flushed behind me.
"So, are you sure he's going to come back?" I see a tall American, judging by his voice, man with brown hair barely above his shoulders."
"Yeah. We'll have to stop him before he gets hungry again. We should check the rest of the house for him." The other man has short, David Beckham-like hair and is American as well.
I see the long-haired man nod to the closet and I cling onto Sherlock. The short-haired man walks slowly up to the door and I see a shotgun in his hand. He opens the door and I find myself face to face with the muzzle. I lift my hands to show I'm unarmed and Sherlock does the same, albeit calmly.
"Who are you two?"
"I'm John Watson and this is Sherlock Holmes. We were just here to examine the crime scene."
The long-haired man twitches his head to the side, "Why?"
"Sherlock is a consulting detective. He was trying to figure out why the woman died when you two came in."
The long-haired man lowers his gun as does his companion.
"You guys shouldn't be here."
"And why not?" Sherlock asks haughtily.
The short-haired man gives him a look and rolls his eyes, "This is a dangerous place to be."
"I know that. Crime scenes usually are. Now can you leave? I'm trying to solve the case."
The short-haired man scoffs and I narrow my eyes.
"You don't understand. This isn't a normal crime scene." the long-haired man answers.
"What do you mean? It's just a murder." Sherlock says impatiently.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try us." I answer, my arms crossed in defiance.
The short-haired man shrugs, "My name's Dean Winchester. This here's my brother Sam. We hunt monsters."
I laugh and Sherlock glares at the two.
"You two are a riot. Now can you leave? Sherlock needs to figure this out. We have stuff to do."
Dean frowns and signals at Sam to do something.
"We weren't lying. It wasn't a normal murder. The woman was eaten alive by her son who happens to be a Rugaru. Rugaru's are creature that, at a certain age, turn into feral, cannibalistic monsters." Sam says.
Sherlock ignores the man and walks over to the tape. He crouches again and begins to search for clues.
"Why should we believe you?" I question.
"It's true. Now, you two need to leave. The Rugaru could come back any minute. He's going to come back to where he thinks is safest, which is his home."
"Why should we leave? We were here firs-" I jump back and pull Sherlock with me when I spot a sickly-looking man in the doorway, dried blood on his face. Sam turns and gets shoved back by the man. Sam's head slams onto the floor and he blacks out. Dean turns in surprise and pulls out a small flame thrower. The man runs quickly, almost inhumanly, and slaps Dean away. Dean hit's the door with a crack and it looks like he's knocked out. The man stalks up to us and I yank Sherlock behind me, pinning him to the window. The man licks his lips and I see he has pure black eyes. I punch him and the man grabs my fist in his hand. He squeezes it and I feel the bones in my hand break. I yell in pain and Sherlock squirms behind me, trying to defend me. I see movement and all of a sudden, the man is on fire. He screams in horror but the screams die down. I turn to find Dean, blood running down his head. He looks at us and smirks.
"Told you the Rugaru would come back."
Sherlock pushes me away and examines my hand.
"All the bones are broken. We'll have to go to the A&E right now."
"What was that?" I ignore Sherlock and turn to Dean, who's rousing Sam.
"Rugaru. Come with us. We'll explain everything on the way to Mia's house."
"John, we need someone to look at your hand or it'll set wrong. You're a doctor! You should know this!" Sherlock comments worriedly.
I sigh and turn to tell Sam and Dean when I spot another man behind Dean.
"You guys!" I yell and Dean turns with his flamethrower pointed at the man.
"Goddamn it Cas! You scared us!" Dean growls.
"I am sorry. Hermione only wanted me to tell you two that dinner will be ready in thirty minutes."
"What? Who is that and how do you two know Hermione?" I ask.
"This is our friend Cas. He's an angel. Hermione is our cousin."
"Well, second cousin." Sam says, "Hey, Cas, do you think you can fix John's hand? On second thought, can you fix all of us? I think I heard Dean's shoulder crack and I might have a concussion."
Cas nods and presses his hand onto my forehead. Almost immediately, my hand is okay. I flex it a bit and gape as the man touches the other two men. Dean flinches slightly and I blink in disbelief. Sherlock looks unperturbed but I notice some shock in his eyes. Sam smirks and says, "Well? Are you two coming or not?"