Leave a "Offer Me" in my ask, and I'll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift. With John Watson
Crowley popped up on Baker Street, a large wrapped parcel in his hands. He supposed it was time to introduce himself to the great and intuitive Sherlock Holmes, and his little sidekick John Watson and what better way to do so than bearing a gift in hand?
Crowley knocked politely on the door, which was opened several moments later by an kind looking elderly woman.
"Evening, ma'am. I'm here for Mr. Holmes and Watson?" Crowley's English accent emphasized, he supposed it had something to do with being back in good old London, rather than the states.
"Oh of course, come in! I'm Mrs. Hudson, the landlady. Not a housekeeper, as those two boys seem to think I am." The lady led him through the building, heading up a flight of stairs. "I'm afraid that Sherlock isn't in right now, I'm not actually sure where he is. Maybe John will know. John!" She called through the door, knocking against the wood. "You've got a visitor!"
The door to 221B at Baker Street opened, and a man about Crowley's height opened the door, suspiciously eyeing the demon at his doorstep.
"I'll leave you two dears alone now. Do have fun!" Mrs. Hudson headed back down the stairs, dithering all the while.
"So, who are you?" John asked, his face relaxed but his posture tense.
"Crowley, pleasure. I'm just here to drop off a gift basket of a sorts."
"Of sorts?"
"Well, an acquaintance of mine wanted to give something to you as a present. But he had to go out of town, so asked me if I could help. There's a note inside for you from him."
Crowley handed the parcel to John, giving a small smile.
"I do hope we can talk more in the future. Unfortunately I have to run, but here's my cell if you ever feel like catching a bite or something." John nodded, holding the package carefully as if it were a bomb ready to blow. The demon would have snorted if it wouldn't have looked terrible. Honestly, the only things inside was a basket of baked goods, courtesy of Crowley's kitchen, some wine, and some fruit. Nothing special.
The only thing that would most likely cause the consulting detective and his blogger a cause to worry would be the note.
Crowley exited out of the building and pulled out his phone, pressing a button and putting the cell to his ear.
"He-llo?!" A voice practically sang into his ear.
"Jimbo. Your little deed is done" Crowley said cheerfully into the phone. He heard the person on the other end say something about flaying and the demon just rolled his eyes.
"Really, Jimmy. You should know by now that your threats just make me disappointed, since they don't ever come true."
"Yes, yes. Watson got the package and your note. Honestly, next time you want a favor, try to make a bit more interesting, yes?" Crowley snapped his phone closed.
Psychopaths. You could always count on them to be predictable. Moriarty included.