"Clearly not," He stated bouncing on the tips of his toes. "Popcorn?"
"YOU'RE DEAD!" The man made a face and looked to Mycroft.
"Can you please tell Sherl I'm here and in the living?" Everyone in the room was stunned. There was a random man in the flat with popcorn.
"Any-who…" The man began taking small, sashaying steps forward. "I just figured I'd stop by for a chat."
"But… YOU DIED!"
The man groaned. "Sherl, give it a rest, darling. Look, I'm on my feet and - OOF!" The man had failed to notice the still sleeping Dean on the floor. His foot had caught under the hunter's injured torso, flinging him to the ground and waking Dean.
"What the frick?!" Dean sounded, struggling to sit up. The mysterious man pushed himself up with his hands.
"Oh. Hello." He stood once more, dusting himself off and retrieving his popcorn bag. He stepped over Dean and seated himself in Sherlock's chair, crossing his legs. "Anyway, continue arguing. It's exhilarating to watch!" He smiled and tossed a kernel of popcorn into his mouth, crunching loudly.
"This man is tinted…" Cas said, confused. "He's not a demon… but he's been in contact with something bad." Before this point, no one understood the severeness of this man, how truly bad Moriarty was.
"You mean my old friend Luci!" Moriarty said cheerfully. Dean shot up.
"LUCIFER!... LUCIFER, THE DEVIL, BROUGHT YOU BACK FROM HELL!"
"Well it sure does seem that way, I wasn't going to come back for a while until I got a good old notification that Mycroft was calling you, Sherl. Then I made some popcorn and got myself down here, now please, carry on with whatever you were doing."
Everyone was silent for a moment. No one knew what to do. Sherlock was in a state of complete mental shock, his eyes locked on Moriarty. Mycroft was in a similar state. The Doctor was at a complete loss and debating whether or not it would be a good idea to slink back into the TARDIS and just leave. Castiel, Sam, and Dean were all experiencing warning bells ringing loud in their heads.
"Oh, you all are no fun." Moriarty pouted. "Oh, and wherever is your little pet, Sherlock? Off eloping with Mary? Oh… wait…" Moriarty faked a sad frown.
Sherlock stiffened. That was a sore spot. He and John didn't talk about it. Sherlock thanked… something that John was passed out on the floor for that comment.
Moriarty then noticed John's form on the floor. "Ah, he's taking a nap, the old geezer. Well, let's wake the soldier, shall we?" Moriarty clapped two times and John was awake. Confused and a bit ruffled, John pushed himself up. When he saw Moriarty, he stiffened. Sherlock swallowed, as he could guess fairly accurately the storm that was brewing inside his friend's head.
"John, ignore him." Sherlock said, reaching out to lay a hand on his flatmate's shoulder.
"You…" John's voice was barely above a whisper. "H..how are you… how did you…"
"Blah blah blah, Moriarty's alive oh my gosh! Blah blah, we know we know." Moriarty said in a mocking tone. "Now, how's our dear friend John? Things going well? Anything exciting happen in, oh, I dunno, your love life?" John's jaw clenched. "Oh, right, I forgot, your wife died recently, yeah? And it was all Sherlock's fault, wasn't it?"
"Shut. Up." John's voice was quiet. Any louder and it would have cracked.
"Did she scream? I bet she did. Sherlock, you were there, did she scream?" Moriarty turned to Sherlock, smile prominent on his face. Sherlock felt the familiar stabbing sensation of guilt hit him.
"Oh, and poor John had to hold her in his arms as the life drained from her. How hard, to watch the love of your life die in your care and know that you could have, should have stopped it, knowing there is nothing you can do to help."
"I said shut up." John was rigid. The event was playing back in his head, each horrific moment. His rising sadness began to harden into anger. Moriarty was supposed to be dead. And now here he was, talking about his dead wife as if he actually cared.
"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to make you cry," Moriarty put a hand on his chest. "Such a sad scene!" He then began throwing popcorn kernels at John, as if he was watching an upsetting moment in a movie.
"So, who exactly is this guy?" The Doctor whispered to Mycroft.
"Someone very bad." Mycroft murmured back.
Each kernel that hit the soldier's face brought him closer to the edge. A familiar moment of fury rose to his memory. He had memorized every detail on the man's face as those fingers struck his own. He hadn't dared move, for Mary's sake. But it was pointless. She died anyway. John's anger boiled in his chest, tingling through his arms and flushing into his face.
"Throw one more kernel. I dare you." John said in a hushed tone. Moriarty smirked, delicately tossing one more butter covered morsel. It struck John in the forehead and dropped to the floor.
John hadn't noticed he'd moved until his hands were around Moriarty's throat. He squeezed, pouring every amount of emotion that was in him into his hands. Moriarty's face smiled back at him. His eyes blinked to reveal two pitch black pools. Without moving a muscle, Moriarty flung John off and into the kitchen. The soldier crashing into the closed doors of the TARDIS and slid to the floor. Sherlock rushed to his friend's side immediately.
"He's a demon!" Sam cried. Castiel was instantly on guard, unsure if Sam was entirely correct. Dean rose painfully from the floor, ready for as much of a fight as he could muster.
"Well, I wouldn't say a 'demon' exactly," Moriarty rose, straightening his tie casually. "I'm much more powerful."
"What kind of deal did you make with Lucifer?" Castiel asked, a hardened tone in his voice. Moriarty turned his attention to the angel.
"He resurrected me, gave me powers, all for one tiny little favor." The man clenched his fists, feeling his power flow through his veins. Sam and Dean quietly began moving forward towards the demon.
"What kind of favor?" Castiel asked. The sound of feathers rustling filled the brief silences as the angel prepared himself for battle.
"Nothing too huge. Something that I was planning on all along. For one, rid the world of Sherlock Holmes and his pet Watson. Next, well, he didn't let me get too ahead of myself." With that, his attention was brought back to the men in the kitchen. "Speaking of you two, I should finish you off, shouldn't I?"
John, who had gotten back to his feet by then, reached for his gun at his hip. He found nothing. Right, the Doctor threw it out. Joy.
"Such a bummer that things had to end up this way." Moriarty sighed, moving forward. He sounded genuinely disappointed. "I always have loved watching you two rats scramble around, trying to solve my puzzles." Sherlock scowled, taking defensive positions next to John.
"Well, one must do what he must." Moriarty raised a hand, a solemn yet bored expression falling over his face. The flatmates braced for an attack, but it never came. Sam and Dean simultaneously leaped forward and tackled the demon, pinning him to the floor.
"Quick, get outta here!" Dean grunted. Sherlock and John nodded, making their way out of the kitchen quickly. Castiel rushed past them, a chair in his arms. He plopped it in the middle of an area of open floor. Quickly, the angel grabbed a can of spray paint and began to draw a symbol on the floor.
"Hurry up, Cas!" Sam shouted. Audible struggling came from the kitchen. Just as Castiel finished the symbol, Sam came through the room, landing in Sherlock's chair and tipping it backwards. Dean was quick to follow, crashing into his brother in a dazed heap.
"Someone help me!" Castiel ordered, practically leaping into the kitchen to wrangle the squirming demon. The Doctor reacted instantly, signalling for Rory to follow. Together, the three men dragged Moriarty out of the kitchen and into the circle on the floor. Moriarty dashed forward, out of their grasps and towards Sherlock. However, he stopped at the edge of the circle, trapped in place.
"What? What is this?" Moriarty snarled, frustration apparent.
"Devil's trap." Dean replied, rising from the floor. He wiped blood from his lip and turned his head to spit on the carpet. "You're going nowhere."
Moriarty scowled for a moment before collecting himself once more. "Fine. Could you at least bring me my popcorn?" When no one did as he requested, the demon sighed and seated himself in the chair. "Fine."
Silence filled the room. Sherlock and John hovered close together, eyes locked on Moriarty. Sam and Dean popped their joints back into place casually. Castiel did the same, the sound of feathers following his movements as usual. Moriarty himself pouted in his chair, undoubtedly planning. Mycroft had isolated himself, standing on the other end of the room. The Doctor and Rory had returned to Amy, staying close.
"If you're going to keep me locked up in here, you could at least provide some form of entertainment." Moriarty said, crossing his legs delicately.
The silence resumed. Moriarty frowned. Then, much to his delight, the door opened.
"Look, I know you said it was a bad time, but-" Lestrade snapped his mouth shut at the scene before him. He stared in silent shock at the scene for a few moments. "I… am not even going to ask. I'll be going now." With that, he turned and closed the door behind him.
"So," Amy leaned towards the Doctor, keeping her voice low, "what are we still doing here?"
"Oh, come Amy. Helping people is what we do!" The Doctor responded.
"Don't you think we're a bit… under-qualified for this?" Amy asked, gesturing towards the man seated in the chair and the angel staring intently at him.
"She does have a point, Doctor." Rory added. "Couldn't we just let them sort it out for themselves for once?"
The Doctor frowned, scanning the room once more. "I think we should stay."
"Ok, do you know anything about demons?" Amy challenged, crossing her arms. The Doctor didn't answer, looking lost in thought.
"... no…." He finally answered.
"Exactly. We're a bit out of our league on this one."
"When has that ever stopped us before?" The Doctor pointed out. His companions didn't answer; he had a point. The Doctor smiled triumphantly. "It's decided then. We stay."