*I don't own Sherlock/Supernatural*
Sherlock sat stunned- clutching his tea until his knuckles turned more white than they already were. "That's impossible, John."
John quirked a blonde eyebrow at his flat mate (trying not to be too angry). "You realize that it's very difficult for me to tell you all of this, right? I was trying to get out of the life- or at least hunt when you were too preoccupied to notice." Sherlock's eyebrows knit together.
"So, you've been lying to me? I thought we said no more lies…" He sounded hurt, like a child when they discover the truths of our mad world.
"No, not exactly. It's more like omitting. And it was all to protect you. Do you realize how many times you've almost gotten eaten by an angry demon, or vampire, or, or…" He trailed off, slowly recognizing the similarities between Sherlock's own deception.
"So you've figured that out, then?" Said flat mate stated with a quirk of his lips that might be a smile.
"I'm terribly sorry, Sherlock. I wasn't sure you'd believe me." John said, eyes fixed on the windows.
"All is forgiven. But- why did you decapitate the vampire?" Sherlock's tone was eager and slightly incredulous.
"It's a vampire. If you don't decapitate them they don't stay dead. And no, you cannot have one to experiment on." The eager light in Sherlock's eyes seemed to dim a little.
"The vampire, it called you great. Are you a famed Hunter?" Sherlock sounded as if this bit of information was hard to connect to his jumper wearing best friend.
"Yeah. My family was sort of the renowned hunters in the UK and Ireland, till they got killed by an upper level demon. I've got some contacts in America, some all around the world really. It's not as if the demons concentrate on a specific area. Well, they are trying to stage the Apocalypse in America. So, I guess that counts. Luckily for us, the Angels are as angry as us about that. You'd like the angels. They don't do social either." John was babbling.
Sherlock asked his question from earlier. "We didn't call an ambulance because she'd be turned, correct? And that goop you fed her returned her to a human state. Why didn't you just use that on the other vampire? Was it something to do with blood?" He looked genuinely interested, a rare expression to grace Sherlock's face (and cheekbones).
"Pretty much. If a vampire has ingested human blood they can't use the cure. One of my American friends went for a while without feeding- which is a huge feat. His family brought the cure over with them on the Mayflower. There's other monsters out there. It's not just vampires and demons. There are Skinwalkers, and werewolves, witches, pagan gods that eat people. The list gets bigger every Hunt." Sherlock grinned at his explanations.
"Oh this is Christmas!" he exclaimed. "I knew something had to be bothering you, but this- this is magnificent!" John grinned back at him.
"But they're even more dangerous than your average criminal." Sherlock's phone rang almost immediately after John had finished his warning. Sherlock frowned at it.
"Lestrade. Probably about our vampire. I'll answer it. Hello? Yes, we'll be there in a few." Sherlock nodded at John. "It's probably best if you got a new jacket. Lestrade found a different murder. Apparently the body had sulfur by it. Is that something supernatural?" Sherlock had begun to pace.
"Well, let's go then." John said, returning with a new jumper (his had vampire blood on it) and a fresh jacket (the old one had that woman's blood soaking into its fibers).
The crime scene was gruesome. John recognized it as a demon's work immediately. Lestrade had seemed pleased to see them. Sherlock kept sending quizzical glances John's way, and it was starting to get irritating. They left after a brief altercation with Sergeant Donovan. She'd insulted Sherlock, again. Honestly, the woman never learned from the cold shoulder. John had finally had enough of her nitpicking.
"Sergeant!" He barked. She jumped and paled, shoulders seeming to draw straighter. "Sherlock is my best friend. And I'd advise you to stop insulting him before I do something that will make this murder look like child's play." If possible, Sally grew paler. "Now apologize."
"Sorry Sherlock." She mumbled demurely and the duo excused themselves from the crime scene shortly after.
"It was a demon." John said to Sherlock's unspoken question. "And I'm tired. It's almost 3 hundred hours. Let's go back to the flat and get some sleep."
When they returned John couldn't rest until he'd established a thin line of salt around the perimeter of their flat, and Mrs. Hudson's just to be cautious.
Morning brought John's favorite- jam and tea. Sherlock was asleep on the couch in his dressing gown. He set a mug down by his friend to be kind. He switched the telly on to hear a few snippets of news before Sherlock dragged him off on another adventure.
"Scotland Yard has confirmed reports of multiple rumors by a supposed Jack Ripper copy cat. Detective Inspector Lestrade has been given the case, and refrains from further comment." Sherlock rubbed his eyes blearily.
"So that's what they're calling the Demon case?" He mumbled. "Wrong, obviously."
"You wouldn't have gotten it right two days ago, either." John teased, sipping his tea and switching off the telly (he could just tell that Sherlock was going to drag him into Scotland Yard to see if there was a new victim). Sherlock hmphed at John in displeasure. John's ring tone burst the morning ritual of tea drinking.
The number was out of country. John sighed, the Winchesters must've run into some trouble before heading home and needed someone to bail them out. Typical American hunters.
"Yeah." John's voice was dry, the epitome of 'Don't mess with me, because you will lose horridly'.
"Demons. This country is full of 'em. Castiel! Get your hands off of my coffee. Go try some tea or something. The Brits seem to like tea! Sorry, John. We saw the murder on the news and were wondering if you needed any help? We've been stopping at tourist attractions and ganking local haunts. But, Cas says we have to be charitable to our hosts or some sissy junk like that. So, I'm calling you and he's monopolizing my coffee." Dean was Dean as always.
"It would be great if you could stay in the country for a few more days. I just introduced a friend to the whole demon thing, and he's insisting on running head first into it." John's conversation had piqued Sherlock's interest, until the thinly veiled barb that is.
"I am not."
"You are."
"Not. I'm Bored." John rolled his eyes at the childish behavior and returned to the phone call.
"Can you text? It's so much more efficient than a phone call when sneaking up on a monster."
"Yeah. I'll keep you posted. NO Cas, not my pie! Sorry John, Gotta go. I have to kill an angel for eating my freakin pie. My pie, man!"
John started to chuckle. Dean was refreshingly honest behind all the webs of lies he told to others. "Hopefully we won't have to see you, but it's good knowing you're there to save our arses if things go south. 'Bye Dean. Give my regards to Sam and Castiel."
The call disconnected with a shout from Sam about not flirting during his breakfast and to get a room. So things were like that then. John turned to Sherlock.
"Let's go see Lestrade then. Come along John." His flat mate said- dressed in the time span of a short phone call. John chugged the rest of his tea and hurried after his best friend.
A/N Demon Anderson is coming, I swear. Let me know how this is, and the direction you want it to go in (or I'll end up doing something incredibly dumb with the character development, probably).