Chapter 4

John Watson of 221B Baker Street was enjoying his evening tea when Sherlock burst through the door. After all they'd been through yesterday he'd thought that perhaps his best friend would be mellow for once. Sam and Dean Winchester's Castiel had zapped demon Anderson halfway across the world to America for interrogation. Sherlock had been oddly pleased that the lesser intelligence had been possessed by a demon of high standing, if just so he could get rid of him. The groan that passed through John's tea stained lips was almost automatic. Sherlock was back from his jaunt around London and returned pale and covered in ebony demon's blood. "Sherlock! Why is it every time you leave the flat you have to come back covered in some sort of body fluid?! Drawing attention to yourself that way is the last thing a Hunter wants!" Sherlock glanced sheepishly down at his stained shirt and was surprised when a splash of holy water was thrown at his face.

"What was that for?!" the detective demanded.

"You could be possessed. I'm not taking any chances and besides, you're covered in demon blood!"

"Sorry John." The curly haired detective wiped his face with a slightly stained sleeve- only serving to smear the blood around his features. "We've got a new case!" he said excitedly, as if to distract his flatmate from his anger.

"I don't bloody care, Sherlock! You could have a stack of cases, and I would still want to-to…" He trailed off, distracted by the red seeping through the demon's blood covering Sherlock. "You're hurt!" The smaller man jumped up from his comfy chair and sprinted for medical supplies. "What happened? Sherlock?!"

John was jolted out of his worries with Sherlock's interruption.

"John! I am fine. It was only a minor criminal. He just so happened to be possessed by a demon. I have a few minor cuts- that is all."

"God help me Sherlock. If you're lying…just." John ran a hand down his face. "go get cleaned up. I'll take a look see after you're not covered in demon blood."

Sherlock hadn't been lying. He had a few minor cuts and bruises. Unfortunately, he still had to listen through John's rant about safety. After Sherlock had settled in for a sulk on the couch and was enjoying a lovely cup of tea, Mycroft arrived in his pompous splendor.

"Brother dear."

"Mycroft. What do you want?" John asked gruffly, not in a good enough mood to deal with the elder Holmes. Sherlock had begun to protest his brother's entry to the flat but was cut short by John's glare.

"Oh, I just have a few questions concerning both of your activities this week." The statement was laced with animosity. "Specifically on the disappearance of one yard agent and the sudden appearance of several wanted Americans."

John sighed. Mycroft sure made staying under radar interesting. "Tea?"

"Yes please. I do think this conversation will take some time." Mycroft shifted his brother's legs off of the sofa and sat.

John disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a seemingly normal cup of tea. Unbeknownst to Mycroft, John had slipped holy water into the beverage. There was no room to be reckless, even if he had demon traps at every entrance to the flat.

"What do you want to know, Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded, glaring at his brother.

"Oh do be quiet Sherlock. I'm here to speak to John. It seems that he knows more about this business than you do." Mycroft's expression grew feral as he stared at the hunter.

John plopped into his armed chair, sighing.

"All right, Mycroft. I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Start at the beginning, in your childhood, John." Sherlock suggested from his slouched position on the couch.

"All right. You haven't heard this bit, so you might want to pay attention." John settled himself in his chair. "When I was ten my parents were murdered. They had gone away on a hunting trip leaving Harry in charge of me. Harry was sixteen at the time and they were only supposed to be gone for three days. This was quite normal, but usually Harry and I would accompany them. Supposedly, an escaped mental patient killed them, but my sister and I knew better. See, we'd been raised in the life. We knew it was a demon. Our father had been tracking the uprising of two powerful demons recently released from Hell's depths. Harry and I were sent to live with our uncle on my mother's side, who didn't know about the hunting life. He convinced Harriet that what she'd thought she knew was just her imagination. I never stopped believing though. When I was eighteen I got this." John pulled his jumper down to show a five-point star inside of a sun tattooed over his heart.

Sherlock interrupted. "I want one too!"

"You can have one of my spare medallions until we can visit a friend of mine." John said to placate the genius.

"Harry thought I was insane, and we haven't spoken very much since I told her I was still hunting after she left Clara. I hunted for most of my college years before joining the military. I was chasing a demon that killed men on active duty. That and some stupid Angel told me I had to. Can't say I've seen him again. He probably got ganked after Castiel tried to take over heaven. But I digress, I joined the military was shot by the demon I was chasing as it died, and the rest you know. The Winchesters are old friends of the family. It pays to have contacts in other countries if a creature decides to go over borders. John Winchester, Dean and Sam's dad, came to the UK to hunt a few times when the boys were young. He helped me out of a bind with some werewolves and I gave him tips on tracking the demon that killed his wife. I'm still tracking the bastard that killed my parents. He disappeared after that, and it wasn't the demon-Orobas- who possessed Anderson. Castiel, he's an angel, took Anderson who is really Orobas to the United States for questioning. Orobas is second in command to Crowley, who's taken over Hell after Lucifer was sealed in his cage by Sam and Dean." John swallowed, his throat dry. "And that's about it."

Mycroft stared at him. "And you, hunt mythical creatures? My brother believes this?"

Sherlock answered for John. "Of course I believe him! It's the truth."

John chuckled. "Yeah, I hunt. I was trying to leave the life because I thought it would keep Sherlock safe, but the vampire that tried to kill us the other night had other ideas."

Mycroft sighed. "I will need some proof other than Sherlock believing you. He's tragically misguided by his emotions for you."

John bristled. "We were about to go and check up on a local haunt this weekend. You can come if you wish." Mycroft nodded his assent, rose, and exited the flat. "Come round in the morning and we'll give you a lift!" John shouted after him.

Sherlock turned to the blogging hunter. "Since when do we have a way to give him a lift?" he demanded.

"Since forever Sherlock."

A/N: This is the obligatory part where I tell you how sorry I am for not updating in forever. :) Enjoy!