After we landed, we had to change about one thousand dollars in U.S money to British Pounds, which was only about six hundred forty pounds. We then hailed a taxi to Baker Street. The whole ride there, there were interesting things to see, but I couldn't focus. I was in a taxi, in London, about to meet the greatest detective of all time. We were let off, we gave the cabbie a handsome tip, and he sped off.
"I love London," I commented as we were walking to 221b Baker Street.
"Tals, we've been in this city an hour," Dean commented. He decided to call me Tals earlier on the flight during one of his panic attacks, and he had been calling me that ever since.
"Well, it's some place different from home," I said. Sam shushed me. We had reached the home of Sherlock Holmes.
"Now Tals. Don't fangirl over him," Dean coached me while Sam knocked at the door.
"I'm a professional. And stop calling me Tals," I said.
Sam stopped knocking. There was a brief silence, and then the door opened. A man with short black curly hair answered the door. He had blue eyes, and was fixing a scarf. He frowned, as if our mere presence disgusted him.
" Hello Mr. Holmes. I am Agent Daniel Charles. These are my partners Agents Brynn-"
"Wrong!" Mr. Holmes yelled, "Agents never introduce themselves with their first name. The suits you are wearing are rented, judging by the stains on the collar and how they look very worn. You were just on a long flight. You have an American accent. And this girl here can't be more than sixteen. Don't waste my time." Sherlock walked off down the road. Just then, John Watson, Sherlock's flatmate, came running out of the apartment after Sherlock.
"Sherlock!" He yelled after the handsome detective.
"They are wasting my time. Molly is waiting. I have three hundred bodies to view," Sherlock continued to walk away.
"Wait! Mr. Holmes!" I yelled to Sherlock.
"What?" He said, deadly calm.
"Well… If we are lying about our names, we must have a good reason right? I mean, a detective like yourself could deduce that much. Please, give us a chance sir," I argued.
Sherlock considered this. Then, he turned around.
"You're brighter than you look," He commented.
"Umm… I don't know how to take that," I said.
"Fine. You have five minutes to explain yourself. Then, I'm leaving." Sherlock put his arms behind his back, and looked at Dean.
"Alrighty. My name is Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam. This would be Thalia Quinn Cora-something Westfall."
"Coraline," I corrected.
"Yeah that. We're from the U.S, and we are tracking down this case. You, know, the one with like three hundred dead people? Well, we found out from sources that you were on the case, and we wanted to interview you," Dean finished.
"Is that all? Why are you investigating this case? Who are you investigating it for? Who are you?" Sherlock questioned.
"You would never believe us, Mr. Holmes," I stated.
"Tell me, who you are, and what you are doing here!" Sherlock demanded.
"We…" I tried to explain.
"I'm not sure how to put this Mr. Holmes, but there are monsters around the world. We are the people that keep them from being common knowledge," Sam tried.
"I'm sorry, but what does that even mean?" John spoke up.
"You know the old tales. Count Dracula, Ghosts, Frankenstein, Werewolves, Unicorns, Demons, Angels, God, Lucifer-"
"Hate him," Sam interrupted Dean.
"That stuff. Everything is real. We kill it." I continued for Dean.
Sherlock and John just looked at us. Then they started laughing.
"That's a lie! Nothing like that is real! Are you drunk?" Sherlock asked through chuckles.
"We are dead serious. I know it sounds weird, like, we don't go around proclaiming that we're the real life Ghost Busters. But please, try and keep an open mind, Mr. Holmes," I said.
"There is no way that stuff exists!" Sherlock was still laughing.
"A werewolf killed my entire family when I was fourteen," I told him.
"A demon killed my mom and my girlfriend," Sam chimed in.
"Don't insult us, Mr. Holmes. You will not be happy and laughing for very long if you do again," Dean said. Sherlock and John Watson fell silent.
"Mr. Holmes, we just want to interview you. We are going to see Molly Hooper at the morgue in a few hours. How about you reschedule your appointment, and we can interview you?" Sam asked politely. Sherlock considered this. Then, he pulled out his cell phone, and called someone.
"Hello, Molly. Yes. Okay. I will be seeing you in one hour and three minutes," Sherlock hung up.
"That's very exact Mr. Holmes," Dean stated.
"Well, with traffic, the actual interview… Oh, nevermind, you don't care. Follow me." With that, Sherlock turned, walked to the door of 221b,and walked in, followed by Dean, Sam, me, and John. We climbed the stairs to Sherlock's apartment. There were two chairs next to a fireplace. The back wall had patterned wallpaper on it. Painted on was a yellow smiley face with bullet holes through the rings of paint. The kitchen was a mess. The back wall had a couch facing out towards the room. Down a hall were three rooms. I took a seat on the couch beside Sam and Dean. John and Sherlock grabbed two chairs. They sat down.
"So, Mr. Holmes. Have you ever seen something like this before?" Sam asked. He had a notepad out.
"No. Next," the detective said.
"Do you have any idea what could be the cause the purple goo?" Dean asked.
"No. I need to test it first. Next," Sherlock stated.
"Alright. The rest of these questions all relate to the bodies. Why don't we go to the morgue, and we can continue our interview later?" Sam suggested.
"Finally. Let's go," Sherlock stood up, and walked out the door. He was trailed by John.
"Wow. Difficult witness," I stated.
"That's nothing. There was one witness that wouldn't tell us anything, unless we were in another room and gave him steak from a meat joint. He turned out to be the vampire that killed a few people in a small town in South Dakota," Dean said as we followed the detective down the stairs.
"How's Cas?" I asked Dean.
"Cas's great. Claire Novak and Cas hunt together now. They're being their own hunting crew. They didn't want to come to England. Claire was afraid of flying.. I don't blame them, but…"
"I understand. I miss my boyfriend a lot too. I didn't want to keep him in danger, so I broke up with him. He was so sad. He just walked away. We never spoke again. He was a really nice guy too."
"This was just after you're family was killed?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. I know I was only fourteen, but I really liked him," I said just as a taxi pulled up. It was large enough to accommodate us five. I was in the middle of a seat between Dean and Sherlock. Sam and John were in the back. We were silent the whole ride there.
At the morgue, Molly Hooper was waiting anxiously for us.
"There you are!" she exclaimed.
"Hello Molly. Let's see the bodies." Sherlock and her turned and walked into the morgue. The Winchesters and I trailed behind them. We walked in, and we were greeted with a sea of hollow bodies covered in something that looked like grape jelly. They certainly didn't smell like grape jelly. I covered my nose.
"Sherlock, John, who are these people?" Molly asked as Sherlock examined a body.
"They are Dean and Sam Winchester and Thalia Quinn Coraline Westfall," Sherlock stated, peering over a body that belonged to a James Michael Howlter. Dean was looking at another body. I was looking at another one. This body had no internal organs. There were no eyes, and no brain. Sherlock had taken a sample of the grape jelly membrane.
"Does everyone else have a body with no internal organs and no eyes?" I asked.
There was a collective yes from around the room. Sherlock walked off with his sample. I continued to examine the bodies with the Winchesters, Molly, and John. Finally, Sherlock came back.
"Nothing. I've never seen anything like it," Sherlock said. He hated not knowing. There was an irritation in his voice.
"Let's find out shall we?" I said excitedly.
"How?" Dean asked.
"Let's go to Sherlock's. Google it," I suggested.
"That's your suggestion?" Sam asked.
"What's your's? I asked.
"Good point. Let's go," Sherlock flew out the door.