"I... don't know why you're doing this. Why? I know that John already asked this... but I just don't get why you'd-. I feel like you genuinely believe that you're some sort of Angel of the Lord or whatever."
"I do believe it, Greg." Greg pressed his fingers to his mouth. Sherlock never called him Greg. It was always 'Detective', 'Lestrade', or some other strange name beginning with 'G'. Usually Gavin. But now Sherlock was calling him Greg. His first name. His real first name. Sherlock wasn't acting like he normally did. He hadn't been acting like he had normally been ever since he walked in and saw the woman, Tayeal, lying there dead on the floor with the wings burnt out to the side of her. And now Greg just wanted the old Sherlock back. He would take the annoying, sarcastic Sherlock that he'd learned to like over this strange, Angel Sherlock. No, Amoriel. This version of Sherlock was Amoriel. Old Sherlock was Sherlock, and this version of Sherlock was Amoriel. Greg sighed. "So. Your name is Amoriel now." Sherlock nodded, "I have always been Amoriel. I came up with the name Sherlock Holmes so that I wouldn't be tarnishing the name of Victor Trevor, and I did not go around with the name Amoriel. I thought that it would be strange, and suspicious. Mycroft changed his name for just the same reason. His vessel's name was Jonah Heliot. Jonah worked at a convenience store. Like Victor, he had no life ahead of him. Being Dynamious, or Mycroft, Jonah quickly said yes. Now" His voice quickly transitioned from the soft, calm voice that he'd been using throughout the entire business, to what John usually thought of when he thought of Sherlock. He was using Sherlock's voice
"I believe that we still have a case to solve. Obviously it was another Angel that killed Tayeal, having an Angel blade." Castiel stepped forward, "I believe that I can shed some light-"
"Dude. I'm still kinda pissed right now about, you know, freakin' England! Could we go back to Maryland now? We were working a Shtriga case there. You know, evil little bitches. They screw with kids. So... you know, could you just kinda, pop us back?" Cas held up his hand, indicating for Dean to be quiet for a moment. Dean seemed to be offended, and Sam just started laughing. "Dean, your face there is just priceless. It looks like he just insulted your Baby." Dean shook his head, the ridiculous expression on his face sliding off as he did so. "Nah, that would be angrier. I was just surprised that he wasn't, you know, poofs us back without a second glance. Just a bit surprised." Sam laughed again, "Nope. You looked so offended that he ignored you, Princess." Sam used Bobby's jibe. Dean attempted to give Sam a bitchface, but failed epically, only causing Sam to laugh even harder.
"This was done by one of Raphael's men. Tayeal was a good soldier, and a good friend. I am glad that she chose to fight on my side, yet I am saddened that it got her killed. I will report her death to the garrison. I am truly sorry Amoriel." He vanished without a second glance. Sam stopped laughing now. "Hey! He was our only way back to Maryland!" Dean pulled a face, "Come on Cas! Get your damn, holy, feathery ass down here. Now!" He paused for a moment, "Please?" Sam started laughing again, "Oh geez, now he's saying please! You'd better pay attention now!" Sam teased Dean, but Dean childishly stuck his tongue out at Sam and just ignored the comment. John looked like he might pass out. Greg appeared to have already gone into a semi-comatose state where he was actually still awake.
*:*:*:*:*
Twenty minutes later found them all back at Baker Street, with Mrs. Hudson catering to them all. Sherlock kept insisting that he didn't need food. Sam seemed amused by this. "So," he said, after he finished his first cup of tea (of many that he would have in the next hour or so), "Sherlock Holmes. An Angel of the Lord. Damn. Well this definitely wasn't what I was expecting today. What I was expecting was to gank a Shtriga and save a couple kids, but going to London, meeting Sherlock Holmes, finding out that he's an Angel, then drinking tea- excellent tea, if I must say so- in his living room. Naw. Not really what I was quite expecting. How about you Dean?" Dean just nodded his head, too immersed in his new-found adoration in Mrs. Hudson's tea. There was a sharp knocking at the door. Sherlock glanced up, and John could see the cogs working in his brain, and for just a moment, he could imagine that it was a week ago, he didn't know about 'Amoriel', and this was going to be a normal case. Nice normal murder for Sherlock to solve. But when had that ever been the case for any of the for people in the room.
"They're in a hurry. Someone's chasing them. Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock raised his voice at the end, "Could you answer the door, and let the person in?" They could hear Mrs. Hudson opening the door, and then someone running up the stairs. The woman burst into the room, her eyes immediately sought out the person (or people) that she was looking for. The Winchesters. She sought out Sam in particular, "You!" She hissed, "You killed my sisters!" Sam held up his hands, not really expecting any of this, "I'm sorry!" he said, "I promise that I must've had some sort of reason that they're dead! I wouldn't kill anyone in cold blood!" But even as he said it, he knew that it wasn't true, he desperately hoped that this wasn't coming from someone whose sisters that he ran into when he had no soul. Because he knew that, if he had run into anything- human, monster, innocent, guilty- if it had gotten in his way, he would've killed them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I did anything." The creature started to say something, when the blade of a knife could be seen coming through the chest of the thing. The knife was twisted once, and the thing (which the hunters in the room could now identify as a Vetala) started to crumble. It sagged down to the ground, and Sam could now see the person- woman- that had killed it. She was wearing a black tank to make sure that no one would see any blood stains in it, practical jeans that would be unobtrusive while hunting, and her lengthy blond hair put up in a high ponytail that Sam quickly recognized as the universal hunter- female- with- long- hair- that- we- want- to- get- in- the- way- hairstyle. She wore a determined glare that said 'you will not kill anyone anymore. I took care of that'. Sam was reminded of Jo. And it hurt. John was staring at the woman with a blank expression,
"Molly?"
