Werewolf in London
"What's wrong with Sherlock John? I can't get him to talk to me. All he does is stare out the window," Mrs. Hudson said in a worried tone to John. John faked a smile and leaned in close to give her an explanation without Sherlock overhearing him.
"Two Americans have been poking their noses at Gwen's case so Sherlock invited them here to have a chat with them. I don't know if they are going to help or not but they said they know who is responsible," John said softly.
"What. They said they knew 'what' is responsible," Sherlock interrupted not looking away from the window. Mrs. Hudson and John shook their heads and Mrs. Hudson went to make some tea. Sherlock didn't say anything after that and John didn't want to disturb his thoughts. He knew that he was lost in thought, thinking of her. Time passed and the Winchester's still hadn't showed their faces. Sherlock began to play his violin, composing John suspected. Finally the doorbell rang and the two Americans came in.
"Sorry, had a bit of trouble locating the place," Dean chuckled nervously as they came up the stairs. Sam was carrying a large bag that both John and Sherlock couldn't keep the curiosity at bay.
"In case we need some proof," Sam said with a shrug. Sherlock laughed a little at them, analyzing what he knew about the two men and then speculated what was in the bag.
"Proof? What exactly do you need proof of?" He was more than moderately curious. Same just gave him a passive 'you'll see' and took a seat next to his older brother. With a heavy sigh the two began. Sherlock could tell they did this sort of thing a lot, explaining their line of work, if that's what you could even call it, to people not apt to believe them.
"We found out about your wife's case because we've been working on six exactly like it. And we came to you because we want to catch him just as much as you do. We can help each other; we have a unique situation at hand here. You know this city, you know Gwendolyn's habits, her friends, and her schedule and with this knowledge you can give us a timeline to establish things," Sam began. Sherlock gathered he was the more eloquent of the brothers, the brother with the book smarts. He studied the boys a little more closely for a long while as they talked to John. The suits they were wearing were cheaply made, obviously used only for pretending to be feds and nothing more. Now the suits had been replaced by faded and ripped jeans, wrinkled shirts and grungy shoes, they clearly lived out of suitcases. Both had been drinking, though not much. He could smell a faint trace of gun powder, they must have been working with guns earlier, maybe packing shells, he wasn't completely sure but it was a well educated guess.
"Earlier today you said you know what killed my wife, not who," Sherlock butted in cutting John off. John let out a sigh use to the fact he did that all time as Sherlock brought his fingers to a steeple and rested his chin upon them. Dean made his little nervous chuckle again. Sherlock gathered this man was not very comfortable with his presence.
"Yes, yes in fact we did say that. But you know what that's why we have proof. I know you are a man of facts and science Mr. Holmes," Dean began.
"Please, it's Sherlock. Mr. Holmes is what the British government calls my older brother when they are kissing his ass."
"Well…Sherlock we have facts. We've got so many facts it'll make you head spin." Sherlock smirked.
"Doubtful, thought you are more than welcome to try," He retorted slightly amused. John stayed silent as he surveyed the situation at hand. He knew Sherlock was enjoying this maybe more than he should be. He was more likely to believe the Winchester's than Sherlock from the start. But if john wasn't the one they were trying to convince, he would be easy to persuade.
"I'm sure a simple book won't do the trick, so we decided to give you a firsthand look at what we do for a living. I know Dr. Watson here can shoot a gun, but what about you? Are you skilled with a fire arm?"
"Yes, I am," Sherlock drawled. John was completely immersed in the conversation. Sherlock on the other hand was growing bored of it all.
"We'll make it as simple for you as we possibly can, though we know you don't need it. We are what you would call hunters and we hunt down the things that go bump in the night. Vampires, ghosts, werewolves, demons, angles, you name it we've killed it," Dean said to Sherlock and John. Sherlock didn't do anything for a second and then let out a full bellied laugh. He laughed more than he had in weeks.
"You've got to be joking. This clearly a joke isn't it? You can't possibly think I am going to believe this hocus pocus? Lastrade put you up to this didn't he? No…of course…this has you written all over it John. Come off now, fess up," Sherlock replied with a huge grin on his face. The brothers sat there awkwardly as the two began to banter.
"Of course not Sherlock! Why would you possibly think that? What, did I hire a couple of actors to give you a laugh is that what you are insinuating? Are you telling me I made up characters like Mor…" John cut himself off and got all flustered and ran off to the kitchen to get something. Sherlock knew what he was going to say. He wasn't bothered by it he knew it was a valid point. Dean stood up and brought John back not wanting to take anymore.
"Alright, that's enough. Now either you come with us an help us gank this ghost we found to help prove to you what we do is real and we aren't complete nut jobs, or we work your wife's case whether you like it or not," Dean snapped losing his temper a tiny bit. John and Sherlock stopped bickering and gazed at him intently. Sherlock noted that John was stuck on the word 'gank' mouthing it over and over to himself with a puzzled look on his face.
"Has anyone told you that you two fight like an old married couple?" Sam jumped in laughing.
"How many times do I have to say it?! I. AM. NOT. GAY! Not that it seems anyone listens or cares…" John gave an outraged cry. Sherlock couldn't hold back the chuckle as John sat back down and tried to calm down.
"So…here's the game plan…."