Werewolf in London
Sam and Dean carefully explained the plan to Sherlock and John. Sherlock tried very hard to not feel foolish. Hunting a ghost, this is seriously what his life without Gwen had come too? Who could have possibly known this was going to be in store for him?
"There have been recent reports of some serious ghost activity as of late and we did our research and we know who has been up to things," Dean said in a matter of fact tone. Sherlock raised an eyebrow mockingly at the man and waited.
"And?"
"It's William Blythe, a locale who died some thirty years ago and forgot he died, " Same replied. Sherlock scoffed at him.
"And how are we suppose to 'gank' as you say a ghost?"
"We salt and burn his bones. But we've come across a problem during our research," Dean elaborated as they sat. The tension in the air was thick, and both sides were rather hesitant. John gave an awkward cough to break the silence.
"A problem? I thought that this is what you did for a living. How can you possibly come across a problem?" Sherlock said getting annoyed. Sam jumped right in and clarified.
"He was cremated, so he has no bones to salt and burn. But there is another way. There is an object that has his saliva or DNA on it. We salt and burn that, and our little ghost problem goes away."
"Let me guess, you know what that object is?" Sherlock was growing more cross by the minute. Little did he know he was about to get taught how to shoot rock salt out of a sawed off shot gun. John started to get the gist of things and jumped into the conversation.
"So we grab the object, burn it and then it's all over right?"
"Right, so let's go get this whole thing over with. Know how to shoot a shot gun?" Dean asked in the most articulate way one can ask about a shot gun. John nodded and Sherlock merely continued to stare. Dean took that as a yes and walked out of the room. Same handed them each a shot gun with rock salt packed buck shots and they went on their merry way.
"Do we get clued in on what this object was?" John asked Sam as they walked. Sherlock took that it meant the ghost wasn't too far from Baker Street and that a taxi wasn't needed. As they walked Sherlock got close to John and whispered in his ear.
"Does this seem mildly ridiculous to you?" John just shrugged as he walked down the darkened street behind the hunters. They walked a ways until they came to a store that had a gloomy feel to it. Closed for the night, Sam pulled out a lock picking set and they picked their way into the building. After they entered the building Sam and Dean stopped and raised their hands up in the air, signally a stop. There was an awkward squishing sound and Dean made a face.
"Son of a bitch…."
"Ectoplasm, but this is all wrong….," Sam replied looking at Dean's shoe. Sherlock took this as an opportunity to collect some data and do some testing on his own later. He grabbed a nearby jar and scooped a bit of the black goo into it and stuffed it back into his pocket. Meanwhile John was getting battle hungry. In truth he did miss the war, and being with Sherlock was always exciting, but he had never fought a ghost before.
"I take it something went wrong judging by the tone of both of your voices…," Sherlock jeered straightening back up. Dean was looking about now, checking the building with his torch very carefully. Sam turned to the two men beside him and let out a hesitant sigh.
"Ectoplasm is a product of very angry ghost, usually horrifically violent and vengeful. This means…"
"You got your facts wrong," John lamented with a deep sigh of disbelieve. Why did these types of things always happen to him? This time it wasn't even Sherlock who did it to him. That almost made it worse.
"Over here!" Dean shouted from the back of the store and the group made a quick hustle to go see what he had found. In the back office on a stack of bookkeeping papers was this foul looking handkerchief. Sherlock let out a groan. He knew exactly what was going on.
"Are all hunters this dimwitted? Don't you idiots get it?" He sat down at the desk and refilled through the papers for a brief second and then pulled one out for everyone to see.
"Though Mr. Blythe has passed on, his dearly beloved is still alive and their son who now runs the family business is embezzling money from her. He's cleared out all family funds so he can send his mistress to Fiji for Christmas," Sherlock concluded. Sam and Dean exchanged looks of wonder and John frowned.
"You can't possibly get a mistress out of that piece of paper."
"I didn't," Sherlock paused as a triumphant look came across John's face. "I gathered that from the picture next to it of the woman and this man, and one has a wedding ring and the other doesn't." John's face fell and he turned away. Then he let out a yelp and the others turned as well. John had found himself nose to nose with the ghost there were here to deal with.
"Shoot it John!" Sam shouted. John remembered then he had a gun in his hand and gave the ghost a quick blast. Sherlock grabbed the proof that there was something shady going on in this business as Dean flicked open his lighter to light the handkerchief up in smoke. But Mr. Blythe had other ideas. He reappeared behind Dean and gave him a good smack causing him to drop the lighter. A stack of papers that Dean had accidently spilt lighter fluid caught in flames with a mighty whooshing sound. Thinking quick John reached over grabbed Dean and the handkerchief and tossed the object in the fire. As the building around them started to go up they saw that the ghost himself was catching on fire. The group made a break for it and jumped through the window that led to a back alley and piled out onto the ground coughing and sputtering. No one said anything for a bit.
"Believe us now?" Sam grinned getting up from the ground and brushing his jeans off. Sherlock sighed. He felt at this point he really didn't have a choice. He had proof, they came through with their part, and now it was his turn to do so.
" Meet at Baker Street tomorrow, say a bit before 11.00?" That was the best that they were going to get out of him. The hunters nodded and left suggesting that they do the same, and keep a clean nose. Dean's words were 'Don't want to get in trouble for arson while trying to solve your wife's murder. That won't look to good.'
"What about Mrs. Blythe? Is she really going to lose all that money?" John asked Sherlock as they began to walk back to Baker Street. Sherlock smiled and pulled the piece of paper from his pocket. John smiled in reply and the two laughed a little.
"I'm mailing it to her in the morning. I'm going to go clear my head a little, but you go on in," Sherlock replied hailing a taxi and driving off. John shook his head and stepped inside Baker Street to get a goodnights rest. After what he had just seen he felt he needed it.