AN: This can't be a Sherlock crossover without some Sherlock, but I am very afraid to write for him. If his OOCness makes you want to die, don't worry. He won't be around for too long. That-that sounded way more ominous than I meant… By the way, forgot to say last chapter. This is set in S6 of Supernatural and post S3 finale of Sherlock.

John couldn't believe it, and Sherlock just really didn't want to. Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?

No, they most certainly did not. John had to fight the urge to punch every screen in London to make the unceasing voice stop. He had already flown through every curse he knew mentally, but perhaps one or two (mainly all of them), had slipped out verbally as well.

"We need to find the original source of the video if we are going to track it." Sherlock's voice was far too calm for comfort.

"How the bloody hell are you so okay with this?" John shouted.

"I never said I was, John, but I would like to clear up this matter before it causes a panic. Panicked Londoners give me headaches. It's rather annoying."

"Annoy-" John's head dropped in disbelief, and an attempt not to raise his voice any more than he already had.

"There is still no evidence whether he is truly alive or not. His network may not have been as well dispersed as I had believed. We need to find out whether it was Moriarty, or just a member of the network trying to create a fuss."

John was still uncomfortable with how normal Sherlock was acting. Well, as normal as Sherlock typically acts. He took a deep breath and stared at the ground. The ground was a lot less frustrating than Sherlock was at the moment. "Alright." John huffed. "We'll try to find the source."

That cocky, victorious grin that only Sherlock could pull off made an appearance. "Excellent. We'll start at wherever they project videos on large screens. Hacking into the phones is a simple enough task, the screens would have been much more difficult. John, find out where we need to look."

"You mean the great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know?"

"It hadn't been a concern of mine until now, so just do as I ask. The game is on, John."

By the time they had found out where to begin their investigation, two men in suits had already beat them to the scene. Perhaps if it hadn't taken him and John so long to get there, they could have gotten there first. Those panicked Londoners Sherlock mentioned were busy fleeing and creating all sorts of traffic. The two men were inquiring one of the workers about the recent events. The questions they were asking were rather… Odd.

"Did you see anything before the video started playing?" The taller one asked. "Like flickering lights, or maybe black smoke?"

The employee was dumbfounded to say the least. "What?"

"Please," the man asked. "Just answer the question."

"W-well, no. No smoke, no lights. Just a weird blackout, and then the video started playing."

"What about smells? Did you smell anything like rotten eggs, or sulfur?"

The worker just stared at them, and turned to the other partner. "Is- is he serious?"

Neither one of their expressions changed.

"No. I didn't smell anything like that."

The two partners shared a knowing glance. The taller one reached out and handed the employee a white card. "Alright, thank you for your help. Give us a call if you can think of anything else."

"Stupid Americans. What are they even doing here?" Just a few minutes earlier, and Sherlock never would have met them. How much simpler things would have been.

Eavesdropping was a very useful skill of Sherlock's and so he put it to good use.

"Okay," The long haired one started, too long to be an FBI agent or anything of the like. They definitely weren't who they had claimed to be. "So, there was sulfur by the window, but the demon must've been pretty quiet since nobody saw anything."

"Demons? Are they serious?" Sherlock asked himself.

The shorter one spoke. "They could've taken the body with them."

"Why would they do that, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, Sammy. No witnesses that way. Okay, so we're sure it's demons, now we just gotta track 'em down."

"They really are insane. Not only do these idiots believe in such creatures, but they believe that they are able to hunt them? Morons."

"Well," the one called Sam said. "If it is Moriarty, or some demons working for him, then they're bound to screw up, and give themselves away soon enough. We just gotta wait for them to make a mistake."

"Alright. Can we get some food then? I'm starving."

"Morons."

"Dean! Do have any idea who that was in there?"

"You mean the weirdo in the stupid coat giving us the eye?"

Sam nodded rather excitedly. "I think that was Sherlock Holmes. We should go talk to him."

Dean groaned. "Why?"

"He's gonna try to work this case. It is his case but-"

"But he'll have no idea what he's stepping in." He sighed, knowing that Sam was right… Again. Damn him. "Fine, let's go talk to cheekbones."

"You often notice other guy's facial features?" Sam grinned like the little brother he was, and chuckled at Dean's annoyed glare.

"Just- get in the car, Sasquatch." As mad as Dean pretended to be at the comment, he couldn't help but inwardly smile at the fact that he had his brother back- his real brother. There was the unsynchronized sound of the Impala's doors squeaking shut, and Dean knew that everything was the way it was supposed to be.

"I can't believe you!" Moran shouted at Moriarty. He had insisted on being called the name of his meatsuit's predecessor. His accented voice did nothing to hide the rage. "You advertised your return?!"

Moriarty shrugged. "I was just saying hello."

"To the whole bloody world! Now you have hunters to worry about!"

"Why should I be afraid of anyone? I am unstoppable now."

Moran scoffed as his demon eyes returned to their normal shade. "You arrogant little prat." He mumbled bitterly. "You don't get it, do you? You've just announced to the whole world that you're still alive, and you didn't think that was going to attract attention? Wrong! I've gotten word that the Winchesters are here because of you!"

Moriarty rolled his eyes in boredom. Boredom always was the problem, wasn't it? "Is that name supposed to scare me?"

Moran's expression alone would have been warning enough. "Yes, it should. They may seem like nothing but a couple of self-righteous punk-asses, but even you can't imagine what kind of pains they really are."

"So end them." It was said as thought it could be the simplest thing.

"Come again?"

Even before he was a demon, Moriarty had mastered the evil smirk. "End. Them."

There was a moment of silence before Moran began laughing in doubt. "You- you think you can kill the Winchesters?"

Moriarty's smile widened. "Easily."

Moran raised an eyebrow, but an eager grin slid onto his face. "I'd love nothing more than to tear out their beating hearts myself, but, unfortunately, I can't do so. At least not on my own. You can help me end them both, slow, and bloody."

Both demons wore the same eager expression. "So," Moriarty said excitedly. "Tell me about the Winchesters."

221B Baker Street did not really appear to be the home of a genius. More like a drug dealer's… Maybe. There were bullet holes in the wall, and an awkward, semi-disturbing smile face spray painted into the very strange wallpaper.

A woman, Mrs. Hudson she had so kindly introduced herself to the Winchesters, answered the door for them. She seemed to know what they were doing there and graciously let them into Sherlock's apartment… Er- flat. She was quite nice to the boys and appeared to have a lot of patience, a quality that was probably necessary when you're with Sherlock Holmes.

Speaking of Sherlock, the Winchester's heard the door to the apartment swing open. They both stood up in anticipation to meet him, although they figured he would get on their nerves soon enough.

Dean was the first to speak. "Hi, Mr. Holmes, we're-"

"Not who you were pretending to be earlier today." Sherlock had cut him off with his deduction that he managed to do in one breath. "I can tell by the cheap suits you're wearing that you're clearly trying to spend a minimal amount of money, which leads me to believe that you get by without a regular income. You both have the eyes of soldiers, but you've never fought in a war, so you must be in a dangerous line of work. From the way you were talking earlier I can tell that you two are brothers, and that you believe in ridiculous things such as demons and God knows what else. Have I missed anything?"

"What a dick." Dean thought.

Sam, however, was rather impressed. "Well, we don't just believe in that stuff. That 'dangerous line of work', we fight it. We're hunters."

Sherlock didn't seem too excited by that, quite bored, in fact. "Not your typical hunters though. You do appear to be harboring many battle scars though."

"Yeah," Dean remarked snidely. He hasn't expected Sherlock to be such an ass so soon into their meeting him. "Sometimes when you fight evil, it tends to fight back. Now that that's out of the way, can you shut up and listen to us?"

"Dean."

"What? He's annoying."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I've been called worse. And if you want me to listen to you, then answer this. Why were you asking about sulfur?" As crazy as he had first found them to be, there did end up being sulfur at the crime scene, and he was curious as to its significance.

Sam answered this time. "Sulfur, it means there was a demon nearby. That's why we're here. Hunting demons and stuff like that is what we do. We have reason to believe that this, Moriarty, is our kind of thing."

"And why should I believe to you?" Sherlock retorted.

"Because, smart guy," Dean answered back. "If you don't, you're gonna get yourself into something bigger than you could ever understand. You think you can tell when people lie? Look me in the eyes, and tell me that I'm lying to you."

Sherlock did have to admit that Sam and Dean did not appear to be lying, but that didn't mean that they weren't insane.

"Look," Sam stepped in. "We know how crazy all this sounds, and we're not asking you to forget about Moriarty, but just give us some time for us to do what we do best. Once we're done, whatever that might mean, you won't have to think about us, or anything we said ever again."

There was something much more genuine and kind in Sam's nature, as opposed to Dean's. He was rational, a quality madmen didn't often possess. "I suppose I could put a small delay in my investigations, but to keep up appearances, I will have to act otherwise. I will give you a week."

Sam gave Sherlock a sincere smile. "Thank you."

"Here." Dean was apparently less grateful, shoving a while card in Sherlock's hands. "Call us if you hear anything, or we might call you when this is all over. Or if it ends up being your type of thing."

Deep down, Dean knew it was, but he hated knowing it.

So, the boys are on the case, and Sherlock is off. Sorry if you wanted to see Sherlock slaying some demons (because how FREAKING awesome would that be?!) but I don't see that happening in this story. The sequel however… (Kidding.) Anywho, let me know what you guys think so far! I truly hope I'm living up to expectations.

Sneak peek from next chapter! "Heroes, how he abhors them so. Although, Moriarty was rather excited to… acquaint himself with these ones."