5: Whatever Remains…

John Watson was at a loss. Sherlock was quickly spiraling into a state of insanity, sometimes completely catatonic, not seeming to notice the world around him at all, and other times overly energetic and reckless, in a state of manic frenzy as he paced very quickly, rambling to anyone and no one about something he might have missed. Sometimes he even went to the kitchen or to his microscope to perform an experiment, following some sort of new possible lead; but always he fell back into his dead, staring silence again. Over time, the silences began to stretch longer, until finally by day three John didn't hear or witness a single one of the energetic spurts. It hardly mattered, of course. Sherlock didn't seem to hear him or see him no matter which state he was in these days. But, though far from a psychologist, John knew that the increasing levels of silence could not be good. And the poor doctor was at a complete and utter loss for what to do about it.

In some ways, he felt a strange obligation to "fill in" for his indisposed friend, or so to speak, however, there was a reason Sherlock was the detective and he was the sidekick. John was very aware of the role he'd taken on in the situation since the day he'd moved in with Sherlock Holmes, and he took pride in it. After all, if there was one thing Sherlock often needed, it was a good sharp kick in the side. However, currently that did not seem to be working, and John was left to ponder the events that had led to Sherlock's mental decline alone, despite his admitted lack for Sherlock's special abilities.

How could someone really kill someone else by severing a vein without leaving a scratch on the body? Who could have pulled off such a feat? Why? Well Sherlock seemed to have figured out that part at least. The crime ring seemed like an extremely plausible and likely conclusion.

Of course it is, I thought of it.

John shook his head fiercely. The last thing he needed were the echoes of Sherlock's voice in his head to remind him just how absent the detective actually was.

But could there be more to the why than simply what Sherlock had deduced so far about it?

Thoughts like these continued to plague John's mind as he tried to go about normal tasks, going to the store again because he'd forgotten to buy bread, taking the tube back to 221b, saying hello to Mrs. Hudson on the way upstairs, passing Sherlock (who did not acknowledge him) in the front room, putting away some folded laundry…

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth…

The random phrase came floating back through his mind as he straightened out a pair of trousers. This time he did not dismiss the detective's voice so quickly. It was something he'd said a few months ago, when they were on the case in Dartmoor. Whatever remains…

John paused, his brain suddenly whirring with activity. It wasn't possible. Molly had said so, Sherlock seemed to think so, Lestrade too… so what if it wasn't possible? What if the answer was something else entirely? Sherlock would never think to entertain such ideas that were too far out of his realm of logical thought, but maybe it was time someone else did. Maybe it was time to start looking into the impossible.

His laptop was still sitting out in the front room, but he took it back into his bedroom just in case. Not that it seemed to matter to Sherlock in his present state, but John still couldn't shake the thought of what he knew Sherlock's reaction would be to the research John was about to conduct were he not so… unwell. He made sure the door was shut tight before he began conducting his search.

John's fingers paused hovering uncertainly above the keys the moment he'd opened his laptop. What did he even begin the search with? Where did one start when looking for the impossible? He finally settled on typing in 'strange injuries.' The search engine pulled up quite a few cases of bizarre instances in which fatalities hadn't been able to be explained satisfactorily. People who'd been brutally hacked to death in completely sealed rooms with the doors still locked. People who'd died of internal bleeding that had been so bad that their eyes had exploded. Many cases where the doctors had been able to fabricate some sort of answer, though John knew they were lying because he was also a doctor. There were entire forums of family members and friends that were still looking for answers, dissatisfied with those that they'd been given.

The doctor said it was a bear attack but I'm not so sure… bears don't just do that to people for no reason…

I know they said it was a heart attack but I was there. That's definitely not what it looked like…

I think my brother was killed by a ghost…

John paused after reading that last line, his heart missing a beat. Ghosts. He knew he was looking for the impossible, but… ghosts? Although he sometimes leaned slightly more to the spiritual side of things than his roommate, he still considered himself much too rational of a thinker to fall prey to such outrageous notions. He paused in his search and put his head in his hands, massaging his temples in frustration.

"You know what? Fine. Fine," he said aloud finally looking back up at the screen in indignant defeat. "Ghosts it is."

The next thing he typed, feeling absolutely ridiculous as he did so, was 'ghost attacks,' and the first website that popped up under this search was a link to a page from a group that claimed to be paranormal investigators from America. The page was titled, 'How to Survive a Ghost Attack." John clicked play on the video, and two 30-something men who looked rather silly, in John's opinion, began to speak.

"Okay so there is no surefire way to survive a ghost attack," said the one with the beard and glasses. His scrawny friend quickly added, "Sorry if the title of the video was misleading, I told Ed not to name it that but he wouldn't listen."

"Shut up Harry. Anyway, it's hard to survive a ghost attack, but there are a lot of ways to help prevent one. Now, if you've seen our other video, 'How to Survive a Demon Attack,' you'll know about salt. Salt is a pure substance, meaning evil spirits can't pass through it. That rule applies to demons, and it also, most certainly, applies to ghosts."

Here John paused the video, going to the group's main page and opting for another video titled 'Ghosts: the basics." He noted that the group called themselves the 'Ghostfacers,' though he still couldn't help but doubt their legitimacy. They didn't seem to be affiliated with any kind of official institution, but John reasoned that if an official institution decided to affiliate itself with the sort of organization that called themselves 'Ghostfacers' they would probably face a great deal of flak from outside sources. Anything John looked up was not going to be officially credited, and therefore John knew it was up to him to have to sort through the rubbish.

Nothing the Ghostfacers were saying about ghosts seemed to fit with the case he and Sherlock were trying to solve, so he began to click on some other videos: 'Werewolves: the Basics,' "Vampires: the Basics,' wendigos, daevas, witches… none of it seemed to fit. Finally, he got to the tutorial on demons and paused, listening closely.

"Now Ed and I still don't know about everything demons can do. They seem to be a sort of anomaly, and we haven't run into a whole lot of him. Those douchebag Winchesters though seem to have come across them more than we have…"

Here, Ed and Harry exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes at each other. John leaned forward. They'd mentioned these 'douchebag Winchester brothers' in a few previous videos but had never elaborated further.

"… and they say they still don't even have a much better idea about everything they can do. They say they've seen demons lift people up without touching them and throw them against walls. They can make things happen through their weirdo invisible powers that come from some most likely hellish source."

Ed nudged Harry here, whispering something in his ear. Harry rolled his eyes again looking ruffled, but nodded for Ed to speak.

"Since our knowledge on demons is so limited, we think it's better for you to just call the Winchesters if you have any further questions. The number they take cases on should flash across the bottom of the screen now. So good luck and happy hunting!"

John paused the video and scribbled down the number quickly, then pulled out his phone. Here he stopped staring from the piece of paper to his phone and back again. He didn't like the feeling that he was now opening a door he might not be able to close again once he dialed the number. But then he thought of the dead man in the morgue and Greg and Molly's confused faces and Sherlock's eerie silence… Before he could think twice again, he'd dialed the number and put the phone to his ear.

It rang…

"Hello?" a rough voice on the other side of the line asked.

"Hello," John said, working hard to keep his voice steady. "Is this one of the Winchesters?"

"The very same. But we're kind of in the middle of something, is this an emergency?"

"Actually yes. My name is John Watson, and I think someone has been killed by a demon."