Note: This story will have no spoilers for Supernatural, and no spoilers for Sherlock. Pinky promise. So it really doesn't matter which season it's in, but in my mind it is in season 5ish for Supernatural and Pre Sherlocks great fall, but this is just a job for our favourite Whinchesters, so no apocalyps here! .

Disclaimer: I neither own Supernatural and Sherlock, but hey, if you want to sell them Email me.

For the readers of 'Everything is going to be fine' That story willl be finished! it won't be abandoned, but I had to take a long break, I had a rough year in school but I am going to finish it! Promise! It only may take some time :)

I have a Beta reader but English it not my first language, and I am dyslectic, so it could be very possible you encounter some spelling errors!

Beta Reader: FluffyToaster

And now, here we go!

-o-o-o-= Skip between places

-~o0o~- = skip between characters who are in different places.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Gore

'So, why are we in London again?'

Sam sighed again.

'Dean, it's the least we can do for Bobby, especially after he helped us with that vampire nest a few months ago.'

Dean slumped his shoulders. Ofcourse he didn't mind helping Bobby, but why London? His last thought he said outloud.

'And I mean, it's not that I don't like Downtown Abby or something, But why couldn't he just send us somewhere nice and sunny? Maybe to a haunted beach house in California? Why did we end up being the ones who he send to London?'

This time Sam stopped walking and halted Dean in the process. After a quick look around he saw that nobody on the busy street was close enough to hear his hushed voice.

'Look, Bobby lost contact with another hunter he knew here. He said that the guy went to London to do some research and that is the last thing he heard from him. So he wants us to look if we can find some information on him.

Dean pulled a face.

'Fine, but what are the other British hunters doing, eh? Hunting Leprechauns?'

Sam slightly cocked his head and then shook it.

'You're actually impossible.'

He turned away and started walking. It looked like it would rain soon (When didn't it in London?) and they were making their way back to the motel after grabbing a quick lunch. Ever since they had come off the plane (he had slept the 8 hours, Dean, however, hadn't) Dean hadn't stopped complaining. First it was the weather, next it was the food, after that it was the scenery and now he seemed to be all out of subjects to complain about, he must have come to the conclusion that he actually didn't need a subject to moan about, but that he just could whine about everything that would come up.

Dean had to quicken his pace to not fall behind his brother.

'Okay fine! But how are you planning on finding someone in London? I mean, this city is overflowing with people! It's like looking for a needle in a pile of fish-eating stifflips!'

Sam glanced at his brother, Dean had a point. London was one of the biggest cities in Europe. To find a person here without a clue where to find him would be tricky, to find a hunter who was probably hiding would be impossible. But they did have a clue.

'Bobby said that we should look for a guy named Kevin Thompson, we can recognise him by a snake tattoo on his neck.'

Dean chuckled.

'Classy.'

'Yeah, Bobby also said that Kevin would be checking the London archives. That's the last he heard from him. And that was almost a month ago.'

'And tell me again why-'

Sam interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

'Dean, stop, please.'

This time it was Deans who sighed.

'Fine.'

They walked in silence for a while when Sam said.

'Dean?'

'Yeah?'

'Leprechauns are Irish, not British.'

-~o0o~-

Sherlock was bored.

John was out getting groceries. He had hid his gun, and hadn't hidden it in the normal hiding spots so if he wanted to find it he had to turn the apartment upside down, and Sherlock wasn't sure if John would appreciate that. The fingernails that were lying in acid for his research 'effect of acid on different parts of the body' still had to lay for at least two hours before he could look at the results. John had broken his violin's bow when he had accidentally sat on it, blaming him for not putting it away properly. Obviously it hadn't been his fault. As John clearly could have seen the place where his violin normally stood had been occupied by a skeleton on a stand. How he had aquired said skeleton is a different story. But as the standerd spot wasn't an option the next best thing was of course John's chair. There wasn't anything on it and the cushions would protect his violin and bow from any humidity on the floor and Sherlock would be sure that he wouldn't accidentally step on it. Ofcourse he would never step on something that laid on the floor, but in his head it was very likely that a murderer would come crashing into his apartment and step on his violin, and that of course would be tragic. However he hadn't thought that John wouldn't look before sitting down. And thus had John broken his bow and now Sherlock was left with nothing to do.

He hoped that someone would get murdered already.

John was heading back to his apartment. The shopping had been uneventful, luckily. He hadn't seen any shady types around (now he was with Sherlock shady types seemed to spontaneously sprout from the ground) and nobody had tried to rob the grocery store while he was there, so that was nice. John didn't know what it was but since he met Sherlock he just seemed to attract danger. Wait, he knew what it was. Sherlock was the reason. Not that he minded though. He had made the decision to stay with Sherlock long ago.

John had arrived home, he set down the plastic grocerie bags and started searching for his keys. after a few seconds he found them in his left pocket and picking the bags up again he started twisting the doorknob when suddenly it slammed open and Sherlock came running through, still putting on his trenchcoat.

'John! Glad you're here, are you coming?'

'Wha-'

'No time to talk, finally somebody has been murdered! Now are you coming or what?'

'Sherlock, I have groceries, before we can go they have to be pu-'

Before John could finish his sentence Sherlock had grabbed the light plastic bags and tossed them carelessly into the hallway, closed the door and twisted the key.

'Are you coming?'

John let out a sigh.

'Fine, where are we going?'

20 minutes later a taxi halted next to an abandoned industrial site. The police were already swarming the place and had started putting up the yellow police tape around the crime scene and setting up large lamps to light up the area. John noticed Lestrade and Donovan standing in the middle of all the hecticness. Without wavering Sherlock marched to the two and John followed closely behind. One police officer stepped forward to stop them but Sherlock spoke first.

'Do we have to this little dance everytime?' he said.

'Sir, it's most important tha-'

'I identify myself?' Sherlock answered to the officer.'Yes, ofcourse, oh, and when you are going to get your eyes checked I advise that you too let the doctors look at your back. It seems to be bothering you and it wouldn't be wise to let it distract you, right? I mean, you have more pressing matters to worry about. Tell me, are you sleeping with your wife or girlfriend tonight?'

The man's cheecks turned red and while he avoided Sherlocks blank stare he started to mutter.

'I, uh, I ehh, I'm not sure wha-'

Sherlock, apparently done with his little act ignored the stuttering and strode past the man, without giving him a second look.

John shot the still baffled officer an apologetic look and started after his friend.

Sherlock was already looking at the mangled mess on the ground. The stench was overwhelming.

Lestrade was covering his nose and talking to Sherlock.

'...found him like this, I asked the owner why the body hadn't been discoverd sooner but he said that he had nobody checking the grounds, and he himself had been on a business trip. And seeing how the fella looks I thought this was something you wanted to take a look at.'

Sherlock put on some sterile gloves and crouched down. He shot John a look and said.

'Give me five minutes.'

'Five? That's two more minutes than normal. Is your freak sense not working tonight?

Sherlock ignored Donovan, to busy examining the body. She eyed him suspiciously but decided to not pester him any further, and that had probably been a very wise decision. Judging from Sherlock's earlier outburst he didn't want anything messing with him or his precious murder case.

Knowing that he couldn't delay it any longer John looked down to the body, and immediately regretted it.

Living with Sherlock and working with him, John had seen many mangled corpses. But none of them had been as mauled as this one. His stomach was torn open and a few unidentified organs had spilled saw wide gashes on his limbs. The bodies neck was mostly gone and so was a big part of his shoulder. John could barely make out the snake tattoo on his neck. Four deep cuts marked the victims face and had destroyed the left part, eye, nose, and ear, exposing his skull.

And if that hadn't been enough the corpse also was in the late decomposition stage.

John averted his eyes, not wanting to look anymore. He had seen much in his life, but this was very close to crossing his borders.

He realised now why Sherlock had needed those two more minutes. To make sense of this mess was not an easy job, not even for Sherlock.

The man he was just thinking about stood up and took off his now bloodied gloves. He turned away and and motioned to John and Lestrade to follow. Donovan, although not invited, followed cautiously. While Sherlock walked he quickly searched something on his phone, but John couldn't make out what it was.

Getting to the edge of the crime scene Sherlock took a deep breath, and John realised why Sherlock had walked away, he just wanted some fresh air.

'So, what about him? What do you know?' Lestrade asked.

Sherlock cocked his head slightly and squinted his eyes for a second, finishing up his conclusion before releasing a wave of information.

'The body belongs to Kevin Thompson, or atleast, if that is his real name. He died five days ago and he is an American man, between 40 and 42. In his wallet there were a couple of fake id's and more, the ID's we're proffecially done, thus this wasn't the first time he walked around with fake ID's, he wasn't in Britain just for a visit, he was in some crime organistion or he was fleeing something, maybe the thing that wanted him dead. He doesn't have any known gang tattoo's but has a pentagram and religous related tattoo's on his body, although I am not able to identify all of them, but give me some time and I will. He also has a snake tattoo on his neck so that would probably be the biggest lead you have on his true identity. He believed in something, probably the Christian god, but he wasn't a believer as we know it. He doesn't carry the Christian cross but he does carry other lesser known Christian symbols on his body, like the tattoo's He smoked much and drank too, although he wasn't an alcoholic. He probably wanted to distract himself from something but didn't dare to go all the way. He carries a selected set of weapons, one gun and a few knifes. He knows how to use them and was expecting to use them the night he died. He died fighting, not with his favourite weapon, that was the knife strapped to his chest. Whatever attacked him did it infront of him, still it suprised him. He died because of, well, missing his throat. After his death the attacker mauled his body until it got bored and left.'

There was a silence, only the hushed voices of the other police men could be heared along with the distant sounds of the city and sirens of nearing police cars. Then Lestrade started to speak.

'That's all you know? Do you maybe know the murder weapon too?'

Sherlock laughed a humorless smile.

'Well, probably something sharp.'

Lestrade slowly nodded.

'Have you any idea who might have want to do this?'

'I have some theories, but those are not worth sharing for they aren't anymore than theories.'

Lestrade nodded again. Sensing that the consultant detective wasn't saying anything, but he also knew that trying to argue with Sherlock wasn't going to work out. He had enough experience.

'Well, when you think your theories are worth sharing give us a call.'

After recieving a small nod from Sherlock he turned and walked back to the corpse, where now some forensics where trying to fit it in a body bag. Maybe the struggling men would have been a funny sight, if the thing they were struggling with was a dummy and not a nearly desecrated corpse.

Back in the taxi, John looked at Sherlock. Something was off. When talking to Lestrade John too had noticed that Sherlock hadn't told the detective the whole truth. It was rare that Sherlock didn't trust the cops with information. He adjusted his position a little, so he was able to look directly at Sherlock without having to turn his head for a long period of time.

'So, what aren't you telling?'

Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts and quickly turned to John, but he avoided eye contact.

'What do you mean?'

'Sherlock, you can fool the police, even Lestrade maybe, but you can't fool me. You know the most things about murders and you couldn't even name a murder weapon?'

'I did give a murder weapon.'

'Something sharp doesn't suffice.'

Sherlock didn't answer and still wouldn't meet Johns eyes but rather inspected the dirty taxi window besides John's head.

'Why are you hiding this? You know you can trust me, I have seen you solve every case and now you won't tell me anything? You know what, I think you know who did it.'

'What.' Sherlock said softly, almost if he was talking to himself instead of John.

John squinted slightly, rather confused.

'What?'

'Whatever killed that man wasn't a who, it was a what.'

John slowly shook his head and sighed.

'Sherlock, you don't make any sense.'

Suddenly Sherlock raised his head, and looked John dead in the eye.

'Whatever killed that man wasn't human, John.'

TBC

Hate it? Love it? Don't really care about it? Characters are ooc? Let me know! I'm trying to improve my writing skills, and I think Sherlock is a really tricky character to write, so if you have any feedback I would love to hear it! Or read it, whatever :3

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This story will be updated atleas once a week. And if that changes I will let you know in my profile or in the summary!

Till next time and have a nice day!