Chapter 6

Murder

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"A murder, how exciting!" Sherlock yelled, putting his phone in his pocket.

Prime time, Hyde Park.

(Y/n) texted Sam and Dean. This was her third day staying at Sherlock's, her sixth in London. She had been sleeping more, tea seemed to have that effect on her.

John and (Y/n) grabbed jackets, with the weather being 50F and cloudy, with a storm passing through nearly every other day. Sherlock grabbed his trench coat and scarf. No matter the weather he could be found in that.

They left 221B and hailed a taxi to the crime scene. (Y/n) was itching with excitement, hopefully they would be able to get some information from this. The cab suddenly swerved to the right, the driver swearing under his breath.

"Darn tourists, need to learn to drive on the left side of the road."

A few seconds after Sherlock, John and (Y/n) arrived, Sam and Dean pulled up in the Impala. Dean tossed (Y/n)'s fake FBI badge to her. The three of them weren't in their monkey suits, instead in their famous flannels, but it would have to do.

(Y/n) flashed her badge at one of the officers, ducking under the police tape surrounding the scene.

"2 women, mid to late thirties. The one on the left was the killer, blood splatters on her hand, knife in her stomach. Murder-Suicide." She observed.

"The victim, on her way to work, unmarried, her job was professional. She was walking and attacked, killed by a stab in the heart. The killer then stabbed herself in the stomach," Sherlock finished.

"Witnesses saw the killer with black eyes, which are now green, and smoke came from her mouth after she stabbed herself." Lestrade added.

"Drugs," John suggested, subtly winking at the group. (Y/n)'s gaze traveled around the scene. Everything around her froze, her breathing stopping.

"Agent Ford, A-Agent Hamill," She gritted out.

Sam and Dean turned to her, she pointed a shaking hand towards a statue, crying blood. The crimson liquid was slowly dripping down its carved face.

"This isn't a small demons omen," she whispered.

"Son of a..." Sam mumbled.

"Do you have any ideas agents?" Lestrade asked.

"We'll need to see who it is," Dean recovered from his shock first.

"Please send Mr. Holmes the details, we'll discuss it with him," (Y/n) shook her head, turning away from the statue.

Lestrade nodded, giving the 'agents' a tight smile. He turned back to his partner, Donovan, and they began to discuss possible motives.

"She slept with Anderson," (Y/n) told her brothers, picking up on the fact that the two were wearing the same deodorant.

Dean snorted, turning away from the two. Sam held back his laughter, shaking his head.

"We should head to Baker Street," Sam let out a chuckled.

"Yeah," (Y/n) nodded.

(Y/n) jogged to the Impala, quickly opening the passenger side door. Dean got in soon after her, sam begrudgingly getting in the back.

"Good to see you've gotten the hang of driving on the left side of the road," (Y/n) complimented as Dean pulled out of the park smoothly.

"He almost crashed into a taxi driving here," Sam laughed.

Realization dawned over (Y/n), who else would be heading in the same direction as her, Sherlock, and John, and didn't know what side of the road to drive on.

"That was my cab Dean, you almost killed me!"

"Cas would bring you back," He scoffed, searching for a parking spot near 221B.

"Oh please, he doesn't love me like he loves you," (Y/n) smirked. She had deduced years ago that Dean was bisexual, her deduction proven even more so when Cas came along.

Deans stayed silent, knowing very well  that (Y/n) would know if he was lying. He found an empty parking spot and parked the Impala. The three got out of the car. It was a quick walk to 221B.

"Sherlock isn't here yet," Sam sighed after knocking twice with no answer.

"I can ask the landlady for a key," Dean volunteered. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, pulling a small, average looking key out of her back pocket.

"Here," she moved Sam out of the way and unlocked the door, putting the key in her pocket once again.

"He gave you a key?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Well I'm practically living here," (Y/n) shrugged, "John made a copy for me, Sherlock just agreed."

They entered John and Sherlock's - and what was slowly becoming (Y/n)'s - flat, the boys sat themselves down on the couch, knowing to avoid Sherlock's chair. It was common knowledge bad things were going to happen to the person who sat in Sherlock's chair that wasn't Sherlock.

"Want something to eat that isn't fast food boys?" (Y/n) asked, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

She had been moving Sherlock's experiments, and didn't have to worry about finding a human head anymore. Mrs. Hudson had a mini fridge that she had asked if one of them would have use for. (Y/n) jumped at the chance, wanting a fridge without human body parts in it. Now, all of Sherlock's experiments that needed to be refrigerated were in the mini fridge, and anything that was in the cupboards were in the two farthest cupboards.

"Any pie in there?" Dean asked, (Y/n) chuckled, scanning over the little food  in the fridge.

"Nope, Mrs. Hudson makes a mean pie I've heard, you'll have to ask her about that." She closed the fridge, grabbing a glass of water. Tea was tempting, but she always fell asleep after she drank it, whether it was the cream she put in it, or if it was like having warm milk before bed, it made her sleepy.

"Did you see the statue at the crime scene?" Sherlock questioned, opening the door and taking his coat off, John was trailing behind him. "The idiots were too dull to see it, but you d, correct."

"We did," Sam nodded, "It really isn't a good sign."

"What does it mean?" John asked.

"It's a demonic omen," (Y/n) explained, "For a very high up demon, Alastair, the main torturer for Hell. if he's here, then this whole thing is bigger than we thought."

"The demon stabbed themselves then left the girl's body, meaning that there are still demons here. Alastair one of them, who knows, with Lucifer free, this could be more of the apocalypse." Dean sighed.

"The apocalypse, perfect," John threw his hands up in exasperation.

"The end of the world," Sherlock said calmly, sitting down in his chair, "Because Lucifer was freed?"

"That's what we were told by Cas, but nothing has really happened," Sam lit up, turning to Dean, "We should call him, see if he knows what's going on."

"Who's 'Cas'?"

"An Angel."

"Dean's boyfriend."

Sam and (Y/n) shared a comical look, turning to Dean who shrugged, slightly sheepish.

"Both are true I guess..."

"Then go ahead Dean, call you boyfriend," (Y/n) prompted. Dean glared at his youngest sibling.

"Cas!" He called, as if Castiel was in 221B already.

"Yes Dean," Cas appeared in the middle of the living, John jumped, putting a hand over his heart. Sherlock looked over Cas, deducing him, although he would really be deducing Jimmy Novak.

"That isn't your true form," is all Sherlock said.

"My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler Building." Cas simply stated, turning to Sherlock, "Hello, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson."

"He knows our name," John mumbled, "An Angel knows our name."

"We have been watching you two," Cas confirmed, "Your work has brought yourselves attention."

"Cas, there are demons in London." Sam interrupted their talk, "Alastair is here, and we need your help with this."

"I will see what information I can find," Cas nodded, "There is something larger going on here. No demon has ever done something this big in London."

"Great, good luck Cas," Dean smiled, Cas gave a small smile back. Sam and I shared an all too familiar look, the look of silent happiness. Dean was happy with Cas, and we were happy that Dean was happy, and that Cas 'Gripped Dean tight and pulled him from perdition.'

"Good luck to you Winchester, Sherlock, and John." And just like that, Cas had disappeared.

"I just talked to an Angel," John mumbled in disbelief.

"I could only deduce what wasn't his real body," Sherlock sighed in disappointment.

"Trust me," Sam leaned forward on the couch, "You don't want to see his real form."