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Nothing Is As It Seems

Chapter Text

“Someone will die, someone will survive
The angel will fall when the devil rises

A sacrifice will be made

The truth will be told but a lie will destroy the trust
The journey will begin and the hunt will never end

Love will change the meaning of things

The universe will be in danger when the fire burns the shadow
The drums will be silenced”

But most important:
Nothing is as it seems


He walked down the corridor, his eyes searching for the milk. Milk, again.

Sometimes John wondered where the hell all the milk ended up.

He never saw Sherlock drinking milk, neither did he use it for his experiments, so maybe it disappeared on its own in order to tease John. Of course there was no sense behind that since milk was unable to disappear on its own.

John sighed as he walked along the row of shelves. The market was full of people, as if now was the best and only time to go shopping for whatever you needed.

Mothers with noisy children, men and women with baskets and carts full of groceries. A small child ran past John, the small arms thrown up in the air. "Chocolate, chocolate!"

The child was all eager, the small eyes gleaming as it ran past the corner and John had to think of Sherlock, who was as eager about murder and crimes as this child about chocolate.

"Go and get some milk, John." Sherlock had said while lying on the couch, his hands pressed together in front of his chest; his thinking posture. "I can't think when you're around, you're too noisy, so if you wouldn't mind-"

John rolled his eyes and shook his head; sometimes it was really difficult to live in the same flat as Sherlock Holmes. Most of time John didn't mind the detective's behavior, but sometimes it was tiring. It was like dealing with child, a really stubborn child. Oh well..

"Are you serious? This shit ain't gonna last two days!"

John raised his eyebrows as he heard the american accent floating over the rows of the store.

"I know man, but it is better than nothing." The voice was hushed, clearly trying to get less attention. John didn't mean to listen, it just happened. "We still have enough salt in the trunk."

"Yeah, guess you're right..." The deeper voice trailed off. "You think they have any good pie in here? I would die for a piece." A sigh was to be heard, and John was almost sure he could see the other person shaking its head. "We had breakfast two hours ago!"

A growl was to be heard, and John carefully rounded the corner. He wasn't even sure why he was so tense; maybe because of all the things he had seen and heard while being around Sherlock and all the crimes? If John Watson knew one thing for sure then it was that you could never be too careful...

Two men stood next to the shelf with the salt. One of them was really tall, at least one and a half head taller than John, if not even two heads, and John was sure he was even taller than Sherlock, and Sherlock wasn't small. The man had long brown hair and kind eyes, but something about him seemed dark. John wasn't sure what it was, but it was as if this man had endured more than other men, more than even John, the army doctor.

Next to him stood a smaller man with short hair, which had the color of dirty blonde. He wore a dark brown leather jacket which looked rather old, and his eyes were soft with the color of green, or maybe hazel. John noticed that he had freckles.

Both of their heads turned to John as he walked around the corner.

For a several seconds they just stood there,looking at each other, neither saying a word. John's eyes wandered to the basket in the arms of the long haired man and he noticed that there was a lot of salt in that basket, not just a few packets but almost the whole stock.

"Hey buddy, searching for something?" The green eyed man asked, sounding wary. His voice was rough and friendly but his body was tense as if he was ready to jump at John - if necessary. The long haired gave his partner a small glance"Dean...." Then he turned to John. "Sorry, my brother." John was sure he would wave his hand if he could, but at the moment he seemed busy with holding the basket in both of his hands.

"I was just passing by." John explained. Not that he needed to explain anything, but he felt like saying something. "Milk." He lifted his basket to show that he was, as well, shopping here.

Somehow this seemed to calm the green eyed, Dean, who even smiled at John. "Milk's over there." He nodded with his head to his left.

John smiled as well "I think I know where to find the milk, but thank you."

The taller one chuckled, clearly amused, and Dean looked startled for one moment until he seemed to realize that John must be living somewhere nearby, which meant he had to know this store and where to find the milk. "Oh yeah, sorry man." Dean gave his brother an angry glance, then he turned around, muttering something to himself.

John was sure the conversation was over now, but Dean raised his voice once more. "You know where to find good pie?"

John furrowed his brow. Well, surely not here since this was only a normal supermarket. "Down the street is a bakery." He informed them.

The long haired brother nodded thankfully while Dean was busy with something else. "Thank you, we'll take a look."

That was it. John would have never thought he would see them again.

But he would.

The Impala stood out, and John had no other choice but noticing the car as he went out of the store. It was chilly outside, a bit rainy, but that was nothing new.

The car was black and shiny, looking like a fresh new car.

John raised his eyebrows as he crossed the street, his eyes on the car. Someone had to love this car more than anything.

There was a person inside, a man, John noticed him as he walked past the car to get on the sidewalk. The man was pale and had circles under his eyes, his dark brown hair almost black in the dim light of the afternoon.

He was asleep, or at least he had his eyes closed, a beige colored blanket covering him up to his chin. It wasn't a blanket, John noticed as he took a closer look; it was a trench coat.

John really didn't mean to be rude, and of course he never intended to stare, but the man seemed to have noticed him because suddenly the eyes flew open.

They were blue, so blue that John took a step backwards.

Sherlock's eyes had had the same effect on him, as he had seen them for the first time.  Even now John was amazed by Sherlock's eyes, because they never seemed to have the same color; sometimes they were blueish, sometimes they were grayish, and sometimes even greenish.

Those eyes of the man in the car were different; they seemed to glow with something that John couldn't describe, something unnatural,something not human.  John was stunned by his own thoughts, and the man behind the window glass fixed him with those blue eyes as if he knew something that John didn't.

John wasn't afraid, no, but he knew that something was not right.

He should move. Sherlock was waiting, or so John told himself. Sherlock was probably busy with deducing, milk or John was nothing he was waiting for. Probably.

John took a deep breath as he turned around.

He could feel the eyes of the man on his back, following him until he turned around the corner of the street.

John was not sure why his heart was racing, but something told him that something was wrong. Wrong in a bad or a good way, he wasn't sure.

He was deep in thoughts, and so he didn't notice the running man until someone bumped into him. John stumbled, nearly loosing his footing, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Oh, I am so sorry."

John turned his head, not sure if he should be angry or not.

The man was running again, skinny legs carrying him down the street. John didn't see much more of the man, only a shock of wild brown hair and a brown coat.

The voice had sounded panic-struck, breathless, and John asked himself if the man was followed by anyone, or if he tried to catch someone.

Whatever it was ,it was none of his business.

My life, John Watson told himself with a stern voice, is chaotic enough.

So he forgot the stranger, all of them, pushed them aside and thought of Sherlock and their case.

Oh,but there was more chaos to come,...

Not only for John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

Not only for Dean and Sam Winchester and Castiel.

Not only for the man known as the Doctor.

Watch the shadows
Hunt the demons
Pray for forgiveness
Let go of what has already been lost