SuperWhoLock: The Last Aztec

Chapter 1: Not FBI

"Sherlock, there's someone at the door!" Mrs. Hudson called out. Sherlock ignored her. It was probably just another client. If they were truly worth his time, then he wouldn't have to answer the door--they'd come to him.

"Sherlock, they're federal agents! From America!" America? Interesting. Sherlock slid off the couch, smoothly making his way downstairs to see his visitors.

The shorter one spoke first as he and his partner presented their badges at the door. "Sherlock Holmes? I'm Agent Angus, this is Agent Young. We're here from America to follow up on a case--"

"No you're not," Sherlock said, narrowing his eyes at the pair.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson cried. The detective, however, was intent on the strangers at his door. The one who spoke had a look of confusion on his face. He shifted a shoulder--obviously uncomfortable in a suit. His partner was several inches taller than him but non-dominant. He looked to the other Agent for direction, like a younger sibling. Both stood tall and straight. They often cast glances over their shoulders and kept their hands close to their pockets. Experienced fighters, military training but not involvement. They learned it from their father. The short one wore an iron ring on his right index finger--his mother's. She must have passed, then.

"Excuse you?" 'Agent Angus' said, sounding offended.

"I said, no. You're not federal agents. One, those badges are fake. Two, why come to me? Scotland Yard would only have sent you if they were desperate."

Agent Young sighed. "Damn, you're good." Agent Angus shot him a betrayed look, which was responded to with a shrug, and Angus scoffed.

"Alright, fine, we're not agents. But we really do need your help," Angus said.

"Come inside," Sherlock said, permitting them through the door. They seemed surprised, but Young quickly nudged Angus inside with a grateful expression on his face. Sherlock led them upstairs, then shut the door and turned to face them.

"Explain. You're brothers obviously, and this isn't your first time impersonating federal agents. You grew up on the road with a militaristic lifestyle brought to you by your father, never staying in one place for long. However, you don't seem to be hardened criminals, so why would you be on the run? Why feel the need to impersonate agents when you could come to me as a client? You want to be a part of this case. You want access to files, resources. You've done this countless times, but I don't know why. Who are you? What is it that you do?"

Angus gaped for a moment. Young looked amazed, yet thoughtful. "You really are as intelligent as they say," he said.

"No kidding," Angus said. They paused for a moment, exchanging a series of indecipherable looks and gestures. Finally, Angus let out a puff of air and turned to look at Sherlock.

"Alright, we're not crazy, okay?"

"This'll be fun," Sherlock said. Angus scoffed.

"Just remember you asked for it. You're not givin' us much choice here, so here goes. My name is Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam--and we hunt demons."

There's a long period of silence. Then, Sherlock laughed, long and low.

"You have got to be joking! Demons?!"

"And vampires," Dean continued. "Werewolves. Ghosts. Pretty much any monster you can think of--except unicorns."

"Well ..." Sam says.

"No! No unicorns! That time doesn't count!"

"You're serious," Sherlock said, wide-eyed. "You actually believe that all of these creatures exist."