(Y/n) Winchester joins her brothers in a hunt in London, England. Upon entering the large city they followed several signs of demonic omens, joining Sherlock on the case along the way.
As the demons become aware that they're being hunted the game ta...
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"Your right hand is shaking, you're nervous."
"Of course I'm nervous," (Y/n) mumbled, "I was stabbed, couldn't walk, and now I'm dancing ballet again."
"You'll do well enough," Sherlock plucked a few strings on his violin, "Any song preference? Preferably not the horrendous music Dean has a taste for."
"Play the song for the wedding," (Y/n) requested, knowing full well Sherlock had been working on a song for John and Mary's wedding.
She had heard bits and pieces of the song, but not the entire thing.
Sherlock brought his bow to the strings of his violin with a flourish. The first roles of the song rang out. (Y/n) walked to the center of the cleared out living room.
"You'd never expect a hunter to dance ballet," Sherlock commented as (Y/n) began to twirl around.
"That's why I love it," (Y/n) held back a wince as she balanced weight on her bad leg. "It was symbolic at the time. Leaving the hunter life behind, starting over. As you can see, the life always manages to pull you back in. Did the same with Sam."
"Yes well, if you want to get away from hunting, why not stay here in London?" Sherlock raised a brow when (Y/n) stumbled, falling against the wall, "Have I said something wrong?"
"No, you just surprised me that's all," (Y/n) slid to the floor, and began to remove her pointe shoes, avoiding eye contact as she did so.
"The straight angel said you wanted the hunting life to be over. If you stay, the only demon will be Moriarty. You can solve normal cases."
"There's nothing normal about your cases," (Y/n) chuckled, slowly standing up as not to hurt her leg.
"You want to leave, it's obvious," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "England is away from hunting."
"But Dean, and Cas, and Bobby, and Sam-"
"The gay angel can teleport around the world. (Y/n), stay," Sherlock's tone was both stern and slightly pleading.
"Give me until the wedding, okay? I just need a bit of time to think over staying."
Sherlock opened his mouth to say something before (Y/n)'s phone went off.
"Hey guys," (Y/n) greeted as she grabbed her phone, setting it on speaker so she could sit down.
"You idjit, why'd you have to leave the country?"
"We caught Lucifer Bobby, we're fine, ish."
"I heard you got shot baby, you sure you're alright?" A woman's voice asked.
"Psychical therapy is going great, everyone's alive, it's great. I do miss you guys. No guys have tried to hit on you, right Jo?"
"I can handle myself (Y/n). Besides, Mom always keeps her gun within reach."
"Come home soon, alright? There are monsters that need hunt-"
The line went to static. (Y/n)'s brows furrowed in confusion. She looked up at Sherlock.
"I thought you said service worked well here," she said in concern.
"It does," Sherlock sat up in his chair, interest piqued.
"Be honest, did you miss me?"
"Moriarty?"
"Thought I'd just say hello, see how the recovery is going."
"We're going to find you Moriarty."
"You can try. By the way, Sherlock, a little spoiler for the future of your obvious relationship, if you ever get there. Hunting really helps the figure, perhaps it's the ballet as well."
Sherlock's jaw clenched, something dangerous sparking behind his eyes as he glared down at the phone.
"I'm going to send you straight back to Hell Moriarty."
"Have fun with that. One last thing, something to think about, how does it feel to be the middle child? Ta ta!"
Sherlock's formerly angered expression turned to one of confusion at the question. Middle child? Mycroft was the oldest, he was the youngest, that was it. They were the two Holmes children.
"Do you have a secret brother I don't know about or something?" (Y/n) asked, flipping her phone shut.
"The only other being besides my parents was Red Beard, and he was a dog," Sherlock's hands formed their customary Sherlock Position as he thought over the possible reasons Moriarty said what he said.
"Thinking about it," (Y/n) went over the calculations in her head, "If you and I were to get married, although apparently to Mycroft we already are, you'd be the middle Winchester."
"I don't think that's what he meant," Sherlock disagreed, "I'll look in Mycroft's files later."
"Another Holmes child, what would you parents name him? Sherrinford?"
"Sherrinford Holmes," Sherlock said in slight distaste, "Has a strange ring to it don't you think?"
