Hi, okay this is my first fanfiction in awhile and this is my first SuperWhoLock fanficion, so please no flames. I do have dyslexia so there will be a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes. I did try to use spell chest but some times I spelled the word so wrong the word that I wanted didn't show up.

This takes place a little over a year after the fall and John decides that he's not going to live with out Sherlock any more. So he summon's Crowley to bring him back, but Sherlock is all ready traveling with another Doctor. I all ready wrote this fanficion on Tumblr based off a GIF that I saw. My account name on there is raven-azerath.

I do not own Supernatural, Doctor Who, or Sherlock, if I did I wouldn't be trying to find a job so I can work my way threw college.

Warning (Just in case): John does swear a lot and there is a little violence because of John's reaction of Sherlock coming back.

It had been a little over a year since Sherlock died and John was still no were near getting over it. They had found Sherlock's cell phone and after months of working on it they had finally gotten it to work. John's blood had run cold when he heard it, heard that Sherlock had killed himself to protect John. This hadn't made John feel any better, he had only felt more guilty about Sherlock's death. Though Sherlock's name had been cleared because of this recording and that had made it almost bearable to hear it, almost.

John's life had become almost unbearable, he's trimmer and limp had come back worse than ever before. It was now painful just to walk from his room to the loo. Though it went beyond the trimmer and limp, Sherlock had shown him a life of excitement and mystery, but now that he was gone that life was gone too. The police didn't need him consulting on cases, they needed Sherlock. But Sherlock was gone now, gone because John hadn't been able to protect him. That had been his real job, protecting Sherlock, even from himself, and John had failed miserably.

Looking up at Sherlock's chair as he sat in his own John began to think, to plan, but most importantly he began to remember. John knew that he was unwilling to live in a world were Sherlock was no that much was clear. But that didn't mean that he had to die, at least not right awhile. He could have ten years with his best friend and that would be more than enough.

When John was six years old his aunt had been dying of brain cancer, so he and his family had gone down to visit her. For some reason John had not been able to sleep that night to this day he still doesn't know the reason. The night sky had always calmed John, so little John had climbed out of bed went over to the window seat to stare up at the sky until he fell asleep. His uncle and aunt had lived on a farm, so John knew he would be able to see a lot of stars.

Though something else had caught little John's eyes, it had been his uncle going to the cross road right in front of their house, carrying a small box. When his uncle had started to bury it John had blinked in confusion, not understanding why his uncle would do that. But then out of no were a beautiful woman appeared right in front of his uncle. John didn't know what to think, he was too young to understand what was happening and thought that maybe he was dreaming. They had talked for a short while when suddenly they had kissed and John knew that it was a dream then because his uncle would have never kissed another woman. So John had curled up on the window seat and fell asleep. But when he woke up that morning his aunt had looked better than she had in a long time and they learned that she was cured of the cancer. They had all praised God for healing her, but John could never get that memory out of his mind. Or the face that ten years later his uncle had been killed by a wild dog.

It had to have been a devil or a demon and John's uncle had made a deal with it for his aunt's life. Maybe he could have them bring Sherlock back to life. He would have to make sure that he would be in perfect health though; John had no want to have a zombie Sherlock to hang around.

Going to his computer John started to do research about demons and how to summon them to make deals. So you had to have like a photo of yourself, your hair, and some other stuff. All of this was easy enough for John to get to. Though find a place that he could bury it might prove to be difficult. So he looked for other ways to summon it, he would have to leaven London to do that and Sherlock was underground John had to be able to get to Sherlock in time before he suffocated. John finally found another way to summon a demon, a powerful one, this one will defently be able to give him what he needed. Don't worry Sherlock, I know you're probably bored where you are now, but you won't be soon.

John would be lying if he said that he wasn't afraid about summoning the demon, about going to hell, but he had to do this. He owed Sherlock his life over and over again, so this would just be another small way of John trying to repay Sherlock for all that he had done for him. It was John's fault after all that Sherlock was dead in the first place, he had to fix the problem that he made.

Once the summoning ritual was done John started to wait, for a second his gut clenched horribly. Had he really been so foolish to think that something like this would work? Was a really that desprate to have Sherlock back in his life? Though John all ready knew the answer to the questions he was asking himself, 'Yes.' But after that second a man dressed in all black appeared before John, he had black hair that was receding, and dark eyes. "Hello Captain Doctor John Watson." He said grinning at John.

John shifted into a military stance, his eyes narrowing, "How do you know my name?" John asked his voice cold.

"Name's Crowley, I'm the King of Hell. We've been watching your and Sherlock, very interesting people you twp." the man's voice was very cocky and John had to admit he had reason to be. He had a Scottish accent John noticed.

"Sherlock's the interesting one." John muttered automatically, there as nothing interesting about John besides the fact that he works with Sherlock. "What happened to Satan?" John asked raising an eyebrow, he didn't know why he was wasting time with this kind of stuff, though Sherlock would probably find that interesting, maybe that's why.

"Oh he's in the pit." Crowley told John is a dismissive voice waving his hand threw the hair. Then a grin spread across this devil's face, "Dr. Watson let me guess. You want Sherlock Holmes back . . . I'd love to make a deal and your own soul . . . " John swallowed a little at this, he was scared about that but this was for Sherlock, he would do anything for his best friend. " . . . But I can't."

John's eyes shot up to Crowley's rage and confusion in them. If John had to he would force this demon to deal. He would not live with out Sherlock. "Why not?" John asked his voice quick and angry, a clear threat in his voice. Taking a breath John looked at the ground to help control his anger.

Crowley's grin grew even wider, "Because Sherlock Holmes isn't dead." John's eyes once again shot up to Crowley's and he glared at the demon. He didn't know if it was possible to kill a demon but if it was John would kill Crowley if he was lying to him. Though why would he lie, he wouldn't be getting a soul other whys. It wouldn't benift him at all. "He's with a different Doctor right now."

John frowned, struggling to understand what he had just been told. If it was true and Sherlock was alive, why hadn't he told John? But the answer came to mind quickly, to protect him. That basterd was the type to do everything by himself. Stupid git. Though John couldn't stop the happiness and relief that was spreading threw his body stomping out the anger. Sherlock was alive, he was alive! That thought almost made John smile, but right now he was in front of a demon that could tell him where Sherlock was and then John could go to Sherlock and it would be like old times again. Of course John would have to punch Sherlock first, he needs to learn that you can't fake your death with out concquinces. "Explain." He growled out a bit harshly.

Crowley grinned an laughed a little, "Is that an order Captain?" he teased.

John was in no mood for teasing, "Yes." he hissed, his hands clenching into fists.

"Well, well, well someone found their spunk." Crowley remarked raising his eyebrows. "I don't know where he is at the moment, no one does. But if you think really hard, demanding for the Doctor to bring Sherlock back it'll happen." Crowley then snapped his fingers and he was gone.

Frowning John sat back down and pressed his hand to his mouth as he thought deeply on this. How would thinking hard do anything to call some that the King of Hell calls the Doctor, what is he the Doctor of demons. No that didn't make since, because if the Doctor was a demon then the King of Hell would know where he was.

Okay you never know what's going to happen until you try. This better work. Taking a deep breath John focused and started thinking as hard as he could, 'Doctor, I don't know who the hell you are, but you have my best friend, so you drag his ass back here now! -John Watson.' John thought that hard over and over, he figured a shot message was best.

Suddenly a noise like no other that John had ever heard before filled the room. Snapping his eyes open John shot out of his chair and turned around, to see a blue police box appearing in this flat. That was something that John never thought that he would ever see.

John was still staring at it in a dumbstruck way when Sherlock walked out. A gasp seemed to catch in John's throat as he took Sherlock in. He seemed thinner than before, this so called Doctor wasn't taking good care of him. The Doctor clearly didn't know that you needed to force feed Sherlock some times, well all the time. His dark curls were the same length, he was a bit paler though, and his eyes seemed haunted. "John, I-" Sherlock whispered reaching out to John. Little did John know that he too was taking John in.

Thinner by at least fourteen pounds, hard to tell with that jumper he's got on. Hasn't been eating.

His limp is back as well as his trimmer. Why? PTSD? What from? Watching me die maybe?

Dark shadows under his eyes, hasn't been sleeping. Nightmares. The war? Unlikely. The Fall? Most likely.

Paler, hasn't been out much.

Eyes are haunted. By what? Me?

Sherlock didn't get a chance to finish taking in John or speak because suddenly a fist had collided with his face. John's fist. "That's for faking your death!" John punched him again, "That's for not telling me you faking it!" John punched him again, "That's for making me watch!" John punched Sherlock again. Sherlock never tried to defend himself, he knew that he deserved this. He had hurt John to the core and that was unforgivable. "That is for not taking me with you when you left on some great advencher." John huffed out, a bit out of breath. "And this is for coming back." John whispered and hugged his best friend tightly, feeling some tears come to his eyes.

When John hugged him Sherlock didn't quiet know how to react, this was the first hug that he had in a long time. Awkwardly Sherlock hugged John back, "I'm sorry John, but I had to protect you." he whispered.

John pulled back from Sherlock, his eyes dry now, "What you didn't think that I could protect myself?" John asked, clearly still not completely over his anger at this.

"They had a sniper on you John! I had no way to contact you and even if I did there was no way to reach everyone in time. I just had to make sure. I had Molly and the Doctor help me out." Sherlock told John quickly, still holding his face. John really knew how to throw a punch.

"But what about after you jumped Sherlock when you were safely away?!" John yelled back.

"I had to take down Moriarty's web so he had no chance of hurting any of you!" Sherlock yelled back then ruffly ran his hand threw his hair. "I'm not good with sentiment, but you, Lestrande, Mrs. Huddson. You have given it to me and I don't know how to deal with it."

John sighed shaking his head, "I don't really understand what you mean you blood bastard, but you're not leaving again." John told him firmly. Then sighed looking at the box and some man with a bow tie that looked like a gangly giraffe at the door. "Who the bloody hell is that?" John asked waving his hand toward the Doctor.

Sherlock glanced behind him like he had forgotten the Doctor was there, turning back to John with a wide grin on his face, "That my dear John Watson is the person that will take us on our next advencer."

"Well what are you waiting for get in? Oh by the way John how did you know how to use my physic paper?" the Doctor asked.

"The King of Hell told me." John replied. Sherlock and the Doctor just stared at John for a long time. "What? Does that mean something?" John asked.

The Doctor nodded, looking very grim. "Yes, it means that the war is started." He took a deep breath, "We'll be needing get to the Winchester's right away, they'll need all the help they can get." he continued. Then they three men hurried into the blue box and onto the next advencher.

Once they had the time John would be demanding more answers, but for now he didn't mind, he was back with his best friend and they were off running into danger. John's cane lay forgotten on by his chair.

Okay it's over please tell me what you think. If you think that I'm any good and you want a fanfiction about something, anything at all, Sherlock or some other fandom, you can ask me to make it. Just give me a prompt, a gif, or a photo to go off of, I will happily make it, as long as I'm part of the fandom other whys I won't know anything about it most likely and thus will be unable to make it. Though it might take a while, just a warning.

By the way if you want me to continue on this story I will, if not, it will remain a one shot.

Have a wonderful day!