The Dragonslayers || Sherlock & John (Shadowhunter AU)
This was not how Sherlock Holmes had intended to spend his Equinox.
Dinners of state and balls and luncheons and garden parties made him nauseated beyond belief; he had been expressing his distaste for such things since he could first open his mouth. It had been a large part of his decision to leave his brother's household and strike out on his own - despite the dangers. There were over fifty different things he could be doing with this equinox - better things, useful things - that would be valuable in the extreme.
Instead, Sherlock sat at his brother's right hand in a dinner staged within the very nest of vipers. Nearly every one of the assorted guests had at least one reason to wish Mycroft dead and despite his prickly nature and their decades-old animosity... Sherlock had no wish to see his brother die.
Still, as he leaned back in his chair and watched the salad plates being served with a truly bored expression, Sherlock couldn't help but feeling that he had wasted a useful evening. None of these people were powerful enough to have caused the disturbance he and Mycroft had felt last week. Only half of them were even aware such events could occur - less than a handful would have been able to feel it as well. These men were powerful when considered against the average sheep in their tending, but not in terms of the worlds at large.
Leaning in to mutter his excuses into his brother's ear - desperate to perhaps salvage some of the night - Sherlock froze. There. The tiniest giveaway - so small that even he had almost missed it entirely. The tell-tale flash of black within the eyes that spoke of demonic origin. Humans couldn't see it, but Sherlock came from no mere mortal stock.
"I have it," he breathed, his lips never moving as he warned his brother. "Don't touch your food."
With that, he stood and followed the waiting staff as they retreated back into the kitchen, reaching out to brush one hand along the back of the man whose eyes had blackened and asking loud enough to be casual if he possibly had a light.
It was a good cover for the tendril of willpower he sent out to wrap around the demon's throat like a collar and leash. You'll be coming with me, I should think. Been too long since I've had the pleasure of a proper chat.
That tug followed him toward the alley exit - the strongest he could place; he was not willing to have this conversation within range of collateral damage.