The day an angel knocked on 221B backer street door

Call an ambulance !

Chapter 2: Call an ambulance !

John threw himself to catch him and he held the man firmly in his arms. He laid him on the sofa and pushed his hand to discover a deep gash in it that was shining?? No time for explanations because if John didn't want to see the stranger die in front of his eyes he had to stop the bleeding.
- Sherlock!!!! He shouted as loud as he could.
Sherlock ran down the stairs, stopping in his tracks when he saw the pale man dying on the couch.
-Cass??Sherlock rushed to lay the palm of his hand on the dying man.
-Quickly! call an ambulance! John said firmly.
-no time . In a jiffy Sherlock took a kitchen knife before making a fine gash in his arm, then he took the blood to write some kind of signs on the walls
- are you losing your mind?? This man you seem to know is going to bleed to death if we don't hurry up and get him the care he needs.
- John, if he is in this state, it means that we are in serious danger. Moreover if you take him to the hospital the doctors will not be able to do anything for a celestial being of his kind.
-What ? This time it's really going too far, Sherlock. said John as his friend was putting what looked like two months of salt reserve on the edges of windows and doors. John then pressed harder on the stranger's wound which made the bleeding man shed a tear and rear up in pain.
-S...stop...stop. The man's voice was weak and he looked at him with pain filled eyes pleading for him to stop this agony.
He hurried to reassure him as he did with his patients.
-Shhhh. It's okay, I'm here for you. I won't hurt you. I am trying to help you.
When Sherlock looked like he was finishing his little ritual, he walked over to the man.
-Where are the others ?? Sherlock asked harshly. But all he got from the man was a low moan. Sherlock angrily took a gun from the drawer and grabbed the phone to start dialing.
- So you finally decided to call an ambulance? But all John got in explanation was a frustrated noise from Sherlock.
-well, this time it's really enough. Do you realize that this man's life depends on it?
- John, I assure you that we are in much worse danger right now than the thing that is in front of you right now.
-Could you have some respect and not call it "the thing"?
Keeping pressure on the wound, John took the phone from his pocket and dialed the emergency number. Suddenly three men and a woman appeared in the apartment and John found himself thrown against the wall. Sherlock brandished the rifle at one of these individuals and launched a bullet that killed him instantly by emitting a yellow light. John wondered if this was really real or just a very realistic nightmare. The other two walked over to the sofa where the strange individual was lying. The woman rushed at Sherlock but again she received a bullet from the rifle in question.

One of the assailants wrapped his hand around the injured man's neck and he could do nothing but let out small, muffled cries as he was strangled fiercely. His eyes watched John full of agony begging for help as he desperately gasped for air. It made John mad to attack a human being who couldn't even defend himself.

-Pathetic little angel, you'll have to do better than that (he squeezed harder) you really thought you could escape us by teleporting here? Although you were lucky that by teleporting with such a serious injury you weren't already just charred traces on a wall. But don't worry it's about to happen.

As the man brandished an iron dagger at the injured stranger, Sherlock began to recite strange words in Latin. This made the monster mad with rage and he tried to run away but it was as if invisible walls were holding him in place. And then suddenly a long cloud of black smoke escaped from the man in question before he fell to the ground inert.

John fell heavily to the ground but before asking Sherlock any questions he headed in the direction of the badly injured man. Sherlock went into the kitchen and returned with a tiny vial that glowed blue. He poured some of its contents into the man's mouth, who then fell unconscious.

-Listen John I'm going to make it short because we're in danger ok? Two years ago, this man brought me back to life. He and his group of friends took me under their wing in exchange for proper help. What attacked us earlier were demons. Inhuman and extremely dangerous monsters. The man standing in front of you is called Castiel, he is... a... an angel.

John stood there half frozen trying to digest the information Sherlock had given him. The private detective went back to the kitchen and took a phone and tried to call again but no one answered. He seemed very irritated even more than usual.
-listen Sherlock I haven't yet understood who is delirious between the two of us or even if we are doing it simultaneously, but if we are really in danger then I am ready to listen to you and believe you. Castiel opened his eyes and Sherlock walked over to the couch.
- If you came back to take back the computer that I took from Sam when I left, you can dream.
-.....No actually I came because...
-I know I had understood it's called humor. But what are you really doing here? I told you never to come back, that I wanted to keep John out of all of this and get back what I had lost for two years. Sherlock was pissed and the blue-eyed man looked down in guilt.
- look, I was hurt and you were the only person I could turn to...
- I don't care about your excuses, you're putting me and my friend in danger, go back to the Winchesters.
- I can't...
- What's going on? They died for the fiftieth time?
- This time enough, Sherlock! Can't you have feelings for once? John was now angry at the way Sherlock was treating the supposed angel,
- no they are not dead but they don't want me anymore. I hurt Dean and I doubt he'll ever want to see me again.
At these words Sherlock seemed confused but he didn't dare ask any more questions.
- If not, who did this to you?
It's Crowley. He wanted the Tablet of Angels back and I didn't want to give it back to him but in the end he got what he wanted.
-Castiel, listen even if I wanted you to stay here you couldn't. My brother is at the head of the British Men of Letters and if he saw you, he would just consider you as a pile of ingredients.
-Please I can't heal myself and I don't have anyone else to...
-No ! Sherlock practically shouted in his face.
Castiel looked down then got up with difficulty. He had trouble catching his breath as he limped toward the door.
-Thanks anyway .
He said as he left the apartment.

The thoughts in John's head raced. He didn't want this man left alone, he knew very well that he wouldn't survive more than an hour. He rushed to the door of the apartment and stormed out into the street. Castiel had not gone 5 meters when he was already on the ground slumped against the side of a car, unconscious. John leaned him on his shoulder before dragging him to the apartment.