Even the human fandom has recognized that it's a love story. Karkat's just disgusted that we've got them in the wrong quadrant. Rated Teen for Karkat's vocabulary.

John's a doctor. But when he's not a doctor, he's a werewolf.

Sherlock is peculiar, disgusting, and completely useless at being a decent dragon.

A fourth episode, beginning where the third ended. In which Sherlock and John play the cards dealt to them; featuring running, puzzles, running, a card game analogy, and more running.

It certainly wasn't the first time he'd been woken up at ridiculous o'clock; it wasn't even the first time he'd been woken up at ridiculous o'clock in London, in the comfort of his own flat. But as John Watson's fingers closed reflexively over the handle of the bedside drawer, yanked, and then plunged inside to close around the familiar weight of his side arm, he realised that it was the first time he'd been woken up by Sherlock Holmes silhouetted on the threshold of his room, with a feather in his hair, snapping his fingers peremptorily and announcing: “Gun. Now.”

One criminal consultant. One consulting detective. One serial killer. And one perhaps inadvisable bet...

"I think I met someone," John says at his next therapist's appointment. "A friend." "Really?" Ella asks. She sounds pleased, and also surprised. "What's his name?" John nods. "Really. His name's Sherlock. He -- he plays the same game as me, the online one. We party together."

“Eternity is really rather boring, John. Mortal life seemed as though it would be far more interesting.” Sherlock is actually the Devil, but he decided to live as a mortal because ruling Hell was boring.

The thing that made it so easy to hide was that everyone knew what dragons were supposed to be like. John heard people wonder about Sherlock sometimes, sending him slanting, speculative glances, as they questioned his lineage. But John Watson, who was steady, reliable, even-tempered? He slid right under their radar, just another average human being in a world full of them.

Sherlock has just run off in a whirlwind of coat without a word, leaving Scotland Yard cursing his name. It’ll be a while before they can get someone to translate this, and meanwhile that tall know-it-all bastard has gone off to do god-knows-what without bothering to even tell them what the note says. John edges forward in the middle of the uproar, and surreptitiously glances at the note. Androvy, it says briefly. The warehouse at five. Serdyukov. John seems like such an ordinary bloke. Appearances can be deceptive.

And how things could have gone differently.

“Your first mistake,” John says smoothly, “was calling yourself Moriarty. It got my attention.” In which Jim is not, in fact, Moriarty.

Yusuke isn't the only spirit detective in the world. Five AUs.