Chapter Text
John yawned and stretched, blinking his eyes open. Then he caught sight of his hand. He yelped and jumped from the bed, it was too chubby to be his. He looked back at the bed, for Sherlock, instead, there was a red-headed man next to him. He looked down and he was wearing clothes he didn’t recognize. And his body was different. He pinpointed a mirror and looked into it. His face was round and there were smile lines. Fluffy blonde hair covered his head. His body was rounder than he remembered. What was happening?
“Sher… Sherlock?” He called out, he heard a groan from the red-headed man and he stretched his arms and back, before standing up. He was a lanky thing, dressed in boxer briefs, socks and nothing else, and to John’s dismay (and slightly delight, but mostly embarrassment) he thought the man was really attractive. He ran a hand through his bright red hair and yawned. When he opened his eyes, John gasped at the fact that they were yellow, with slits for pupils.
“Morning Angel,” he started to walk over to John. Then he paused, “you… you’re not Aziraphale.” He looked up and down at John, “whaaaaat?”
“I don’t know what’s happening, I’m not your ‘Angel’ and you’re not Sherlock,” John said, putting things together. He ran a hand through his own hair and then reached for his ring, there was a ring there but it wasn’t his, he could tell. He still twisted it, it helped anyways, “what’s happening?”
The man sighed, he walked over to a wardrobe and threw John some clothes, then he picked out some clothes for himself and walked —more of a dance than a walk— over to what John assumed was a bathroom.
John pulled off his clothes, and to his surprise, he didn’t have… one. He pulled on the new clothes, they were comfortable. It was a brown vest, over a blue shirt, with grey-brown pants and over it all was a long cream coloured jacket. He smiled to himself,
It was comfortable, he didn’t know how to tie a bow tie, so he just set it on the bed. The lanky man came back, now dressed in mostly black, with sunglasses covering his yellow eyes.
John went into the bathroom for a moment, and not wanting to use a toothbrush that he couldn’t find, he just swished water in his mouth. Then he splashed some more in his face, the only thing that seemed normal was his eyes, still nice and blue, and he luckily still had his round pupils; they weren’t slits, or some other odd shape.
He stepped back into the bedroom, where the lanky man was nowhere to be seen. He looked around the building, and found out that he was in a bookshop. He decided to wait for the red-haired man (who was no longer in the shop) and read a book while he did so. When he checked for his watch, it was gone, probably with wherever his body was, he guessed.
He picked out the iliad, then put it back down, since it was in Greek, which he could not read. Next to it though, there was another copy, this time in English. But as if on cue, the man came back. He gave John a coffee. It was just plain black, no sugar, which he liked.
“Thank you Mr. Uhm…” John trailed off, he still didn’t know the man’s name.
“Crowley,” Crowley said, putting out his hand, John shook it, “you?”
“Dr. John Watson ,” he said, this was the most he had talked so far, he liked the voice that came out of his mouth, it was comforting. Slightly high pitched and proper, but in a nice way, “Is your name just Crowley?”
“Yeah,” Crowley said, he looked solemnly at John, and then put his glasses back on, “Where do you live, I might be able to find Aziraphale there.”
John nodded, and then opened his mouth, but to his dismay, he couldn’t remember. Where did he live, it was on the tip of his tongue, it was there, but he couldn’t get to it, “I… don’t know,”
“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’ how do you not know?” Crowley asked, slightly annoyed.
“I just.. don’t know.”
Crowley groaned, this was going to be a rough time.