"Sam, Dean, this is Sherlock Holmes" the Doctor said, back turned to the other three occupants of the room as he tinkered with one of the many supernatural objects the boys kept around the bunker.
Dean was silent for a moment, Sam raising an eyebrow at the Doctor's back
"okay, did he just say 'Sherlock Holmes'?" Dean asked his brother
"yeah," Sam said slowly, looking over to the apparent 'Sherlock Holmes' who was standing by the table, looking at a book Sam had been reading before their two guests had arrived.
"I think he did. How-"
"Parallel universe" Sherlock cut in, not looking up from the old ledger "I exist here while the books that feature my exploits do not."
Before either of the Winchester's could comment, Sherlock continued.
"or as the Doctor would call it 'spacey-wacey'. Much easier for you to understand, I expect"
Dean looked to Sam, who had perfect bitchface number eighteen and was directing it at Sherlock.
"okay," Dean said, crossing his arms and setting his fe
"well, look" the Doctor said hurriedly, hands raised in an unthreatening manner and bow tie crooked. His hair was mused and his clothes scattered.
All over the floor.
Of the queens bed chamber.
Looking back, the Doctor would see that this was a particularly stupid thing to have done, seeing as how she was to be married in a few hours.
"i.. Ah…"the Doctor continued, for once at a loss for words "...I can explain? Sort of… okay, not really" he said, bending over to pickup his long green coat and held it so it covered his … extremities.
"just look at this and I will explain everything" the doctor said, raising almost non-existent eyebrows as he fished in his jacket pocket for his leather wallet, then held it out for the twenty or so armed guards to read.
"what is this?" one of the guards, a tall brute of a man with a spear in his hand said, looking to the Doctor's outstretched hand then back to the Doctor.
"it should be papers to something official-y, I think"
"who are y
Goodnight Sammy 2/3Dean grinned down at Sam, standing on his tip-toes to see over the barred wall of the crib.
"Hi Sammy" he said, hooking his elbows over the top of the crib and dangling his fingers in front of the infants eyes.
Sam's eyes -which Dean thought where much too large for the rest of his head- followed the movements with a bit of a lag, but he giggles anyway, grabbing hold of his toes and rocking on his back.
Dean laughs at his little brother, moving his hands away and just looking at the baby.
He had a drippy nose and he constantly slobbered everywhere. When Sam smiled, Dean could see the tiny little stumps of Sam's teeth starting to come through. He had a small nose, and his head was mostly bald. But his skin was soft and pale, not a blemish in sight.
Sam looked at him with pale eyes -Mum said they would get brighter as he got older- and smiled a gummy slime that had Dean laughing.
Sam laughed along with him, arms flailing and hitting the mattress underneath him as well as kicking his legs
Woah, Easy Tiger 1/3It had been a mistake.
Dean had judged the witch wrong.
She was only sixteen, to be fair, and he hadn't thought the girl had had it in her to actually kill someone.
They had been standing in a hunting den of a massive house, easily being able to be described as a mansion. The witches father had been a hunter when he was younger -not the supernatural hunter, just a regular one- and had killed animals all over the world.
They were illegal, of course, seeing as Dean had just had a rhino horn shoved through his abdomen by the witch’s telekinesis.
He absently heard Sam calling his name -shit, Sam had just watched him get stabbed- and then a girl's screaming.
Dean felt the cold tiles hit his back, and gasped in surprise; from the impact as much as the cold.
He hadn't remembered falling. The back of his head connected with the ground, making his vision swim. If he wasn't dying, Dean would have thrown up.
Warm hands where pressing over Dean's stomach -he vacantly realised he didn't have
SuperWhoLock Meetings: Lestrade and GabrielLestrade sighed deeply, rubbing his face as he blindly reached for his coffee mug, -Sherlock had actually given it to his for Christmas, though he deeply suspected John had bought it and told Sherlock to give it to him, seeing as he had received it a week before the holiday, without it being wrapped- and found in empty. Lestrade almost groaned in frustration. Today was turning out to be a horrible day.
He glanced at the man opposite him, who grinned in return. Lestrade barely restrained himself from leaning over the desk and punching him. No one, absolutely no one should be that happy at 6 o' clock on a Monday morning.
Lestrade settled for narrowing his eyes, and turning back to his computer.
After five minutes of not actually doing any work, Lestrade turned back to the man narrowing his eyes at the grin that instantly went to his face when Lestrade showed him attention.
"So, what's your name again?" Lestrade grumbled
"Gabriel" he replied, pulling a lollypop from his jacket pocket.
SuperWhoLock meetings: Sherlock, John and JackJohn dashed down the grimy alley after Sherlock, excited to see the crime scene before it was cleared (though John knew he just wanted to see the corpse before anyone moved it)
He reached the scene and ducked under the police tape, walking to where Sherlock was crouched next to a body, rifling through the man’s pockets in search for clues.
John walked around to the other side and inspected the man’s face, and listed facts as Sherlock continued his pilfering.
"Male, mid-thirties" John said, tipping the man’s head up as he looked at the bruised on the his neck
"Asphyxiated to death with hands" he continued, indicating to the clear imprints on fingers circling the man’s throat "dead for about fifteen minutes" finished John as he stood, taking in the rest of the man’s profile.
He was tall -though everyone was tall by John's standards- and wore a long blue coat. When Sherlock pulled open the coat though, John didn't even take in what he was wearing, seeing a bl