Sam and Dean Winchester have struck up a deal with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. The brothers will offer their help solving cases, in return for living in the flat and sharing in the food John brings home.
This all sounds well and good, until it’s the Winchesters that end up needing Sherlock’s services for his next case…
A reminder to everyone that when A Burglary at Baker Street ends, there will be no poll. Instead, There’s No Place Like Home will begin posting, and after that story wraps up we’ll return to the poll with all new options in it!
And now, a special sneak peek of the story that begins January 2nd, 2019!
Dean gestured for Sherlock to give him a hand. “Well, what are we waiting for, then?”
Sherlock smirked and proffered a hand for Dean, smoothly ferrying the elder Winchester to his shoulder. With Dean settled, Sherlock turned to face the room, not entirely sure of what to expect. And for once, the uncertainty wasn’t irritating, but exciting.
“Where to, Winchester?” he queried, awaiting Dean’s instruction.
Dean was silent for a long moment. He very rarely tried to actively use the ability. Mostly it just happened. They needed food, and he would suddenly just know where to go. Questioning it when their lives depended on the ability seemed like looking a gift horse in the mouth.
As he focused, the prickles on the back of his neck began to grow more prominent. His surroundings dropped away. He no longer noticed the rhythmic cadence of a pulse that throbbed through Sherlock’s neck next to him, and the steady sound of breathing, air rushing in and out of Sherlock’s lungs, was gone. It was like he was standing next to Sam once more, trying to hurriedly clear his mind and listen to Sam’s constant litany of ‘advice’ for how to do it.
With focus came clarity, and Dean found himself pointing before he realized his hand was moving.
Psychic freak slipped into his mind and he angrily crushed the thought as he told Sherlock, “That way.”
Sherlock almost didn’t notice the tiny hand, but he frowned when he tracked its path with his eyes. Dean was pointing at the door out of the flat.
The detective’s steps were halting as he approached the door, confused about what Dean was supposed to be leading him to. At his right, John entered the main room from the kitchen, a biscuit in one hand and the morning paper in the other. John paused as he noticed Sherlock’s odd movements, eyeing his flatmate as he sank into his armchair.
Sherlock slowly wrapped his hand around the doorknob, wishing he could look at Dean questioningly.
Dean didn’t notice the odd looks John was shooting at the strange pair from his armchair, unknowingly placed beside the nook in the walls the brothers had chosen for their home. If Dean spared a thought for where it was placed, he imagined it was just about at John’s eye level while sitting.
But right now, his thoughts were all tied up with the feeling on the back of his neck. After years of stubbornly ignoring the ones that were out of reach, it seemed that giving it his full attention had brought it flooding around him, more important than anything else. He needed it, and this was his chance to finally see what, and where, the thing was that was pulling at him in London.
When Sherlock didn’t open the door, Dean felt his impatience come to the fore. “Well?” he burst out. “We’re doing this, right? Or was this just some test run?”
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