Tag: ababs

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December 17th excerpt:

John couldn’t help but marvel at the amount of detail he was able to see through the small lens, if slightly distorted. The individual spikes of Dean’s hair which swayed as though in time with a breeze; it didn’t take John long to realize that the breeze was his breath, and he made a conscious effort to lessen the gust. Freckles across Dean’s cheeks and stubble on his chin, the tiniest things that John wouldn’t be able to make out ordinarily. Bloodstains on his black shirt, and… John squinted and looked closer, a little thrown by the sight of a necklace resting against Dean’s chest. Even with the magnifier, all he could really make out was an outline of a leather cord and a metallic gleam from a pendant.

“What is that? ” Sherlock piped up, leaning in close again. 

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December 16th excerpt:

Leaning on the slight incline of John’s fingers, some of which outsized him in length, Dean had never looked smaller and more vulnerable.

This was further accentuated when a longer, paler finger came from behind John to poke at Dean’s shoulder, flipping the tiny person onto his back.

“Stop that!” John hissed, slapping Sherlock’s hand out of the way. The hand supporting Dean wavered ever so slightly, causing his head to loll to the other side.

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December 15th excerpt:

What little breath Sam had left, he called up to grit out “Terrible. Crowd… to work with… Why talk?”

Euan’s face twisted with irritation. He was sick and tired of this Sam’s backtalk, but as much as he wanted to silence the little pest for good, he was valuable merchandise.

“You need to learn your place, boy,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

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December 14th excerpt:

John blinked at the sudden shift in Dean’s trajectory, concern mounting as the man fell silent. He glanced at Sherlock again, whose frown deepened. “Is this– Has he ever tracked a person? ”

“Not to my knowledge,” muttered the detective in reply. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest and his eyes darted between Dean and John. Sherlock wouldn’t say it aloud, but he was looking to John for answers as much as John was to him. As a doctor, his expertise was more expansive than Sherlock’s from a medical standpoint. There was no telling what sorts of limits Dean’s ability held, or the toll it would take.

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December 13th excerpt:

Infuriated, Dean’s hand closed into a fist around the tinfoil cup, crumpling it into a ball. “Son of a bitch! ” he snarled, whipping the ball of foil at the stack of books. Glowering at the way it just bounced off the topmost book, he shoved his boot back on, threading the laces and pulling them as tight as he could, searching for a place to funnel his anger.

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December 11th excerpt:

When nothing turned up there, Sherlock got up to repeat the process around the room. He paused, squinted and leaned over the worktop to scrutinize a minuscule smudge. There were a few tiny dots of blood, long since dried, a short distance from the book pile where the knife had been found, one of them spread thin in the vague impression of the toe of a minuscule boot.

A tiny foot kicks Sam’s knife across the surface, hard enough to cover several inches in distance.

Sherlock frowned at the image that flashed in his mind. If Sam was truly in danger from another human, why would he rid himself of his sole weapon? Unless he wasn’t alone…

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December 10th excerpt:

If it wasn’t for the dire circumstances they were in, Dean’s face would have been painted with fascination at the chance to work with the tools Sherlock used on his cases. As it was, he set to his task with no wasted energy, carefully mopping up every drop of blood that speckled Sam’s knife. The murky gleam of red was soon replaced by the more familiar shine.

Dean’s small size made it simple to get the blood right on the tip of the paper. It was like working with oversized construction paper, and since the blade was made for Dean’s size, he didn’t have a problem.

A small mimic of Sherlock, Dean sat back on his heels, holding up the folded paper circle for Sherlock to take, its white surface marred by the ring of drying blood.

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December 9th excerpt:

“Whoa– hey,” Sam uncurled, his own worries put aside as Anita began to cry. He reached out a tentative hand, putting it on her shoulder and gently coaxing her to face him.

“You didn’t do it, right?” Sam asked, funneling what little calm he could find to her. “You don’t have to be so upset. And when Dean finds us,” and he will, Sam swore inside his head, “you’ll be free too. I promise.”

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December 8th excerpt:

“Ah-ah, easy now, boy,” he murmured, his tone halfway between a scold and a coo. “You know you can’t see her until you’ve earned it.”

Geoff sneered as Euan passed. “I still can’t believe the big boss lets you play with the twins,” he grumbled, a teasing grin plastered to his face.