November 26th excerpt:
Their destination was only a few blocks away, but the blocks in this part of town were quite large. It would take quite a bit of walking to get there, and John was in no rush with his little addition on his shoulder.
A little over halfway there, however, John’s pace stuttered a little in hesitation. He carried on another step or two, but backtracked after a moment.
He was almost certain he’d heard something.
November 25th excerpt:
Hailing a cab, Sherlock kept in contact with Lestrade, informing him that he was on his way. He neglected to mention his passenger, of course. Dean was very clear that no one should ever find out about him or Sam unless they gave their express permission. Given the events a little over a month prior, neither John nor Sherlock offered any arguments to that rule.
November 24th excerpt:
Sherlock glanced down at Dean, sitting relaxed atop his sternum, and hummed thoughtfully at the insinuation that he scared off the previous small tenants of Baker Street. It certainly wasn’t improbable, though he did wonder if Sam and Dean shared the same sentiments when moving in, and if so, how deeply they believed them.
Interesting to think that they would stay, or even choose to move in with that in mind.
November 23rd excerpt:
As the light increased around him, Dean sent a flat look towards where he assumed Sherlock’s face was. It wasn’t hard to figure that Sherlock was effectively ‘inviting’ him out. With the pen as bait, Dean had been herded right to where Sherlock wanted him, a captive audience.
Thankfully, not literally captive, as Dean knew Sherlock wouldn’t dare trap him. They had, against all odds, become a team.
That meant that first off– Dean wasn’t going to stab Sherlock with his knife.
And second off– that Sherlock allowed Dean to come and go as he pleased, ‘invitations’ aside.
November 22nd excerpt:
Sherlock wondered for a moment about Dean’s perspective in there, enshrouded by hands over twice his height in length. All his attempts to envision such an environment were rendered to be quite alien. Fingers were pillars, palms platforms, yet they were attached to an immense living thing with complete control over them and anyone in them.
November 21st excerpt:
Rather than taking the pen and letting Dean carry on, the great pale hand reached out just a little further, knocking the smaller man off his feet and into Sherlock’s palm. Long fingers curled around Dean and the pen, lifting them both up to join him on the couch.
His grip was loose, far from crushing his passengers together, and it loosened even further as Sherlock tucked the hand under his chin, let his other hand fold lazily over it, and went back to thinking.
November 20th excerpt:
“This better have been worth it,” Dean grumped as he reached the edge of the couch, wandering along as he looked for a place to climb. “Otherwise I’m keeping the pen and taking it apart.”
November 19th excerpt:
It took five minutes to get to the top of the table, kick the pen angrily off the surface, then drop back down. With Dean at a bare three and eight tenths inches tall, the pen was nearly two times his length. All those times hauling water around paid off as he hoisted it up, and started the long trek to the couch.
“One of these days,” Dean grumbled, “I’ll be the one having you bring me things. One of these days.”
November 18th excerpt:
Up. Down. Up again. Why does everything require climbing.
Resigned, Dean started his climb down, griping all the way.
“Y’know, I have half a mind to go back and grab one of Sam’s pencil tips,” Dean complained to the open air of the flat. “He’d notice in a second that it was gone, but it would be worth the look on your face when you either have to use a scrap of pencil to write with or get up and get your own damn pen that’s like five feet away.”
November 17th excerpt:
Cocking his head, Dean was distracted from the paper he was working on, where all he’d managed to scribble in the not five minutes since he’d sat down to work, was two intersecting lines. Hardly the blueprint he had planned.
“Is he serious? ” Dean asked the empty room around him.
He can’t be serious.
And yet.
Brothers Apart 