Saving people, solving crimes The flatmate business
Over a decade ago, a serious of unfortunate events led to the Winchesters, at only a few inches in height, being forcibly relocated to London. Now, they’ve adjusted to their size and found a new home to live in that just happens to be the same residence of a certain detective and his blogger…
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade
We’re a little behind schedule for writing it due to rl things, and ended up tackling a bit of a different story for a bit that was easier to write at the time, but we’ll be getting back into it soon, and once we get moving again, we’ll be able to excerpt it.
For now, I’ll leave you with this:
Protectively pulling Sam half into his lap, Dean parted his frozen lips. He hadn’t talked since Sam dropped unconscious over an hour back, and his voice cracked. “P-please,” Dean pleaded. “Don’t take him.”
John’s heart sank to hear the desperation in the absolutely tiny voice. “I’m not going to,” he promised quietly.
He convinced himself to tear his eyes away, glancing up and down the street. It was dead quiet, no one around at this hour. He was alone with two absolutely tiny kids freezing in the snow.
“Where are your parents?” he asked gently, turning back to Dean. “Are they nearby? Did you get separated?”
Things on the side of the walk weren’t an unusual sight at all, especially in John’s part of town. There was always a little rubbish someone missed, toys or other belongings some kid might have dropped earlier in the day that got swept aside.
So when John noticed a small figure huddled against the wall, his gaze downturned thanks to the precipitation, he passed right by it with hardly a question.
A few steps away was a crossing, which had just turned in the direction that John wasn’t heading, so he shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh and waited patiently for the light.
Boredom struck quickly, and curiosity brought his attention sliding back the way he’d come, to that strange figure in the snow. He didn’t understand why until he thought about it; whatever it was, was small enough to be a toy. But a fallen toy wouldn’t manipulate itself in such a position.
Curiosity won out, and with a glance back at the traffic lights, John meandered his way back to check out what was over there.
Frowning thoughtfully, John crouched down for a better look. He wasn’t around children often, but he’d never seen toys quite like these.
It seemed to be two figures, clinging to each other in the snow. Too lifelike to be simple playthings, and he couldn’t see any telltale joint mechanisms to allow for movement. Perhaps it was some kind of subtle art piece, a political statement maybe.
They looked an awful lot like kids.
John couldn’t quite tell. After a moment of thought, he took one hand out of his pocket and reached out to brush a bit of the thin layer of snow off this supposed street art.
Dean heard the footsteps returning after the most recent giant passed by. They shook the ground under him, how could he miss such rumbles?
Darting one glance towards the shadow he could see moving along the walkway, Dean pulled Sam closer, his arm protectively curled around his little brother’s body to keep him close. Whatever happened, he couldn’t afford to be split apart from Sam. After months in captivity, they’d escaped together, and had each other to rely on in a completely alien world from where they’d grown up. Dean refused to let Sam slip away from him after coming so far.
With the shadow rapidly approaching, it was for the best that Sam was out cold. There was even less of a chance that anyone would realize they were alive if they didn’t move, and the younger kid had less self-control than Dean.
The footsteps slowed and came to a stop about a foot away, and Dean saw the massive shape crouch down, looming over them both as the stranger leaned in to see them better. Shoes bigger than both brothers together crunched against the snow.
Dean stared up at the giant. Keen blue eyes looked them both over, vaguely interested and strangely piercing at the same time. He willed himself to keep still, trying so hard to avoid notice, but deep in his heart knew it was too late. Whoever this stranger was, he’d found them. If they were lucky, he’d pass them up as two broken toys on the street. If not… Dean hated to think of Sam back in that cage again.
His words from before, said to reassure Sam, were coming back to bite him as a hand reached for them.
@nightmares06 and @neonthewrite started writing A Lich of Sense February 28 of last year, so we’ve officially been writing together for just over one year!
No worries, I don’t think we draw too much attention to that timeline so it’d be easy to miss. It’s been a little over a year since the events of Bowman of Wellwood, by Bowman’s reckoning. He doesn’t keep a calendar, so he couldn’t tell you exact dates. 😉 Bowman is 19 years old in A Lich of Sense. Makes you wonder how Dean would react, knowing how young the little guy actually is, doesn’t it?
Brothers Apart 