There it was again. Another mention of Sam and Dean’s childhood, possibly a history with other humans. Simply recalling Dean’s reference to someone dislocating Sam’s shoulder in their youth made John’s half-full stomach turn. But it didn’t take a detective to see that Sam was still quite shy and nervous around John, another human, so he filed that away for another time.
Though something in him doubted ‘another time’ would ever come.
“Can I ask where you’re from?” John ventured, trying to keep up a friendly tone. “It’s just, the accent is a little…telling.”
“We’re not supposed to accept food from anyone,” Sam said, giving a valiant effort to tell John why he couldn’t just say yes. He swallowed thickly, wondering if he was ruining his one chance to have food that wasn’t snitched from the cupboards or days old. “I didn’t do anything to earn the food, and we don’t have anything we can give you for it.”
John chewed his lip while Sam talked himself in circles. To an extent, he could understand why the poor lad was reluctant to accept the offered food. He’d made a point in emphasizing that he and his brother were most certainly not pets.
Where exactly they learned that sentiment in the first place was not a thought John was prepared to have just yet. Not with more pressing matters at hand. As a doctor, John felt it was imperative for Sam and Dean to broaden their diets, which would only benefit their survivability in the long run. At the same time, he needed to make sure they didn’t feel like they were just getting handouts from the bigger folk.
John started up the heat on the stove, then went to turn on the electric kettle. That’s when he noticed the saucer and froze. A small plate had been set out in the middle of the counter, one edge dotted with tiny scraps of food. John leaned over to find a raisin, a bit of cracker, a dollop of mustard, a few pieces of wheat cereal, and a raw slice of mushroom. He sighed, realizing that this was Sherlock’s idea of an experiment.
After double-checking for traps, John decided there really was no harm in it, and decided to concentrate on how best to fry the eggs and bacon as quietly as possible.
Dean tried to give Sam a grin through the glass. “See Sammy? Told ya I’d take care of it. No more cages for us.” He put a hand against the inside of the jar, and Sam instinctively placed his own against it. Even standing on the bottom of the glass jar, Dean was the shorter brother.
“My name’s John,” he stated, speaking only to Sam. “I’m a doctor. And I’m afraid I can’t let you out of my sight until I know for sure that neither of you needs medical attention. If you would let me examine you, then as long as you’re alright I will let you go on your way.”
“You’ll have to forgive me,” Dean said tartly, refusing to relent, “if I find that a little hard to believe that while I’m stuck in a jar.” He shot a glare back at where Sherlock was standing behind his friend. “We were doing fine before a certain someone decided to go all King Kong on us and stuff us into jars!”
Ahhhh, we’re just as excited! It’s been so much fun plotting out a story with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson around for the ride (Protect John Watson 4ever, I just started watching the show).
@nightmares06 – I think the most fun part of BC has been the character dynamic between these four. Dean and Sherlock get off to such a great start, and John Watson is just the most cinnamon roll around. This group will be butting heads from the start, that’s for sure.
@borrowedtimeandspace – Giant John has always held a place in my heart. It was one of my favorite dynamics to read about when Sherlock gt was popular a few years ago. Being able to write not only him but giant Sherlock as well has been both nostalgic and an absolute joy, and Sam and Dean are fantastic characters to bounce these tol dorks off of.
“John,” Sherlock greeted, sparing a glance in his flatmate’s direction. That split second was more than enough for Sherlock to register the confusion, utter shock and disbelief fighting for attention on the doctor’s face as he stared.
At the sound of the second human coming into the room, Dean backed himself against the far wall of the jar. He pulled out his hook, wielding it as a backup weapon and knowing it wouldn’t do much if he needed to defend himself. That didn’t matter; if he was going down, he was going down fighting. There was no way to know how this human would react. The first one’s reaction was bad enough.
Sam could feel the weight of the gaze on him double in intensity, and he tried to make himself seem smaller. He put his hand on his own weapon, using the feeling of the hilt in his hand as an anchor. If they tried anything, he could defend himself. It didn’t matter if it was useless, it was better than being trapped in a beaker or a jar.
Dean jabbed his hook in Sherlock’s direction. “Just because we’re trapped like rejects from Land of the Giants doesn’t mean we’ll answer your questions like good little captives,” he growled, refusing to show any weakness in front of the new giant. “Now let my brother go.”
John blinked hard, trying to force the hallucination out of his sight. It had to be that, or Sherlock drugged his tea again… But no. One of the little figures spoke quite harshly to Sherlock. At the mention of a brother, John’s eyes darted to the large beaker. He’d almost missed the other person entirely, curled as he was into a ball of stress and fear.
“Oh God,” he breathed. These were people. Much smaller than average, but people all the same.
He walked numbly forward, a million questions flying around his head at once. The more pressing one stuck out just as he came to stand next to the seated detective.
“Sherlock, what have you done?” he demanded, his attention split between his sociopathic friend and his captives.
Brothers Apart 