December 6th excerpt:

The glass of whiskey was on Lestrade’s half of the table, guarded closely by one of the DI’s hands, but it hadn’t been picked up yet for a sip since being refilled. Dean gave himself at least five minutes before Lestrade remembered it, and started to edge towards that side of the table. Between Sherlock’s rambles and the drink buzzing inside him, Dean had an unnatural level of confidence in his ability to go unseen. The glass was only a little taller than he was, clearly he’d be able to reach the alcohol level inside to fill his cup again.

He’d earned this whiskey, dammit.

By the time he was halfway across the table, Dean had managed to tune both Sherlock and Lestrade completely out in lieu of his mission for a refill.