July 17th excerpt:
Stomping to his feet while Sam recovered his equanimity, Dean hollered at the wall, “WHAT?! ” as he grabbed his boots and shoved them on, harder than he might normally.
Hearing the somewhat muffled reply, Sherlock stooped down to peer into the darkness between the books and the wall to keep an eye out for Dean.
Dean and his Sherlock, done by @justanothergiant, their art as wonderful as always! @A@
You can say a lot about these two, but they make quite a pair! Catch up on the shenanigans in The Study of the Four!
January 10th excerpt:
Sherlock leaned in as Dean moved away, shifting to his knees and propping a hand on the dirty floor for stability. He was trying to emulate Dean’s line of sight as closely as he could, and puzzle out just what his small companion thought he saw down there.
A small amount of odd discoloration in the dirt along the wall had just caught his eye as Dean looked over his shoulder in annoyance. “Do you have to hover?” he griped up at Sherlock, jerking his head at his shadowed path.
Sherlock’s brow furrowed, looking more than a little offended by the complaint. While he could see he was casting a shadow over Dean, the detective gave a small huff as he pushed himself to his feet. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he side-stepped out of the way of the light, letting it wash over Dean and his goal, and leaned a shoulder against the nearby wall. He gave a flat look and a shrug, as if to say That enough space for you?
January 9th excerpt:
Dean jabbed Sherlock in the neck. “Give me a hand,” he asked, hoping to avoid the trial of climbing down a human.
Sherlock blinked at the tiny pokes from the man on his shoulder, promptly lifting a hand for Dean to climb onto. Stan’s brow lifted a fraction as he watched the strange pair with unveiled curiosity. The action was so simple, yet it reminded Stan of just how small Dean Winchester actually was. Nearly all of Sherlock’s fingers outsized him, and somehow he could walk onto that hand seemingly without trepidation. Stan had to admire the amount of bravery that must take, entrusting someone so large with your fate.
“Where to?” Sherlock muttered, feeling rather like a taxi. A human taxi for a very small man. His eyes darted around the room, trying to follow Dean’s gaze in case he found something important.
January 5th excerpt:
“Dean! ” Sherlock called, cutting off John’s comment as he took long strides toward the kitchen. It was the most likely place they’d find the tiny man. Sherlock had no doubt the Winchesters’ food supply had been greatly depleted that night and would need to be refilled.
Biting back a cringe at the volume of Sherlock’s voice, John heaved a weary sigh as he followed his flatmate.
The silence in the kitchen shattered, Dean burst out from behind the glassware on the countertop, looking more frazzled than normal. His duffel was discernibly thicker than before, and a biscuit hung out of his other arm. Clearly, he had been busy in the time since they’d seen him last.
“What?! ” Dean hissed. “And, what the hell?! How do you possibly always know where I am? It’s ruining my mystique!”
December 28th excerpt:
Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at Dean as he listened. “Is that who you were chasing?” he asked, sharing none of Anita’s hesitancy.
John’s head snapped up. “Chasing?” he repeated. When did that happen?
“Who did you think I was chasing?!” Dean griped, his annoyance at Sherlock flooding back.
December 26th excerpt:
The detective frowned when he caught sight of the line leading from the opened cage to the floor, and the little shadow of what must have been Dean dashing from it.
Ignoring everything else, Sherlock closed the distance between himself and Dean easily, slamming down a hand like a barrier in front of him and scooping him up to eye level.
“What do you think you’re doing??” he demanded, more confused than anything else. Sherlock was not fond of the feeling.
December 24th excerpt:
“Hang on,” Sherlock warned Dean, giving him a second to brace himself before jumping up to catch the lowest rung of the escape stairs and drag them down to ground level.
“Holy–!”
Dean’s cry of surprise went unheeded in the swift motion as Sherlock jumped and snagged the ladder. The sensation of freefall was unwelcome for the smaller man, his fear of flying hitting him all at once when he felt himself become airborne as Sherlock dropped back down.
December 12th excerpt:
“I’ll show you,” Sherlock interrupted, shooting to his feet. He scooped Dean into his palm without further warning, whisking him into the main room before John could scold him.
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.
Brothers Apart 