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.

November 16th excerpt:

“Could you pass me a pen?” Sherlock called without opening his eyes. This was not uncommon for him to do, John often claimed that the detective didn’t notice what was going on around him when he was deep in thought. And that was true, and it often left Sherlock speaking to an empty room. However, since meeting the Winchesters, he was always aware of extra hidden presences around, and he considered them on some level at all times. Calling at that volume, Dean could hear him fairly well, unless he was all the way down in Sherlock’s room.

And if he was in Sherlock’s room, Dean was in for strong words about privacy.

November 14th excerpt:

Once Sam was ready and waiting on John’s hand, not quite prepared to climb like the old days, he gave Dean a worried frown. “You can always come with us if you wanted,” he offered hesitantly.

Dean jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, towards the main room and Sherlock. “Someone’s gotta make sure things don’t get out of hand around here,” he said wryly, remembering the time Sherlock had started shooting up the walls (literally, with a gun) while John was out. “Go get some fresh air. You need it, kid. I’ve got some projects I can work on while you’re out of the way.”

Sam grinned. “Just don’t go tearing the place down around us.”

“No promises.”

Well, I mean–


Barely an hour had passed before Sherlock’s mobile rang, making Sherlock freeze in place and John’s head snap up to lock eyes with him. The detective whipped out the phone and checked the caller ID.

“It’s Mycroft,” he confirmed.

John’s brow arched. “That was fast–”

Dean! ” Sherlock called, cutting off John’s comment as he took long strides toward the kitchen.


Lestrade was more than a little frustrated, having drilled every single guard who’d had shifts since the day before, and all of them swore up and down that nothing had happened. None had let anyone into the crime scene for any reason since last Lestrade had been there. Storming back up the stairs, Lestrade swore that if Sherlock didn’t have a good reason for this…

Well, he didn’t know what he was gonna do, but he was sure it would come to him.

All feelings of exasperation were out the window as soon as Lestrade stormed in to find Sherlock flat on the floor near an air vent in the wall, giving him an almost feral look. He quirked an eyebrow at the detective until his gaze wandered to the small figure in front of him.

The small, shouting figure.


We totally haven’t not written this exact thing out already…

With #eotm the only remaining title to guess (along with the new excerpts that will be posting), #a:asocs is unlocked for everyone to enjoy!

Aftermath: A Series of Consulted Shorts

(This is why we didn’t think it would be guessed XD Definitely a different style)

Short stories and small occurrences are an important part of Sherlock Holmes, and Brothers Consulted is no different! Enjoy a sneak peek at our favorite short story from within, The Borrower and the Baker!


Stan’s brow went up when a small older woman with an apron and cleaning gloves on her hands answered the door, and he put on his most charming smile, shoving his hands casually into the pockets of his dark wool coat. Unlike the black suits he and his team were encouraged to wear under Mycroft’s direct instruction, Stan was on his own time today and decided to make this visit in his street clothes.

“Afternoon,” he amicably greeted the woman he knew to be the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, even though they had never formally met. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything, I was just hoping to speak with Mr. Holmes.”

Mrs. Hudson understood right away and let him inside, pointing him toward the stairs. He thanked her for her trouble and followed her directions, coming upon another door on the landing. It was closed, so he knocked and waited.

Sherlock Holmes answered the door after a moment, looking Stan up and down. Despite the hour, he was still in a dressing gown over an odd combination of a dress shirt and pyjama trousers. Recognizing him from their most recent adventure, the detective’s brow pinched.

“What is it?” he demanded bluntly, under the assumption that something must have happened or changed to cause Agent Baker to visit.

Stan made a move to unfasten his coat. “May I come in?”

Sherlock stepped aside, holding the door open for Stan as he entered and closing it behind him.

“Sorry for sort of barging in on you like this,” said Stan, shedding his coat and draping it over one arm, “but my team and I are in a bit of a bind and we need some advice.”

“Yes, yes, get to the point,” Sherlock grumbled impatiently.

Stan scratched at the back of his neck, a little hesitant. “Actually, sir, I was rather hoping to discuss this with Dean as well–”

Dean! ” Sherlock called to the seemingly empty room, knowing the smaller man would hear. Then he snatched a chair from the end table against the wall and placed it across from the fireplace, indicating that Stan should sit as he dropped into his own chair. Bemused, Stan did just that, laying his coat over the back of it before taking a seat, folding his hands in his lap while he waited.

They weren’t left waiting for long; it was only moments before there was movement deep in the bookshelf by John’s empty armchair.

There was very little dust left on the shelf from the time Sherlock removed all the books. This meant Dean didn’t get as messy when he passed through the crack that lead to their home. The old spiderwebs that had once draped over the area were gone as well, leaving him a clear path.

In annoyance, the little guy stormed out into plain sight. His leather jacket was hastily thrown on and his duffel bag hung askew, and he was glaring right at Sherlock when he came out into the light.

“You know, I’m right there, like two feet away,” Dean complained. “You’re gonna wake the dead one of these days, and the last thing we need to deal with is any vengeful spirits knocking on our doors along with all the rest of the problems going on.”

The sight of Stan sitting across from where Dean was standing brought him up short, not expecting anyone else in the flat. Dean scanned him up and down, evidently remembering the man from the late-night case two weeks ago. “Stan!” he called, his voice warmer than during his scolding of Sherlock. “Didn’t expect to see you droppin’ in!”

A smile broke through Stan’s bemusement regarding the situation as a whole. As strange as it was to watch the tiny man appear from the bookshelf and chastise someone so much larger than himself, it was good to see Dean again. He was the first and only tiny person Stan had ever met, and he would not forget their meeting anytime soon.

“Been a while,” Stan mused with a grin. “My team and I have been working round the clock the past few week, figured I’d stop in and give you an update.”

July 10th excerpt:

It wasn’t odd to hear movement from upstairs when John returned to Baker Street. It had been ages since Sherlock took a case, it was a miracle he’d lasted this long without breaking into one of his antsy episodes. What did catch his attention was a voice he didn’t recognize, giving a grunted exclamation every now and then.

Get back here, you li’l–! ” rang out when John reached the door, and it set every single one of his nerves on edge.

July 2nd excerpt:

Sherlock’s comment demanded a response. Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “Everything you do is faster than me, obviously,” he griped, throwing Sherlock’s favorite word right back at him. “Doesn’t mean you gotta rub it in all the time.”