And the winner is…

A Burglary at Baker Street!

Sam and Dean Winchester have struck up a deal with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. The brothers will offer their help solving cases, in return for living in the flat and sharing in the food John brings home.

This all sounds well and good, until it’s the Winchesters that end up needing Sherlock’s services for his next case… 


Brothers Consulted pulled away from Brothers Lost in the poll, and so we’ll be seeing the return of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in the multiverse!

A reminder to everyone that when A Burglary at Baker Street ends, there will be no poll. Instead, There’s No Place Like Home will begin posting, and after that story wraps up we’ll return to the poll with all new options in it!

And now, a special sneak peek of the story that begins January 2nd, 2019!

Dean gestured for Sherlock to give him a hand. “Well, what are we waiting for, then?”

Sherlock smirked and proffered a hand for Dean, smoothly ferrying the elder Winchester to his shoulder. With Dean settled, Sherlock turned to face the room, not entirely sure of what to expect. And for once, the uncertainty wasn’t irritating, but exciting.

“Where to, Winchester?” he queried, awaiting Dean’s instruction.

Dean was silent for a long moment. He very rarely tried to actively use the ability. Mostly it just happened. They needed food, and he would suddenly just know where to go. Questioning it when their lives depended on the ability seemed like looking a gift horse in the mouth.

As he focused, the prickles on the back of his neck began to grow more prominent. His surroundings dropped away. He no longer noticed the rhythmic cadence of a pulse that throbbed through Sherlock’s neck next to him, and the steady sound of breathing, air rushing in and out of Sherlock’s lungs, was gone. It was like he was standing next to Sam once more, trying to hurriedly clear his mind and listen to Sam’s constant litany of ‘advice’ for how to do it.

With focus came clarity, and Dean found himself pointing before he realized his hand was moving.

Psychic freak slipped into his mind and he angrily crushed the thought as he told Sherlock, “That way.”

Sherlock almost didn’t notice the tiny hand, but he frowned when he tracked its path with his eyes. Dean was pointing at the door out of the flat.

The detective’s steps were halting as he approached the door, confused about what Dean was supposed to be leading him to. At his right, John entered the main room from the kitchen, a biscuit in one hand and the morning paper in the other. John paused as he noticed Sherlock’s odd movements, eyeing his flatmate as he sank into his armchair.

Sherlock slowly wrapped his hand around the doorknob, wishing he could look at Dean questioningly.

Dean didn’t notice the odd looks John was shooting at the strange pair from his armchair, unknowingly placed beside the nook in the walls the brothers had chosen for their home. If Dean spared a thought for where it was placed, he imagined it was just about at John’s eye level while sitting.

But right now, his thoughts were all tied up with the feeling on the back of his neck. After years of stubbornly ignoring the ones that were out of reach, it seemed that giving it his full attention had brought it flooding around him, more important than anything else. He needed it, and this was his chance to finally see what, and where, the thing was that was pulling at him in London.

When Sherlock didn’t open the door, Dean felt his impatience come to the fore. “Well?” he burst out. “We’re doing this, right? Or was this just some test run?”


Artwork by @justanothergiant!

November 8th excerpt:

Struck by a thought, John carefully reached a hand toward the brothers, extending a finger to Dean with an amiable look in his eye. “Shake on it?”

Dean recoiled from the hand, his eyes darting from the extended finger up to John’s expression to read his intent. Spotting nothing but honesty in the planes of John’s face, he hesitantly reached forward.

As his hand approached the waiting finger, Dean’s much smaller fingers brushed against the thick skin and flinched. Reaching forward again, Dean gripped John’s fingertip, finding his entire hand inadequate to cover the entire surface. Using that same determination, Dean reached out with his second hand as well, clasping the rest of John’s fingertip and a bit of his nail, the rigid surface ungiving between Dean’s hands as he shook them up once, then down.


October 8th excerpt:

Gently scooping Dean off his shoulder, Stan gave a small smirk and asked, “Where to, Mr. Winchester?” He didn’t want to assume where Dean would prefer to be to start out.

@enby-phoenix replied to your post:

Such a polite bean.

Stan absolutely is! He’s the most polite Brit, and he’ll always offer a cuppa!

But I think this time, calling Dean such a formal name might be somewhat of an inside joke between them, considering how they first met.

Bonus excerpt:

“Mr. Holmes,” the man greeted. Sherlock hummed to himself, noting the distinct lack of an Irish dialect.

The man’s brow shot up when he caught sight of the tiny figure contrasting the deep blue folds of Sherlock’s scarf.

“And… Mr. Winchester?” he guessed at length.

Dean straightened in place, letting the scarf fall down from his shoulders so more of him could be seen. “Mister Winchester is my dad,” he corrected, his voice level and even to avoid betraying any nerves. “You can call me Dean.”

October 4th excerpt:

“You go on and eat up now, alright? I’ll fetch you another water and be right back. Sound good?”

Sam nodded numbly, mechanically reaching for another bit of egg. There wasn’t much in him to protest, and he didn’t much want to. His energy was sapped from the outburst of emotion, leaving him to eat the food, more tasteless now that he felt drained. He ate for energy and nutrition instead of enjoyment.

October 3rd excerpt:

“Do you have a napkin?” Sam asked, momentarily breaking out of his reverie. “It’ll be like a picnic blanket I can wipe my hands with.”

John perked up and his eyes darted back to Sam as the boy spoke up. His suggestion had been considered in passing as John worked, but it was admittedly a little endearing to have it described like a picnic blanket.

October 2nd excerpt:

John popped a slice of bread into the toaster, putting it on a light setting. Just enough to get it crispy on the outside. By the time that was done, the eggs were, too, and he put those on the plate with the bacon. Separately, he took a small cutting knife and took a small rectangle off one corner and split it into two squares. These he pressed thin with the flat of his knife, to make them easier for Sam and Dean to handle.

August 27th excerpt:

John started with the bacon, setting a small pan on the stovetop and placing on it two strips once it was hot. He almost put more on in consideration of his guests, but then he remembered that their portions would amount to crumbs compared to his own. He wouldn’t miss anything he took from his own meal if he gave it to the brothers.

While those sizzled in the background, John cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl and started mixing them up with a fork, meandering back to check on Sam. “Found ya some cherry tomatoes,” he reported warmly.

Sam brightened up, distracted from his wanderings on the table. “I love those!”

August 25th excerpt:

Turning back to the nightstand, John’s heart gave a little stutter to see Sam so close to the edge of the nightstand. “You okay?” he blinked, not quite yet putting two and two together.

Sam’s lips turned down into a frown. “I can’t follow you,” he said disconsolately, rubbing the sole of his boot over a mark on the nightstand’s surface. It was wider than his boot, but so relatively small to everything else.

July 18th excerpt

Given their initial training session, Sherlock was certain that Stan had more to fear from Dean than vice versa.

That decided, Sherlock pushed himself to stand once again, glancing at Dean once before striding away to gather a few supplies.

“Try not to break him this time,” he chided Dean over his shoulder as he sifted through the equipment on his worktable.

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.