November 18th excerpt:
Up. Down. Up again. Why does everything require climbing.
Resigned, Dean started his climb down, griping all the way.
“Y’know, I have half a mind to go back and grab one of Sam’s pencil tips,” Dean complained to the open air of the flat. “He’d notice in a second that it was gone, but it would be worth the look on your face when you either have to use a scrap of pencil to write with or get up and get your own damn pen that’s like five feet away.”
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 15th excerpt:
Dean reached the little home in the walls near John’s armchair and let out a sigh, taking in the silence.
For the first time since moving into 221B Baker Street, he was all alone in their home.
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.”
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.”
June 30th excerpt:
Breathing deeply as he sank into the armchair adjacent to the bookshelf, Stan hesitantly copied Dean’s hand position and moved it closer to the smaller man like a platform. “Don’t worry, I keep clean hands,” he quipped to hide his anxiety behind a smirk.
“Good, ‘cause the last thing I want is to end up smelling like Cheese Curls,” Dean quipped back, hiding his nerves the same as Stan, aided by the fact that his face, so much smaller than the others, was much harder to read. Thus far, he’d only ever allowed Sherlock and John to hold him.
June 29th excerpt:
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.”
June 28th excerpt:
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.
June 24th excerpt:
“You okay?” John called softly, opening the door a crack to peer in at the small person within.
Caught off guard by the unexpected flood of light, Dean stumbled to his feet, one arm half-raised in defense with his other hand diving for his knife. Years of instincts developed from his current size had combined with the wariness he’d learned from his father, putting him constantly on edge and ready to act at a moment’s notice.
Realizing who was there, Dean’s eyes narrowed and he felt the tension leave his back. It was just John, and he meant well, despite how startling he could be.
Brothers Apart 