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.”
Name: John Hamish Watson
Age: 37
Height: 5′6″ || 3.47″
Species: Human
Eye Color: Blue-grey
Hair Color: Sandy blond
Gender: Male
Known Abilities: Trained as an Army doctor at St. Bart’s Hospital, John can break every bone in your body while naming them. His combat training is sharp, his reflexes quick, and he’s an expert marksman. Knows Morse code, and won’t hesitate to pull rank if he needs to (Captain John Watson does have a nice ring to it).
Background: After a three year tour in Afghanistan, John returned to London and soon met the mysterious Sherlock Holmes, who seemed to know everything about him. He was drawn in by curiosity and the detective’s promise of danger, and soon they were an inseparable pair.
As pointed out by Mycroft Holmes, John is an adrenaline junkie and misses the fast-paced action of war, but he has a heart of gold and can’t sit idly by while people need help. He’s well-settled with his action-packed life with Sherlock, and adding on a pair of Winchesters will only increase the drama.
Quotes: Christ, send the man a ruddy email and let me sleep!
Artwork by @mogadeer
Name: William Sherlock Scott Holmes
Age: 33
Height: 6′0″ || 3.79″
Species: Human
Eye Color: Blue-green
Hair Color: Black
Gender: Male
Known Abilities: Heightened powers of observation and deduction. Stores memories, factoids, and any possibly useful information in a “mind palace”. Moderately versed in defensive combat (as well as most subjects and practices he finds useful). Has a degree in Chemistry, which he utilizes forensically, and plays the violin skillfully when he’s thinking.
Background: Sherlock’s path to becoming the world’s only consulting detective began when he was a schoolchild, kicking up a fuss about the death of Carl Powers, later revealed to be a murder. Later on, his unusual skills in deduction and observation married to his degree in chemistry and his morbid fascination with the human body and its weaknesses made him the ideal candidate to be consulted by the police for particularly baffling cases.
He thinks logically and understands humanity to the point that he grasps patterns in their behavior, but he is clueless on an individual, social basis. He effortlessly, usually unintentionally, infuriates people and declares himself a high-functioning sociopath, though his is mostly to stave off the insinuation that he’s a psychopath.
Quotes: I applaud you for your maturity!
Artwork by @mogadeer
They are the sweetest group! Sam at ten and Dean at fourteen meeting our much-younger John Watson who’s still training to be a doctor!
Who better to take care of those kids after they’ve been captured and branded for sale…
Things on the side of the walk weren’t an unusual sight at all, especially in John’s part of town. There was always a little rubbish someone missed, toys or other belongings some kid might have dropped earlier in the day that got swept aside.
So when John noticed a small figure huddled against the wall, his gaze downturned thanks to the precipitation, he passed right by it with hardly a question.
A few steps away was a crossing, which had just turned in the direction that John wasn’t heading, so he shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh and waited patiently for the light.
Boredom struck quickly, and curiosity brought his attention sliding back the way he’d come, to that strange figure in the snow. He didn’t understand why until he thought about it; whatever it was, was small enough to be a toy. But a fallen toy wouldn’t manipulate itself in such a position.
Curiosity won out, and with a glance back at the traffic lights, John meandered his way back to check out what was over there.
Frowning thoughtfully, John crouched down for a better look. He wasn’t around children often, but he’d never seen toys quite like these.
It seemed to be two figures, clinging to each other in the snow. Too lifelike to be simple playthings, and he couldn’t see any telltale joint mechanisms to allow for movement. Perhaps it was some kind of subtle art piece, a political statement maybe.
They looked an awful lot like kids.
John couldn’t quite tell. After a moment of thought, he took one hand out of his pocket and reached out to brush a bit of the thin layer of snow off this supposed street art.
Dean heard the footsteps returning after the most recent giant passed by. They shook the ground under him, how could he miss such rumbles?
Darting one glance towards the shadow he could see moving along the walkway, Dean pulled Sam closer, his arm protectively curled around his little brother’s body to keep him close. Whatever happened, he couldn’t afford to be split apart from Sam. After months in captivity, they’d escaped together, and had each other to rely on in a completely alien world from where they’d grown up. Dean refused to let Sam slip away from him after coming so far.
With the shadow rapidly approaching, it was for the best that Sam was out cold. There was even less of a chance that anyone would realize they were alive if they didn’t move, and the younger kid had less self-control than Dean.
The footsteps slowed and came to a stop about a foot away, and Dean saw the massive shape crouch down, looming over them both as the stranger leaned in to see them better. Shoes bigger than both brothers together crunched against the snow.
Dean stared up at the giant. Keen blue eyes looked them both over, vaguely interested and strangely piercing at the same time. He willed himself to keep still, trying so hard to avoid notice, but deep in his heart knew it was too late. Whoever this stranger was, he’d found them. If they were lucky, he’d pass them up as two broken toys on the street. If not… Dean hated to think of Sam back in that cage again.
His words from before, said to reassure Sam, were coming back to bite him as a hand reached for them.
(Artwork by @soluscheese! <3)
You nailed it!
In this one, Sam and Dean don’t escape from their captivity like they did in BC– at least, not as fast as they did in BC. They remain trapped long enough to be branded and their training begun, prepping them for sale. It’s during an escape attempt gone wrong that the well-meaning doctor-in-training stumbles over them, finding two children where he thought two tiny dolls were lying abandoned on the sidewalk.
Sneak peek coming shortly!
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…
Brothers Apart 