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 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.

June 20th excerpt:

This movement caught Dean off guard, and left the smaller man clinging to the curls in surprise. “What did I say about movin?’ “ he scolded, frozen in place until he was absolutely certain Sherlock wasn’t going to knock him off. “This is hard enough already! I’d like to see you climb someone’s hair.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself and forcing any thought of how high up he was suspended in the air on a moving person, Dean started to climb again.

Only now, he put more effort into where his boots dug into Sherlock’s scalp. 

For traction.

June 19th excerpt:

“Just… don’t move,” Dean warned Sherlock severely.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

Before he could rethink his actions, Dean stood on his tiptoes on Sherlock’s shoulder, stretching to reach the black curls that cascaded down from above. Never once had Dean ever considered climbing up there, yet here he was.

June 18th excerpt:

As Sam was locked in his panic, the sounds of the world around him began to slip through the cracks. A murmur of voices in the brothers’ main room, Moira’s laugh. Distantly, Sherlock’s deep rumble as he argued with someone Sam couldn’t make out. Either a phone call–

–Or Dean.

June 17th excerpt:

“Dean.”

For the third time that morning, Dean found a voice by his side whispering his name with some urgency. The urge rose up in him to simply grab his blankets and tug them over his head, ignoring the rest of the world in favor of some much-needed sleep.

Yet Dean’s deepest nature prevented him from trying, and when the second “Dean!” came, he blinked open his eyes.

“Whu–“