November 10th excerpt:

“We don’t need anyone’s charity!” he shot back instantly. “We made it this far on our own, you don’t have to look after us like some pets! ”

“Dean–“

Dean ignored Sam’s attempt to interrupt, plowing right through. “We’re not about to rely on handouts to feed ourselves. I kept us going when they set mousetraps in the walls, we always find–”

Dean!

November 8th excerpt:

Sam looked towards the table, his eyes glancing over the newspaper clippings that covered it. In his mind’s eye, he could conjure up an image of Dean, who would pick through those articles any night he could, working through Sherlock’s cases on his own and occasionally coming up with separate lines of inquiry.

He was always so proud when his ideas helped solve the cases.

Could Dean’s curiosity have lured him out into the open near Sherlock?

November 7th excerpt:

Sam leaned back, staring up at his work from the past several hours.

In his side of the house, the walls were covered in scrap pieces of paper. All carefully gathered over time, along with the collection of broken pencil tips scattered to the side. Sam had substituted these torn scraps for a journal of his own, and now had placed the latest piece of paper in its place.

It hung slightly askew, and with a frown Sam reached up to adjust it, trying to work the old scotch tape so it held fast. It didn’t quite work, sagging down to the other side.

November 6th excerpt:

With that obstacle overcome, Sherlock wasted no time in stepping out onto the street. His guard was immediately up, and he eyed each pedestrian that passed defensively. Perhaps this was what people referred to as having a chip on their shoulder.

In a way, Sherlock supposed he did have one.

November 5th excerpt:

Dean once again found himself eyeing something like it was a poisonous snake, coiled to strike. Yet it didn’t lash out, or make to grab at him. It sat there, almost taunting him.

Your move.

Dean Winchester was not about to back down after agreeing to go. He was a man of his word, and so he hitched up his duffel, gave one last glance to the flat around them, wondering if it would be his last, bade a silent farewell to Sam, and stepped onto the hand.

November 4th excerpt:

Shocked didn’t adequately describe how Dean felt about Sherlock’s offer.

Stunned, aghast, flustered… None of them came close. Maybe appalled, at himself, for actually finding that he was considering it.

Sam would kill me!

And yet, his mind entertained the possibilities.

November 3rd excerpt:

Dean couldn’t stop himself from snorting at how obtuse the client was on the phone, likewise assured that he couldn’t be heard from his spot in the corner of the room. “She might flee from that attitude,” Dean muttered under his breath, rolling his own eyes in a tiny mimic of Sherlock’s, though he remained riveted on the details of the case.

November 2nd excerpt:

John got up and crept up on Sherlock’s room. The door was open, so John walked right in and frowned at the scene. The detective had stripped his bookshelves of their contents, carefully arranged them on his bed, and was running his fingers over every crevice and corner of the shelves. He froze when he heard John enter.

“Snooping around, are we?” asked John flatly, crossing his arms.

November 1st excerpt:

“You know, they warned us about moving into this flat, but we thought they were exaggerating about Sherlock.” Sam laughed. “There was so much space in the walls, and plenty of room to work with, we figured we’d make it work. And helping with his cases is fun. We get to help people, one way or the other, just like Dad.”

“Oh God,” John chortled, letting his hand drop. He could only imagine what kinds of things– factual and rumor alike– that could be spread about the smaller community. The fact that there was a smaller community that knew about them, or Sherlock at the very least, was equally thrilling and weird to think about.