Author's Note: This is my very first attempt at writing a fanfic. Hopefully someone will like it. If they do, I will continue writing the story. Any reviews are greatly appreciated :D
Chapter One: A Man Talking to a Skull
"Just get rid of it, dearie. It pains you to look at it; I can see it in your eyes."
"If only it were that easy, Mrs. Hudson," John Watson thought to himself, reflecting back on the conversation the two of them had in the flat earlier that day. She had wanted him to throw away Sherlock's trusty skull, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
"I'm sorry, is that a skull?" asked Dean Winchester from beside him. The unfamiliar male voice shook John from his reverie. Suddenly he was back at the bar, a half-empty glass in front of him.
"What are you doing?" Castiel whispered to Dean.
He turned to face Cas. It had been months since the last time he saw him wear a trench coat, but Dean still couldn't get over the sight of him without it. "I'm asking the man why he brought a skull into a bar. I don't know about you, but I find that a little weird."
"Can't you see he's upset?"
Before Dean could reply, the bartender, a woman named Joyce, appeared before them. She stared at John as she refilled his glass of whiskey. "I know you from somewhere," she affirmed.
"I doubt it," John dismissed.
Joyce peered closely at him. "You're that detective, Sherlock Holmes. No, wait, his partner." Her face lit up with recognition. "You're John Watson. I remember reading an article about you while on vacation in London. What are you doing all the way here in Connecticut? And where is that genius friend of yours, anyway?"
"He's dead," John replied flatly.
She blanched. "I'm…I'm so sorry to hear that." Joyce offered him an apologetic smile before scampering to the other end of the bar.
Holmes. Castiel frowned at the name. It sounded awfully familiar. "Say something to him," Cas urged.
"Say what?" Dean asked. "You really haven't adjusted to the whole human thing yet, have you? Can't you see he wants to be alone?"
"The man is talking to a skull. He clearly wants company."
"As fun as it sounds, we don't really have time to stay and chat. We're supposed to be meeting up with Sammy. We should probably get going now actually…" He stood up to leave.
"He might be able to help us," Cas suggested. "Besides, Sam is meeting us here."
"Help us how? By spiraling us into depression? I don't think so."
Cas fixed him with a tender expression. "What if it were you sitting there?"
"I would tell us to leave me the hell alone."
"What if it were Sam? If he was sitting alone at a bar in complete desolation wouldn't you want someone to…care?"
Dean set his jaw. "Fine. But if he starts speaking for the skull, I'm out of here." Dean straddled the stool next to the man. Cas claimed the seat on the other side of him.
"We were hoping you could help us," Dean announced.
John glanced at him for a fraction of a second before returning his gaze to his glass. "We…I don't do that anymore."
"You don't help people?" Dean snapped. Cas elbowed him.
"Cases. I don't do cases anymore." John pushed himself into a standing position.
"Even if we agree to help you find your partner?" Dean was surprised to hear Cas speak.
"Sherlock is dead," John insisted.
Castiel's face softened. "What if he's not?"
