"Alright!" The perky man in the ridiculous bow tie spun around to face them. "Let's see what we've got here for you!" The Winchester brothers took gaping looks around. The room inside was bigger than the booth on the outside...?
Dean passed a glance to Sam, one asking something along the lines of 'What the hell is with this joker?' Sam shrugged in return, and his eyes darted warily back to the other man. He seemed to be from England, what with the way he spoke.
"Oh, yes, here-" he tossed at long striped scarf in Dean's direction. "We-" a shoe flew from his hand to Sam, who caught it only after it hit him in the face. "Go!" And he did a three-sixty twirl and hopped down the odd metal stairs. He was wearing a fake black mustache.
"Uh... What's this for?" Sam asked, politely though circumstances were different from their usual. This witness seemed to be a couple rungs short of a ladder.
"Disguises!" He shouted back, the grin on his face reassured them that he was, indeed, insane beyond measure.
"Yeah," Dean tossed the scarf aside. "Only, we don't need disguises. We only got into your loony-box so you could tell us what you saw last night!" He was getting impatient. Sam wondered whether or not to shush him.
"Well why didn't you say so?"
"You told us you had seen-"
"Come over and sit! Please!" The daft man gestured to a few swivel chairs attached to the floor up the stairs. He didn't wait to see if they followed, he flounced away. He didn't turn around, either, just played with some levers on the machine in the center.
"Who are you?" Sam asked, quirky half-smile as he bobbed his head towards the door. 'Dean, he's crazy, we should leave. Like, now!' His brother couldn't agree more.
"I'm The Doctor." And he pulled a piece down the counter. "And might I suggest holding onto something?"
The Winchesters had been backing towards the door when a suddent jolt rocked the room. They nearly fell, only clutching to each-other's shoulders stopped them from tumbling about as everything shook.
"What did I just say?" The Doctor asked, pushing colorful buttons and rotating wheels.
"The fuck are you doing?" "What's going on?" The brothers asked in unison, pulling themselves up with the stair railing.
"We're traveling! I'm a traveler! We're on our way to see a friend of mine-odd fellow, horrible people skills,"
"Oh, could you pull that lever? I can't reach it."
Dean shot The Doctor a glare, and ascended the stairs to the machine. "Which one?" There were ten of those things.
"That one there!" He flopped to the screen hanging from the top of this weird tube thing. He pointed with one hand and slapped the bar with the other.
"What are you, a fish?"
"Dean!"
Dean pulled the lever, and with a grinding noise the room stopped moving.
"Okay!" The Doctor stood up and straightened his suit's jacket. "Now, let's go."
"Go where?" Sam asked, "We're on the same street corner we were a minute ago!" He watched the loon walk to the door and knock on it.
"We're inside moron! Why are you knocking?" Dean huffed, noticing he was still wearing the mustache. Sam was still holding the shoe.
"Shhhh. I don't know what time it is," The Doctor knocked on the door again. After nodding and muttering something about impatient hunters, he pushed open the door. He stepped out, gesturing for the two passengers to follow him. Dean and Sam exchanged another look, and followed him out.
"Hello?" The doctor called, quietly. Sam's mouth nearly hit the floor. How had they moved? There weren't any wheels, and certainly no way to get up stairs. "Sherlock? John? Oh.. and what was her name...?"
A short blond man with weary eyes and a look that suggested he just got out of bed trudged down the stairs. He flipped on the lights and blinked while his eyes adjusted to the change.
"John Watson! So good to see you again!" The Doctor bounded to his side and shook his hand, though it hadn't been offered in the first place. "Where's Sherlock gone?"
Dean was dumbfounded, Sam equally so, but he snapped out of his trance-like mindset and looked out the window. It was dark outside, save for street lights. "Where...?"
"Oh right! First-time travelers! Boys, welcome to 221 Baker Street, it's in England. This here is my dear friend John Watson." He gestured to the man beside him, asleep on his feet.
"Doctor... Would a more decent hour have been-" John started.
"Oh no. Sherlock sent me a text. Said to bring me the Winchesters. Said he needed them. Where is he?" The Doctor had been spinning around and poking things around the room while he spoke. "Oh, John, did you redecorate?"
"Sherlock hasn't been home in a couple of days, Doctor. He went with Lestrade to a rather difficult investigation..." He rubbed his eyes and straightened up.
"Oh no, no. No this isn't good. This is bad." The Doctor rubbed the skull on the mantle. "Where is the investigation?"
"Not too far." John slouched into an armchair. "I'm sure you'll find him eventually." He was already falling back to sleep.
"Hold up, hold on," Dean stepped up, holding out his hands and shaking his head. "Hey, Box Boy, mind explaining what's going on?" Sam nodded. The Doctor spun back. John seemed to only then notice their presence.
"Oh, who are they?"
"Either of you know how to make coffee?"
"What? Uh. Yeah, of course." Sam piped up. John pointed over his shoulder to the kitchen.
"Okay," The Doctor turned back to John. Damn that man liked spinning. "John, these two are Sam and Dean Winchester. Sherlock told me to bring them here, soon. So I did. But where is he?"
"I told you, he's with Lestrade." He rubbed his temples and stood. "Anderson has the files, they told me to stay home- God the floor is cold."
"Hey, uh, you have a bag of... distilled blood in your cabinet?" Sam called over from the kitchen, looking intently around their stove for coffee. He hoped that wasn't it.
"Experiment!" John called back. He was awake now. "Nevermind, it's fine."
"Great! Now, please tell me that Anderson isn't that mole-faced one with the hair-slick addiction." The Doctor pleaded, studying the room. Paper everywhere. They needed to clean this up. That woman renting them room wasn't their housekeeper, they should learn to clean after themselves.
"Yeah, that's him."
"Anybody know how we come into this?" Dean asked, and the two stopped chatting to look at him.
"Didn't I tell you? Sherlock Holmes-brilliant man, a little on the rude side-told me to bring you here."
"And? Who is he?"
"Wait-" Sam shut the cabinets and stepped back into the sitting room. "The Sherlock Holmes?"
"Huh? Is there more than one?" John asked, sarcastically.
"John!"
"Sorry."
"Okay, Nerdballs, tell me. Who is this guy?" Dean asked, starting to feel more comfortable in the situation. Enough to name-call, and that was comfortable enough.
Sam wasn't happy about being called Nerdballs, but he answered anyway. "Sherlock Holmes is a consulting detective, Dean. He works cases the police can't figure out."
Dean snorted. "What the hell is a consulting detective?"
"He made it up. He's paid, but only for jobs he wants. Random people can come to them with things they think are wrong, and he'll either tell them to fuck off or he'll solve it." Sam was gushing. A hero of the modern world, the world's first and only consulting detective. And he'd asked for them?
"Unless he can't. Solve it, I mean."
"He's never missed a case." The Doctor piped in. Dean shot him another glare. "Well it's true!" He backed up as if personally offended."
"What does Mister Big-Shot want with us?" Dean folded his arms over his chest.
"Didn't I mention? He's having a bit of a demon problem."