124 words on the fake IDs in superwholock. Purely a filler sort of nonsense.
"I can't believe they let you in to anywhere," Dean sighed. "It's not your ID! It's literally an ID you stole off of someone who looks nothing like you!"
"You're one to speak," Sherlock scoffed, yanking the IDs out of Dean's hands. "Freddie Mercury? Bikini inspector?"
Dean shrugged. "At least it's my picture."
"It's says you're a female."
Dean shrugged again. "Details."
"Clearly mine's superior," the Doctor boasted.
"Yes, except that you are at the whim of the imagination of whoever you are trying to fool," Sherlock pointed out.
"And psychic paper doesn't work on demons or angels," Dean added.
"Does your ID work on demons or angels?" Sherlock asked.
"Well… technically… look, they know my face. That doesn't count!"
Sherlock just raised his eyebrows.
Don't judge too hard. This was definitely written past my bedtime.
A message from your author: Sometimes the words in your head don't connect to the words on the paper. Sometimes I feel like I write perfect paragraphs in my brain but connect them with shots of pure emotion that don't quite translate. Fellow writers?