Hello guys! Tell me what you think of this, won't you?

This takes place, for Dean and Sam, right after their father's death.
I love supernatural though I am not fully versed in everything about them, as the seasons are long and there are a lot of them I haven't got up with just yet, so in this case, it will just be the brother's on a short trip, meant to be a vacation.
For Sherlock and John, it is of course The Hounds of Baskerville, EXCEPT, I am changing up the plot a little bit.
Not sure how long this story will be, but there will be long chapters.
This first one is short though, just because I'd like to know what you think.
Personally I am proud of the cover I made, ;) heehee

Chapter 1

Sherlock was on edge, and John was feeling his wrath. It was like putting a tiger in a cage and prodding it with a stick continuously until you finally get a reaction out of it. The tiger's reaction: Sherlock's reaction. One in the same.

He'd already tried to resort to cigarettes, to which John was firm in stating he was unsure of their location. He was quite positive Sherlock could see right through him, but he didn't care. As long as the consulting detective didn't get to them, all would be fine. He'd already scared Ms. Hudson off with his harpoon of all things, yelling deductions at her about one Mr. Chatterjee. He'd spat out every little thing he managed, the fact that she's been at the scratch cards again, that she was wearing a perfume way to racy for the time of day and occasion, and that her new date had a wife somewhere off in Doncaster. She'd ran away, most likely cursing him under her breath and John had just sighed, tried to persuade Sherlock to apologize, but in turn had just been insulted. John thought he was about to lose it, until the bell rang, and Sherlock was squealing with effortless bliss, preparing himself for a new case, as John got to his feet, waddling toward the door. He'd answered to a small man, ovalish face, rather large ears, and faint light, brown hair atop his head. He seemed utterly nervous as he gazed at Watson, a duffle bag draped over his shoulder.

"I'm here for Sherlock Holmes?" He questioned his supposed-to-be statement, twiddling his fingers anxiously. John had nodded and ushered him inside, telling him to get comfortable. Sherlock only stared, watching their new client with immense concentration, like a lion glaring at a gazelle, eager to pounce (in Sherlock's case, eager to get on with the deductions). John wasn't sure why he kept comparing his flat mate to wild cats.

"What's your name?" John asked politely as he set a cup of tea down in front of the oddly terrified man. He took it carefully and immediately took a sip, a small smile twitching on his expression. "Henry. Henry Knight."

"I can't believe you dragged me to England." Dean mumbled angrily, as he pulled his suitcase along with him, Sam trailing shortly behind.

"Hey, Dean, it's just a vacation, as I said before-" Dean cut his brother off, "Yeah, yeah, we need some time away. Got it." He found his eyes traveling over to every stewardess located in the rather large airport, all of which smiled back at him, causing him to smirk widely in his own pride.

Sam only huffed from behind, as they marched onward. They approached the exit; trotting up to the doors, pushing them open, and stepping out into the cool air. Dean sniffed his nose as the wind brushed past him, the frigid sensation sending shivers up his arms. Sam took the lead, inching in front of him as a small taxicab pulled up, black and white, with a faint touch of yellow.

He sighed, "This is weird."

Sam narrowed his eyes, taking Dean's luggage from him as he stuffed their things into the trunk. "What's weird?"

Dean groaned and shook his head, pulling open the taxi door. "Not driving in the Impala."

Sam smiled as his brother disappeared into the depths of the cab. He pushed the trunk closed and followed after him.

~oOo~

They approached the small inn. Sam had decided on Dartmoor of all places. Google had said it was quiet, reserved, secluded and very outdoorsy. Dean was pretty sure Sam wanted to drag him on some nature hike. He would certainly kick and scream his way out of that one. The décor in this small motel/hotel, whatever you want to call it, was certainly old. Dean cringed as he gazed at the antique bar, of all things. Hopefully the drinks weren't the same. A strange looking man, rather plump, with faint wrinkles, and dark brown-gray hair, stood at the lobby desk, keyholes behind him for vacant rooms. Sam clutched his luggage and swayed up to him carefully and cautiously, as Sam always did, Dean noted.

The man instantly smile at the sight of him and bobbed his head slightly, "Welcome."

Dean saw another man running rapid in the back, appearing as though he was a chef or a baker, wearing a red ascot and a white sheet for a shirt, or so it seemed.

"Yeah, can we get a room, please?" Sam asked awkwardly, causing Dean to roll his eyes in exhaustion.

"Ah, American. What brings you out here?" The man asked as he and Sam exchanged cash.

"Vacation." Sam sighed and Dean scoffed gently in the back.

"Double room, then?" The man winked with an innocent smile. Sam's eyes widened and he glanced back at Dean. Dean suppressed a smirk.

"No, thanks." Sam replied awkwardly with a small nod of his head.

The man shrugged his shoulders took the money and a moment later handed him the key. "There you go, then."

Dean swayed around and about the small lobby, before his eyes caught sight of a map tucked under a 'For Guest's' sign.
"What's the skull and crossbones about?" Dean asked with narrowed eyes. Sam turned around and squinted at the pamphlet in Dean's hand, notching the small black dot and skeletal head on top in contrast. The man drew his chin forward, eyes dazzling as if he was about to share a secret.

"The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it. It's the Baskerville testing site. It's been going for eighty-odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there any more."

Dean glanced over at Sam with an intrigued expression, ushering the man onward.

He grinned and continued, "Break into that place and – if you're lucky – you just get blown up, so they say ... in case you're planning on a nice wee stroll."
He teased and sighed wearily, "It buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound!"

Sam froze, and Dean took a step forward. "Demon what?"

The man behind the desk chuckled and leaned back in surprise, "The demon hound? Dartmoor's mascot, if you will?"

Dean shook his head to the man's questioning look, and Sam grunted, inching closer, "What do you mean demon hound?"

The man nodded with a wide smile, eager to share the information, "Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell. When he was a kid, his father was found dead on the moors. Poor kid was convinced he saw a giant hound rip him to shreds. The people living here think something must have escaped from Baskerville," The man shrugged and arched his eyebrows, "There's a documentary about it."

Sam visibly swallowed and gazed at his brother. He then stepped forward, "Every seen it? The hound?"
The lobby-working man shook his head, "Me? No."
Dean was unsettled by the spewing amounts of information. Vacation? Sure.

The other man came around the corner, the one who looked like a chef, his nametag revealing the name Billy.

"I'm just saying we've been rushed off our feet." The man mocked and turned to Billy.

The chef nodded with a sharp grunt, "Gary's right. Lots of monster-hunters. Doesn't take much these days. One mention on Twitter and oomph."

Sam turned to Dean, eyes wide with concern, and almost amusement at the irony of the situation.
Billy then said something about business, receiving a statement from Gary, and then whirled around to leave, speaking as he swayed away, "What with the monster and that ruddy prison, I don't know how we sleep nights. Do you, Gary?"

Sam suddenly saw the connection of the two men and glanced over at Dean, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Like a baby." Gary replied with a wide grin, causing the other man to shake his head in amused irritation, "That's not true,"
He turned to Sam, "He's a snorer."

Sam raised his chin kindly, awkwardly listening to the conversation, as Dean approached him, stepping away from the maps.

"Is yours a snorer?" Billy asked politely, and Sam immediately froze on the spot.

He swallowed and was instead answered for by Dean. "Oh, yeah." Dean pronounced the words slowly, and winked at his brother.
He snatched the keys from Sam's hand and trotted towards the Inn stairs, "Come on, babe."

Sam blushed in embarrassment as both Billy and Gary grinned with admiration. He nodded a goodbye and sprinted after his brother.

Lemme know what you think in a review? :3