Detective Inspector Lestrade handed Sherlock a file as he began to explain the special case he had for him.
"It's a particularly startling case in Indiana. A town has had several residents turn up mauled to death with their hearts missing. People are saying it's some kind of wild dog or wolf... A friend of mine who is a sheriff in the town, Washington, Indiana, was telling me about the case. He's very concerned for his residents. I told him that since you and John had dealt with a dog problem on that Baskerville case and considering your talents, you two would be ideal to put on the case. You and John won't have to worry about plane fare, just the cost of a hotel and food. It would be a great help, I appreciate it." Lestrade said, speaking as though Sherlock had already agreed to go over to another country that Sherlock frankly found rather dull to help a friend of Lestrade's.
"Oh well, I must ask John but I suppose a change in scenery would be interesting..." Sherlock said, rather insincerely. "But I admit the bit about the missing hearts IS quite odd. Just the heart gone, yes?"
Lestrade nodded.
"How strange indeed. And of course no one in some state in America can figure it out, I don't watch much news but from what I've seen they're even dimmer than the people here are. And that's saying something." Sherlock said, and without a goodbye or any real resolution to the conversation, he turned and walked away briskly. This, ofcourse, did not bother Lestrade, who was used to his behavior.
John was incredibly excited when Sherlock told them of their next case, he had fought along side an American or two in the war and always wanted to see what the country was like. This was the perfect opportunity to do so, and he even had a traveling companion.
One long plane ride later, and after John and Sherlock rented a car, they were off to meet the sheriff in Washington. They were told by Lestrade that his name was Roger Beenan, and that he would cooperate fully with both of them, which pleased Sherlock greatly. He did not want anyone getting in the way of his investigation.
Unfortunately for Sherlock, there would be another pair of investigators at the sheriff's station to deal with.
Sherlock and John walked into the station to see Sheriff Beenan talking with two men, one with short blond hair and another with longer, dark hair who was incredibly tall. John was a bit taken back by his height, as he appeared to be taller than even Sherlock. Both of the men looked very engrossed in whatever the sherrif was telling them.
Sherlock refused to miss out on important clues just because some American's wanted in on the fun. It was clear to Sherlock that these American's weren't just looking to get out of a speeding ticket. They looked professional, and interested in a long conversation. So Sherlock walked right into whatever they were discussing.
"Hello, I'm Sherlock Holmes, and this is my associate John Watson." Sherlock interjected, pointing to Watson for the introduction. John joined Sherlock and sheepishly said hello and apologized for Sherlock's intrusion.
The sheriff seemed very pleased but explained that the FBI was already taking over.
"Maybe if these gentlemen don't mind you could work with the bureau? Detectives, these men are..." But before Sherrif Beenan could explain who the British men were, the tall one interrupted excitedly.
"I know who you two are! You're...you're Doctor Watson, and...of course, Sherlock Holmes!" he said, and asked the sheriff if he could leave them alone for a moment to discuss the case. The sherrif obliged and went into his office to do some work.
"My name is Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean. I can't believe you two are here, must be for the case right? Is it because of the similarities to the Baskerville one you had last year? I've read quite a bit of your blog, it's really interesting." Sam gushed, as Dean stood there staring at his brother with an exasperated look on his face.
"WHO are these guys now? I'm lost Sam. You and your nerd friends from the internet, I swear..." Dean rolled his eyes.
Sherlock glared at Dean and elaborated on their presence there. After explaining that his boss sent him on the case, he got onto the subject of Sam and Dean.
"You two are obviously not FBI, but work to solve cases on your own, the tall one..." Sherlock is interrupted by John's nudge and reminder that he has a name, "...Yes... Sam is evidently the smarter one of the two, as he was able to deduce why we were sent here, while...Dean? Right, yes, Dean is rather intelligent for an American but prefers to work with his hands."
Dean rolled his eyes and nudged Sam's arm.
"We got work to do tracking this thing down Sammy, let's go, we're burning daylight." But as Dean stepped away from the group, Sam didn't follow. Dean looked back and threw up his arms. "You gonna fangirl some more or are we gonna hit the road, dude?"
"I was just thinking Dean...we could use these guys to find the...you know. We're good at what we do but we always have a hell of a time tracking these suckers down. I'm telling ya, Sherlock Holmes is amazing at figuring out mysteries like this. Just...suck it up for a little while, don't be a jerk, and let 'em come along." Sam reasoned.
Dean looked from Sam over to Sherlock, and squinted.
"You're telling me that this gawky tea drinker is going to be able to help US with a case? Please Sam, he looks like he'd faint at a german shepard, much less one of these things." Dean said, motioning toward Sherlock.
"Hey, do I need to bring up the yorkie chase?" Sam countered.
"SHUT YOUR PIE HOLE SAM. Fine, look...I guess if you insist that he's some brilliant guy he and his friend can come along." Dean finally gave in.
After watching this back-and-forth, Sherlock was compelled to analyze Sam and Dean's relationship, much to Watson's dismay.
"Wow, how did I miss that before? It's so obvious, I feel like I was just watching a married couple bickering. You don't spend more than fifteen minutes away from each other do you? Ever? I don't understand how you haven't murdered each other brutally by now. It's the most codependent, sickening thing I've ever seen. I love John but I can only tolerate him so often. The only thing I've wanted to spend THAT much time with was cocaine..."
"SHERLOCK!" John shouted, "I've told you not to discuss that with anyone else. And I think it's wonderful that they're so close. I wish Harry and I were..." John turned to Sam and Dean, "I'm so very sorry about Sherlock, he means well but is rather bad at social engagements. I'm sure you understand, Sam, if you read the blog. And for the record, he isn't using any drugs any more. Just to clear that up." John raced to make peace among the two pairs, and it seemed to work.
"We understand. RIGHT, Dean? Let's just get going and deal with this thing." Sam said giving Dean a look which meant he expected him to behave like something of an adult for as long as he could.
Dean groaned and agreed, not without calling Sam a pain in his ass for picking up tourists on a job.
In the Impala Sam explained to John and Sherlock that they were hunting a werewolf, which caused Sherlock to make a loud snorting noise to show his disbelief in such things.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're all about science and hard facts. Well let me tell you something, you're not as brilliant at figuring stuff out as you think you are, Poirot. You've managed to live your whole life without knowing what's out there in the dark. And hey, I'm happy for you, I'd rather me and Sam didn't have to know about this shit either but here we are. I'm just sayin', you aren't any more special than the rest of the people in the world. Trust me, Agatha, werewolves are real. We've killed 'em before..."
Sam looked down for a moment before collecting himself, "I know it sounds crazy, Sherlock, and I know you're a really intelligent man. But these things are real. And there's no way to fix it, we just have to put them out of their misery."
Sherlock looked at John skeptically.
"Well, I suppose if you're a fan of John's blog you can't be INCREDIBLY idiotic. I suppose I can join you on your silly hunt." And with that an awkward silence filled the car.
Dean pulled into a store parking lot where they were told before Sherlock and John showed up that the suspected werewolf would be. He lived near or worked with every one of the victims so far, which was good enough for Sam and Dean.
All four of the men entered the store and walked around, instead of the usual questioning of the suspect, Sam had convinced Dean to let Sherlock watch him for a few minutes first, to see if he got anything off him. After about ten minutes, Sherlock rejoined the others in the back of the store. Sam pulled Dean away from Busty Asian Babes so they could hear what Sherlock thought about the man at the register.
"Well...I'm rather uncomfortable with what I'm going to tell you now. But...I think you may be right about this...lycanthropy idea."
"Of course we are, it's our job to be right about this shit you limey prick..." Dean muttered. Sam responded with a sharp slap to the back of Dean's head.
"Ow..." He winced, and Sam gave him a scolding look. John gave Sam a sympathetic nod; he knew all too well what it was like to have to monitor and correct what came out of his partner's mouth.
"...Anyhow," Sherlock continued, "he smelled like dog, but there was no dog hair on his clothing. Which he would be covered in if he had an animal around him so often that he carried it's scent. He also had blood stains underneath his nails and on the corner of his mouth. Is it possible that he had a light snack on his way to work this morning?"
"Well, it is a full moon tonight, so he definitely could've changed last night or early this morning and had a little fast food action. The werewolves we've come across didn't know that they were changing, so all we can do is keep an eye on cujo until he turns. Luckily, for once we'll have enough eyes so that we can all get some decent sleep. As long as everybody does their job." Dean said.
"Fantastic!" Said Watson, enthusiastically. He'd been on a lot of interesting cases before but this was something really different, and he was intrigued. "So then, if we could just go through a fast food place so I can get some chips to eat in the car while we wait..." he suggested.
"Dude, you don't get chips at a Burger King, they got 'em right in here." Said Dean, with a bemused expression on his face. "And besides, there's no WAY I'm letting you eat chips in the impala. I don't even let Sam do that anymore, the last time he did I didn't think I'd ever get all of the little bits out of the damn seat."
"Dean, I don't think Watson is talking about potato chips, he's using british slang for fries." Sam explained.
"That's right, sorry. I forgot you don't call them chips here. I meant french fries. I'm just hungry enough for a snack, I think fries would do nicely." John said.
"Yeah, definitely. And I'll get some for Dean and Sherlock too, that way they can stuff their faces instead of spending the night pissing each other off. I'm too tired for that shit tonight. Let's swing through a B.K., Dean. You get whatever you want, I'll have a salad, and get the guys some fries." Sam said, smiling and leading the group out the door.
Once everyone got their food, Dean parked the impala in front of the store for the stakeout. Dean and Sherlock quickly got into an argument about semantics and him using british slang, which neither Sam nor John could end.
"...And another thing, cuppa? Seriously? It's bad enough that you drink tea like it's whiskey but you have to make it sound so ridiculous! No wonder we won the war, do you British guys even have decended testicles?" Dean said.
"Of course we do, how else would we keep up the population? Sure, we have immigrants, but there would never be such an influx of immigrants that it would make up the entire population of England. And as for tea, it is a national staple, as is our language. And it is nothing like drinking whiskey, there is no alcohol involved. I don't know what kind of tea you drink here, but I doubt it'd taste very good if it were to be spiked with any kind of alcohol." Sherlock responded, as usual reading Dean's jabs far too literally.
"Are...what ARE you, man?" Dean looked at Sherlock, bewildered. He turned to John, "is he always like this? Because I'm going to have to punch him if he keeps talking like that." Dean threatened. But before John could respond, Sherlock jumped in on the defensive.
"I assure you, you would not make it out of a fight with me. I am an excellent fighter in hand to hand combat." Sherlock said, sitting back in his seat, trying to appear calm.
"What...you? You've got to be joking." Dean started to laugh, "Look Monty Python, I'm a freaking hunter. I've been fighting shit that would make you piss yourself since I was a kid."
After about ten minutes of listening to the two go back and forth, Sam and John got out of the car to get away from the headstrong boys of each pair. Before Sam shut his door he asked Dean to keep the arguing non-violent. He didn't want to have to clean either of them up while worrying about the werewolf. Dean reluctantly agreed, so long as Sherlock didn't provoke him.
Sam and John set themselves down on a bench next door to the store they were keeping an eye on, and began to chat.
"So, John, I know you were in Afghanistan. I was just wondering...and don't tell Dean I asked you about this 'cause he'll beat me to a pulp, but... do you have nightmares still? And how do you deal? I know it's a rough topic but...Dean's been through some bad shit and sometimes he wakes up screaming. And his drinking is...Well, it's just been bad for him for a while. He has these memories of things he's done to people, and being tortured by...well I might as well say it since you seem to trust us on this werewolf thing. He was tortured by demons and now he's so broken by it, and by what he did because of it, sometimes all I can do is think about how horrible it's gotta be in his head. If you have any suggestions, it'd be a real help."
John turned to Sam with a pained look on his face, he then looked off at the impala, seeing Dean and Sherlock making dramatic gestures as they argued.
"You know, I wasn't really handling things well before I met Sherlock. The nightmares were consuming my life. But Sherlock made a point of distracting me and giving me such an exciting life. That's what I feel is important in my life now, keeping busy with work, and Sherlock. Having him there for me, to laugh with, and even when he's being a child or makes me worry, I know that I have him. And he's not going anywhere. It seems you and Dean have something similar. Your work distracts you, and at the end of the day you look out for each other. You joke around and play pranks on each other on your good days, and on your bad days...It's like when one of you is too hurt to take care of yourself properly, the other one steps in and takes over. Like when Sherlock is having a bad day with his addiction, or boredom, or a hard case, I make sure he eats and doesn't hurt himself. You know what that's like, don't you?" Watson said, keeping his voice low in case the windows of the impala got rolled down.
Sam took a deep breath, searching for the best way to respond without getting too emotional, without getting to deep into this discussion with a stranger. But he could sense that it was too late to pull back like he always did with Dean.
"I do, yeah. Wow, that's dead on, actually. Sometimes I look over at Dean and he looks so angry. But it's not anger on his face, not really. I can tell it's him forcing all of the pain and guilt and hatred for himself down, so he won't start to cry. That's why he drinks, and that's why he kills things so fucking violently. He's trying to keep himself together. So I let him sing bad music in the car to cheer himself up, even when I'd love nothing more than to rip the radio out and throw it out the window, and I carry him to his bed when he's had too much to drink and I stay by him through the night to make sure he doesn't puke and aspirate...I can't even explain what it was like the one time I wasn't watching him close enough and I heard this...noise. Like choking, so I ran over as fast as I could to put him on his side. The rest of that god damned night I didn't even leave his bed, out of fear that he wouldn't make it through the night. I just held onto his stupid fucking body and hoped that this would pass. But yeah, I guess I make it better some days. It's just wearing on me." After Sam got through his response, he felt like a weight had been lifted slightly off his shoulders, he never had anyone to talk to about this.
But now both of the men sat there in silence, thinking about, not only how destructive the people they loved could be, but how it was always them who felt the need to make it better. Despite how dark their stories were, they both felt stronger for sharing them, like since they were no longer alone in their battles, maybe it meant hope for them.
Their thoughts were interrupted several minutes later by Dean yelling at them from just out of the impala.
"What're you two, blind? Wolf-man's heading toward the fuckin' neighborhood behind the store! We gotta go!" Dean got back into the car and revved the engine.
The boys got back into the car and they sped off to find the werewolf. They tracked him to a house where he'd broken in, and Dean got to the creature just as it was clawing it's way through some poor bastard's bedroom door. Dean fired a shot that grazed the creature's shoulder. It charged at Dean and before Dean could let off another shot, Sherlock and John had him pinned to the floor. Sherlock was muttering something about getting a DNA sample for testing, which Dean did not have the patience for.
"It's not that interesting, trust me. He's just a monster that needs to be put down." Dean said, as he aimed and fired his gun, killing the werewolf.
"Hey Dean...you know we're just going to burn the body anyway. Why not let Sherlock and John take like...I dont know, a skin sample with them for whatever testing they want to do? It's not going to matter to us, right?" Sam suggested, trying to ease the fiery relationship between Sherlock and Dean; a peace offering.
Dean didn't seem convinced that this was a good idea, but he decided against arguing with Sam at that moment.
"Yeah, whatever. Just cut off what you need and leave the rest of the corpse for us to take care of." Dean said, resigning himself to playing along with the nerds surrounding him. He was starting to think that Sam secretly wanted to work with Sherlock and John on their kind of cases. He elbowed Sam, "freaking dork", he muttered.
John went to get some gloves and a bag to put some hair and maybe a small patch of skin into, while Sherlock studied the body as Dean and Sam looked on.
"This is fascinating, an entirely new creature I've never even believed could exist! He looks human now, but look at these stretch marks covering his skin! It's obvious that the transformation took it's toll on the man. I'd love to be able to look at his brain and see if there are any abnormalities..." Sherlock gushed.
"NO. Absolutely not! Skin and some hair is one thing but you are not hacking that dude's skull up to get to his grey matter. Jesus Christ...what is wrong with you?" Dean said, creeped out and a little angry at Sherlock taking over the case. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Dean and went back to studying the dead werewolf until John came back to get the samples and let Dean and Sam take the body to burn it.
Three hours later, everything was cleaned up and taken care of, with Sam and Dean burning the werewolf out in a field a few miles away, and John and Sherlock going to inform the sherrif that the wild dog responsible for the deaths was caught and put down.
Now, the Winchesters and the boys from Baker Street were in a bar having a drink to celebrate a collaboration that didn't end in Sherlock or Dean hurting each other. Soon though, Dean and Sherlock were at it again, arguing over what was considered music. Sherlock insisted that little other than classical could come close to being called music, and certainly not Led Zeppelin, which was just noise and bad clothing choices. Dean countered by saying that Led Zeppelin and other rock bands had more soul in it than any classical music, and took a jab at Sherlock saying he must be unpatriotic because Zeppelin is a band from his home land. This did not sway Sherlock's feelings on the matter. After arguing for a while and reaching a standstill, Sherlock gave up in a huff.
"I'm going out for a cigarette. Oh, and if you want national pride, Dean, I'll give you my brother's mobile number. He's the one you want to talk to. I just live there." He snorted and walked out. John followed after him to try to keep him from smoking, while Dean called after Sherlock that he'd finish his beer for him.
A few minutes later John meandered back in, looking rather defeated.
"Yeah...Sherlock's out having a cigarette. He nearly bit my head off when I suggested he didn't need one. I guess Dean made him irritable. But what can I do...he'll calm down when we get to the hotel and I'll let him rant for a while. Then maybe he'll let me give him a neck rub and he'll get some sleep." Watson said, a little unsure of what he'll be going back to the hotel to.
Sam smiled and nodded.
"We both have a handful to go home to, huh? I figure Dean'll get a little more plastered, then I'll take his ass home and he'll use the magic fingers and pass out. I'll keep an eye on him for a while, then hopefully I can get some shut eye too. Hey, you and me should keep in touch after you guys get back to England. I think it'd be great to be able to keep up with you, and to vent and share ideas about our headcases. Who knows, maybe they'll mellow out and you guys can visit sometime without Dean and Sherlock being dicks to each other." Sam said, and he laughed as both he and John shook their heads to the idea of Sherlock and Dean ever getting along.
The next morning, as the pairs were saying their goodbyes, John gave Sam a note. Sam read it in silence on the way out of Indiana, refusing to let Dean see it or know what it said. John had written a heartfelt note of encouragement, something he felt Sam desperately needed.
It read:
"Sam,
I know that it's hard to see Dean at his worst, because it's always going down hill. But remember what you told me, even when he's got hell in his head, he's there for you like he was when you were a kid. That's what I see in Sherlock too. He could be having a horrible day, with a case, and with his personal demons, but if something happens to me, if I need him, he's doing everything he can to try and make things okay. He often fails because he's still so painfully awkward when it comes to human needs, but the point is that he tried every time. Always remember that whether Dean is drinking, hitting, or simply not letting you know what he's feeling at a given moment, he'd go through hell for you. And he's probably thinking of you right this very moment. And it doesn't matter when you read this, because this very moment for you two is every moment that exists as long as you're together. I know you that because that's how I feel with Sherlock, the mess that he is. And I see a lot of you two in us. Which...I think is a good thing most of the time.
Thank you for your companionship, your British friend,
John H. Watson"
Sam took a deep breath as he put the note into his wallet, behind the photo of Dean he kept in there as well.