SUPERLOCK

SHERLOCK HAS A PLAN

Author's Note:

Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade [mentioned]

Warnings: Mild violence, mild language, mild dub-con

Disclaimers: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steve Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and various other people/studios. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

'What do you want this time?' were the first words out of Sherlock's mouth, even before he'd seen the man waiting.

John walked into the flat just in time to see their guest stand and turn. He was tall- like, massively tall, about 6"4, which made John feel like a child compared to him- with longish brown hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing boots, jeans, and a plaid shirt over a cotton tee, and he looked so out of place in 221B that John froze for a minute, blinking.

That is, until the man finally answered Sherlock; 'It's Dean.'

He was American, and John finally shook his head and pulled his jacket off. As he did, the man's eyes fell to him, and he raised both eyebrows in surprise before looking back at Sherlock.

'John, Sam; Sam, John,' Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. He threw his coat and scarf over the back of the arm chair and dropped onto the sofa. 'What's wrong with Dean?' he asked.

'Erm...' Sam looked at John for a few more seconds before turning to face Sherlock. 'He's annoying the crap out of me,' he admitted and sat. 'And no matter what I say, he won't listen.'

'What is it, specifically, that's annoying you?' Sherlock questioned.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair, strands flopping into his face until he pushed them away. 'I've told you about Castiel, right?' he asked.

Sherlock's eyebrows jumped and he rested his elbows on his knees. John recognised that Sherlock was in a "thinking mode" when he pressed his palms together, fingertips beneath his chin.

'I'll make tea then, shall I?' he said, and Sam's eyes flicked to him. 'Can I get you anything, Sam?'

'Oh, no, I'm fine,' Sam flashed him a charming smile. John shook his head as he entered the kitchen. What was it with him and tall blokes? He seriously had a problem.

John busied himself making tea, and there was silence from the sitting room. Every time John looked over his shoulder, Sherlock was in the same thinking position, and Sam was just staring at him, waiting patiently. Finally, when John had re-entered and sat on the sofa, Sherlock lifted his head.

'I'm still not sure I believe you,' he said.

Sam laughed. 'I've told you; I can bring Cas here, let you meet him. If he suddenly... appears, then would you believe me?'

Sherlock was silent.

'How do you think I got here?' Sam asked. 'Two hours ago I was in Ohio.'

John's eyebrows jumped. Ohio? Like, Ohio in America Ohio?

'Hmm,' Sherlock hummed and tilted his head. 'And you can... pray to him, is that correct?' Sam nodded. 'Fine,' Sherlock said and sat back. 'Let's see it, then.'

Sam smiled brightly at him, and John sipped his tea. As usual, he had no bloody clue what was going on.

Sam cleared his throat and looked up. 'Uh... Cas, it's me, Sam. I know you're probably busy watching Dean, but could you-'

There was the sound of rustling wings, and then suddenly a man was standing in the middle of 221B.

John leapt to his feet, but Sam stood just as quickly and held a hand out. 'It's okay,' he said. 'This is Cas.'

Sherlock was leaning back on the sofa, eyes running over the stranger quickly. John openly stared, too. He was tall (like all the bloody men John knew) with messy brown hair, stubble over his strong jaw, and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a rumpled suit and trench coat, his tie backwards, and his eyes wandered around the room before focusing on Sam.

'What is it, Sam?' he asked in a deep, gravely voice that made John shiver slightly. Yeah, he really had a thing for tall blokes with deep voices. Damn Sherlock Holmes for making him realise that.

'I want you to meet some friends of mine,' Sam said.

'The ones you wanted to see in England?' Castiel questioned, and Sam nodded. The man finally turned to look at Sherlock, then John. 'Hello,' he said, 'I'm Castiel.'

'And you're an Angel of the Lord?' Sherlock questioned.

Castiel nodded.

'Hmm,' the genius hummed and pressed his hands together again. 'Why should I believe you?'

John finally snapped.

'What the hell is going on?' he demanded, and all eyes turned to him.

'Oh, yes, I haven't told you how I met Sam and Dean Winchester,' Sherlock murmured. He patted the sofa next to himself. 'Sit down, John, and I'll explain everything.'

Twenty minutes later, John was torn between three options; finally sending Sherlock to an insane asylum, calling Mycroft and telling him his brother had cracked, and laughing hysterically. He settled for a bit of the last; laughing and shaking his head and asking, "Are you serious?" over and over again. Vampires and demons and werewolves and Sherlock helping the Winchester brothers hunt down something when they were stuck in England... no. No, no, no, no, no.

John refused to believe it until Castiel pressed two fingers to his forehead and showed the doctor a few of his personal experiences. John decided not to questions the angels Castiel had killed, or the rather intimate thoughts about someone named Dean, or even the blue box that seemed to be able to travel through space.

Nope, he just nodded and went to make more tea.

When he returned, Castiel was still standing, and Sherlock was staring at him.

'Cas, just sit, yeah?' Sam finally asked- well, demanded- and Castiel scowled at him before sitting on the sofa beside Sherlock.

Sherlock moved closer, letting John sit, too. But John thought the genius just wanted to figure out Castiel's secrets, rather than give John a place to sit.

'So,' Sherlock finally said, 'you're in love with Dean?'

Castiel went completely rigid, and John just kind of stared along with Sam. Finally the angel slumped and nodded once, curtly. 'Yes,' he said softly.

'I see,' Sherlock mused. 'And why haven't you just told him?'

'I've tried,' Castiel said. 'But Dean is... he doesn't...'

'He's closeted,' Sam chimed in, and all eyes turned to him. 'Our Dad, he... he taught Dean very specific things about being a man,' Sam continued, and something dark entered his eyes before he could shake it away. 'Dean has nothing against gay men or women, but he thinks it's wrong for him to like men, too,' Sam said

'He thinks it makes him less manly- less of a hunter,' Castiel murmured. 'I don't want to add to his pain, so I've said nothing.'

'Dear God, he's just like Lestrade,' Sherlock groaned.

Castiel scowled at the use of his father's name- his father, John thought, heart skipping a beat- and Sam said, 'Uh, Lestrade?'

'You haven't met, but I've told you about him,' Sherlock said. 'The DI who lets me work crimes.'

'Oh, right,' Sam nodded.

'Anyway, your brother sounds just like Lestrade,' Sherlock continued. 'He refused to believe that he could be bisexual until my brother came along. But, he still didn't make a move, and my brother didn't want to cause him any trouble, so Mycroft never told Lestrade how he felt.'

'And?' Sam asked, leaning forward, and Castiel too looked intrigued.

'I...' Sherlock trailed off, and his blue eyes were suddenly alight. He leapt to his feet, making Sam start and Castiel stare at him with narrowed eyes. John was used to his boyfriend suddenly bursting into life, so he just sipped his tea.

'Sherlock?' Sam questioned.

'Oh... oh,' Sherlock clapped his hands together. 'Dean is exactly like Lestrade. So... well, it can't help... and I owe you a favour... but would it? I don't see why not... but he'll most likely resort to violence... oh, who cares.' Sherlock rubbed his hands together and turned to face Sam, who looked equal parts confused and excited. 'Can you bring Dean here?' he asked. 'Right now?'

'Ah...' Sam looked at Castiel.

'Of course,' the angel nodded.

'Excellent,' Sherlock beamed. 'Castiel, tell Dean that it's just a small get-together; a catch-up, if you will. Old friends having a drink and whatnot.'

Castiel nodded and stood. John blinked in surprise when Castiel disappeared, the sound of flapping wings and the rustle of papers in an invisible wind the only evidence that he'd even been there.

'You have a plan, right?' Sam asked, looking uneasy.

Sherlock grinned. 'Of course I do.'

John didn't trust that grin.

{oOo}

Castiel was back about ten minutes later, another (fucking tall) man standing beside him. He was dressed similarly to Sam; jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt, only he had a green jacket over the top. He had short, light brown hair, green eyes, and freckles across his cheeks. John could see why Castiel fancied him; Dean was gorgeous.

'Sherlock,' Dean smiled when he saw the genius.

'Dean,' Sherlock nodded from the sofa. 'Beer?' he then asked.

'Uh... sure,' Dean said, blinking I confusion. 'I thought you didn't drink?'

'I don't care for it,' Sherlock shrugged. 'But John does.' He looked at the man in question, and Dean followed his train of sight.

'Uh... hey,' Dean settled on saying.

'John Watson,' John smiled and handed him a beer, Sherlock having asked him to get Dean a drink before the hunter had even arrived. 'Sherlock's... flatmate.'

He was going to say boyfriend, but Sherlock's eyes flashed to him, so he settled on flatmate. It wasn't exactly a lie. Plus, John had a feeling he knew what Sherlock's "plan" was, and he just knew something was going to go wrong, no matter what the outcome was. Still, he was prepared to sit back and watch; it was what he usually did during Sherlock's plans... unless a gun was needed. Then he just stood there and looked dangerous.

'How have you been, Dean?' Sherlock asked. And oh, crap, Sherlock was definitely up to no good. Sherlock didn't care about stuff like that; he hadn't even asked Sam that. All he'd cared about were the monsters Sam and his brother had been chasing and killing. Small talk wasn't for Sherlock. Graphic re-tellings of decapitating vampires and smiting demons? Yes, that was more Sherlock.

But Sherlock listened, seemingly attentively, as Dean recapped what he, Sam and Castiel had been up to over the past few weeks. But John noticed that his boyfriend's eyes kept sliding to Castiel, who was standing very close to Dean; seriously, how could the hunter not see that? John was no Holmes, but even he could tell that Castiel wanted Dean.

As the group continued to talk, Sherlock continued to look at Castiel, until he was outright staring. That then moved to asking Castiel specific questions about angels, about heaven, about Castiel himself, until suddenly Sherlock was saying, 'Your vessel is gorgeous.'

Dean froze, and Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, head tilting as he looked at Sherlock. Sam looked between the two, and John sighed; this wasn't going to end well. At all.

'I don't understand,' Castiel eventually said.

'I find you sexually attractive,' Sherlock stated. 'As in, I would like to have sex with you.'

John groaned and rubbed his eyes. When he risked a glance up, it was to see Sam with his mouth hanging open, Dean outright glaring at Sherlock, and Castiel... still confused.

'Um... okay?' the angel tried.

'Would you fancy sex?' Sherlock asked. 'With me,' he clarified and stood.

'N-No,' Castiel stuttered and even took a step back. But Sherlock just moved closer, getting into Castiel's personal space. Dean's eyes followed him the entire time, and he looked like he was considering the best way to kill Sherlock and dispose of his body.

'Why not?' Sherlock asked. 'Don't you think about sex?'

Castiel's eyes darted to Dean, and he swallowed thickly. 'Y-Yes, I've thought about... carnal pleasure,' he said. 'But-'

'So why not with me?' Sherlock asked. He tilted his head, blue eyes roaming over Castiel carefully. 'Oh, you're a virgin!' His eyes lit up with glee. 'Virgins are always fun.' He stepped even closer, leaning in. 'I can teach you a lot of things, Castiel,' he practically purred into the angel's ear.

'Bad idea,' John murmured, but nobody was listening to him. 'Bad, bad idea.'

'No, thank you,' Castiel said.

'Why not?' Sherlock asked.

'Hey, he said no,' Dean finally spoke up- well, he growled more than spoke- but Sherlock paid him no attention.

'How about just a kiss, then?' Sherlock asked.

And suddenly, he decided to act out the true masterpiece of his plan...

… by grabbing Castiel's hip, thrusting his body against the angel's, and sticking his tongue down Castiel's throat.

John choked on his tea and Sam's mouth dropped open, while Dean just kind of froze and made an odd choking sound. Castiel kind of froze, too, but his eyes went wide and he stared at Sherlock, as though confused about what was happening.

Time seemed to stand still, Sherlock and Castiel connected by the mouth, until Sherlock moaned and used his free hand to pull Castiel's head closer.

That was when Dean lost it, leapt across the room, and grabbed Sherlock.

It all went downhill from there.

Dean whipped Sherlock around and punched him in the face, a right hook that sent Sherlock staggering back and onto the sofa, groaning in pain and clutching his face. John practically threw his mug onto the coffee table as he got up and between his boyfriend and the American.

'What the fuck was that?!' Dean spat, while Sam followed John's example.

He got between Dean and the couple, pushing his older brother back. 'Jesus, Dean, relax,' the younger Winchester ordered.

'No!' Dean shouted. His face was red in anger, and his fingers were curled into fists, like he was going to hit Sherlock again. 'What the fuck was that, Sherlock?' he demanded again, voice rising.

Sherlock groaned and let John help him up. He was still clutching his cheek and wincing, and John tried to pull his hand away to inspect the damage. Dean Winchester was a big bloke; there was no telling what kind of damage one good punch could do to someone as skinny as Sherlock.

'I'm fine,' Sherlock waved a dismissive hand, but immediately winced as the words left his lips.

Castiel was still in the same spot, staring at them all, head tilted and a confused look on his handsome face. 'Dean?' he questioned.

'You think you can just fucking push yourself on Cas?' Dean demanded and took a step closer. Thankfully Sam was there to keep him back. 'You were clearly making him uncomfortable, and you just fucking kiss him and grope him?'

'He isn't seeing anyone; he told me that himself,' Sherlock shrugged. 'He's gorgeous, and an angel; how many people can say they've ever shagged an angel?'

Dean blinked, clearly trying to remember what shagging was. Realisation finally flickered in his green eyes and his look darkened.

'Easy, Dean,' Sam warned again and pressed a hand to his chest.

'He stepped away!' Dean hissed. 'He told you no! What the fuck were you-'

'What?' Sherlock interrupted. He narrowed his eyes at Dean as he said, 'Nobody else wants him.'

'Excuse me?' Dean growled.

'Nobody else wants him,' Sherlock repeated and then shrugged. 'Who says he doesn't want to fuck me, hmm? Maybe he was just confused because nobody's ever made a move.'

Dean whirled around to face Castiel, who blinked rapidly at the hunter. 'Cas?' Dean asked.

Castiel was clearly still confused, and said a soft, 'Dean...?' complete with a head-tilt. John was beginning to suspect that he did that all the time.

'You, uh...' Dean ruffled a hand through his hair and over the back of his neck. 'You, well... don't want... him, right?'

Castiel stared at him. 'In what way?' he finally asked.

'Er... well, ya know,' Dean tried, and John's eyebrows climbed when he saw Dean's face and ears turning pink. Sherlock smirked. 'You didn't wanna... like, have... s-sex with him, right?'

Castiel continued to stare, his eyebrows furrowed, head still tilted. Suddenly he straightened up and took a few steps forward, getting into Dean's personal space. Dean didn't seem to mind, John noted.

'No,' Castiel said firmly. 'I don't want to have sex with Sherlock.'

'See?' Dean said, rounding on the genius. 'Why the fuck did you grope him?'

Sherlock opened his mouth, but it was Castiel who said, 'I'm not with anyone, Dean.' Dean turned back to face him. 'I appreciate your concern, but I don't understand it,' the angel continued. 'How is it any of your business who I sleep with?'

Dean opened his mouth to say something... but then closed it. He drew his eyebrows together and he scowled, shifted a bit, and folded his arms tightly across his chest.

'Dean?' Castiel prompted.

'Well... it is my business,' Dean muttered.

'How?' the angel demanded.

They were staring at each other, as I they were alone and not in a room with three other people. John had the feeling they did that a lot, and they definitely took eye fucking to a whole new level. Greg and Mycroft were this bad. Hell, even Sherlock and John weren't this bad, and they did a lot of eye fucking, if what Greg said was anything to go by.

'I'm just, you know...' Dean grumbled, 'looking out for you.'

'And I appreciate that,' Castiel repeated, 'but why are you so angry? I can take care of myself, as you know.'

'Yeah, but...' Dean trailed off.

Castiel scowled in frustration. 'But what?'

'Maybe I want it to be my business!' Dean finally snapped. 'You ever think of that, Cas?'

Silence descended. Sherlock was wincing soundlessly as he prodded at his bruised cheek, and John and Sam were just kind of staring at Dean and Castiel, who were in turn staring at each other. Castiel seemed confused- which was something he did a lot, if the last ten minutes has been anything to go by- and Dean looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

'What?' Castiel finally broke.

'I... maybe I want it to be my business,' Dean repeated. He looked at Castiel carefully. 'You know?'

Castiel just stared, his eyes locked on Dean's, as though he was searching for... something. Suddenly after a good minute and a half of the weirdest staring contest John had ever seen, Castiel closed the distance between him and Dean, grabbed the American's face, and crushed their lips together.

Dean jolted in surprise, and Castiel quickly broke the kiss, staring at Dean hard.

'Are you sure you want it to be your business?' the angel asked, his breathing slightly ragged.

Dean blinked slowly before nodding. 'Yeah,' he said and tugged Castiel in again.

Their lips met wetly, nosily, and John was kind of frozen somewhere between fascination and disbelief, because seriously; an angel and a hunter were snogging in his sitting room, what the fuck had his life become?

The snogging was quickly descending into groping, with Castiel and Dean trying to rip each other's clothes off while simultaneously trying to get closer together. It was Sam who snapped first.

'For fuck's sake; get a room!' he shouted.

Castiel and Dean broke apart.

'Good idea,' Castiel said, his voice even deeper than before. A strong gust of wind suddenly swept around the room, sending papers flying, and in the blink of an eye Castiel and Dean had disappeared.

'Jesus,' John breathed.

'Seriously?' Sam demanded, rounding on Sherlock. 'That was your plan? Grope Cas until Dean loses it and stakes his claim?'

'A simple case of jealousy,' Sherlock shrugged. The words were quickly followed by a wince and John sighed before going into the kitchen for ice. 'I simply had to show him that others would find Castiel desirable. He finally acted out on his feelings for the angel, and showed me- and everyone else in the room- who Castiel belonged to. Classic Alpha Male; having to mark his territory, just like Mycroft.' He sighed as John returned with the ice and pressed it to his cheek. 'Thank you, John.'

'You're an idiot,' John grunted. 'Seriously, Dean's huge, compared to you. What the bloody hell were you thinking?'

'It worked with Mycroft and Lestrade,' Sherlock shrugged.

John groaned. 'Yeah, and your brother threatened to have me sent to Siberia unless you stayed away from Greg.'

'He would never have done it,' Sherlock said and smiled up at John; one of those small, quirky smiles that had John's heart skipping a beat. 'You mean too much to me.'

John groaned again and leaned down to kiss Sherlock. 'I hate you,' he sighed and gave Sherlock a stern look. 'Seriously, Sherlock, I'm glad you like helping people. But if you ever kiss anyone who doesn't want you to, I'll punch you myself. No, actually; if you ever kiss anyone who's not me while we're dating, I'll kill you. Got it?'

Sherlock waved him off and took a hold of the ice, leaving the hand towel pressed to his rapidly darkening cheek. Sam sat himself heavily in the arm chair, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Though it had been clear he hadn't wanted to see his brother and the angel practically tearing each other from their clothes, he was clearly happy that they were finally together.

'I'm making tea,' John decided and stood. There was only so much crap he could take per day before he tossed in the towel. Tea; tea made everything better. So John would make tea and forget this day had ever happened.

'I'll have a cup,' Sam said, smiling charmingly at the doctor.

'Stop it,' Sherlock ordered.

Sam laughed. 'I'm just being polite,' he said.

'You're flirting with John,' Sherlock scowled. 'John's mine.'

Classic Alpha Male indeed, John mused as he flicked the kettle on.

Sam held his hands up and settled back. 'I don't need to see anymore declarations of who belongs to who,' the American said. 'So I'll stop, I promise.'

Sherlock nodded curtly and John busied himself making tea. Sherlock and Sam chatted about things- swapped stories that made John cringe and question his sanity (and theirs)- but went silent when the doctor returned with tea, one mug for him, and one for Sam.

Sherlock let John pull the ice away briefly to check over his bruise, which was a vicious shade of purple and black, before the older man leaned back on the sofa, Sherlock snuggled into his side. Sherlock wasn't usually this touchy around other people, but Sam didn't seem to mind, so John just went along with it. Like usual.

'Now that Dean has finally admitted his feelings,' Sherlock said suddenly, and John and Sam both looked at him. 'How about you and... Gabriel, is it?' Sherlock asked Sam, one eyebrow going up.

Sam choked on his tea and John groaned.

{THE END}

Author's Note: I was scrolling through Tumblr, as you do, and saw something about SuperWhoLock, so I decided to write some. I only managed to get a mention of Doctor Who in, but I DID try. So, yeah... Sherlock's plan wasn't a very good one, but I like when Dean gets all territorial over his angel. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this random piece of random. It sucks, right? Right. I need to stop writing after being up 32 hours.

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}