Author's Note:

I dunno, I was bored at work today and I came up with this chapter.


So, they were really doing this. Dean still didn't even know this guy's name. Should he even bother asking? It would break the silence but he felt at this point conversation would be forced. He wasn't sure where they were really or where the next bar was, but he continued walking next to the taller man.

Sherlock appreciated the silence. It gave him time to think. Organize his thoughts. He finally spoke when he realized they weren't going anywhere. "If we take a left, walk three blocks and make a right we should come to another bar."

Dean turned to look at Sherlock with a partial arched brow. "You aren't from around here, even if you keep using that stupid fake accent. How do you know your way around?"

Sherlock shrugged. He had taken the time to memorize the lay out of the city, just like all the other places he had visited. He still had a job to do but instead he was walking along the streets in the middle of the night with a virtual stranger. "I'm good with maps."

"You got one of those photographic memories?" Dean followed the directions the other man had given automatically.

"Something like that," Sherlock muttered. He didn't want to try and explain how his mind worked right now. Most people didn't understand and probably never would.

"Awesome. Still going with the mysterious thing I see." Dean gave a faint smirk and eyed the building in front of them. This wasn't just a bar, it was night club. The music was loud and there was a line. "This doesn't really seem like the kind of place you would go to Dude."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at being called 'dude' again for...well he had lost count at this point. He eyed the building as well. "It isn't. In fact, bars aren't my scene period."

"Right, sorry. What is your name, since you obviously don't like 'dude' at all." Dean turned to face the man next to him. "I'm Dean Winchester." He stuck out his hand to Sherlock.

"I'm..." Sherlock sighed and shook his head. "I'm nobody these days...Mister Winchester." He shook the hand briefly.

"Oooookay then, I'm just going to keep calling you 'Dude' until you give a real name or hell even a fake name if it makes you feel better. And the only people who call me 'Mister Winchester' is nobody. Dean is fine." Dean stared at the building again. "You sure you want to go in? They might not let you in." Another small smirk formed on his lips.

"Awesome," Sherlock mimicked Dean but his mouth was twitched up into a small smirk. His eyes narrowed at the American. "Why wouldn't they let me in?"

"Uh, have you seen the way you are dressed? The 1920's called and they want their clothes back." Dean couldn't help but smirk bigger.

Sherlock looked down at his clothes. He rather liked the suit he was wearing. A fedora went with it but he refused to wear it. He couldn't wear anything he used, had changed his wardrobe completely. It was too risky otherwise. "A bit not good?"

"A lot not good Dude." Dean shook his head with a small laugh. The line had finally moved up and the bouncer stopped them. He easily paid the big man at the door to let them pass.

Sherlock grumbled something incoherent but followed Dean inside the loud building. How did people come here on a daily basis? How was he supposed to think in a place like this? Why had he even come at all to begin with? Was it because he was feeling a bit lonely and this American was the only person he had really interacted with without killing them after? Probably. Stupid useless emotions, always getting in the way of things.

Dean eyed Sherlock as they found two empty spots at the bar. "No smoking this time, all right Dude?" If you get me kicked out again, I'm going to kick your ass." He ordered two shots of whiskey and slid a glass over to Sherlock.

"I would like to see you try." Sherlock smirked ant then shook his head at the offered drink.

Dean shrugged, poured the contents of the glass into his and downed the double shot quickly. Now maybe he could enjoy his evening, well if mysterious Dude would loosen up a little. "You don't talk much, do you?"

The smirk returned. "Not usually." The music in this club was annoying him. How could people listen to this cacophony? Sherlock missed playing the violin to help him relax. Anything from his old life he had given up.

Right. Awesome. Just his luck his drinking buddy, well companion...new friend...? didn't talk much. Dean wasn't really sure what to consider the man next to him. He decided to order another drink. He had come here in hopes of getting shitfaced after all. He downed the next shot and looked back over to Sherlock. "I think I am going to call you Sam. You two aren't anything alike but I need a name to call you by and it will be easy for me to remember."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows contemplatively. "Sam? He is someone important to you." The sentence was more of a statement, rather than a question. "A sibling perhaps." A pause. "Younger than you."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, how'd y'know?" He downed his fourth shot for the night.

Sherlock shrugged. "Simple deduction really." Once more, he didn't feel like explaining himself.

"Of course. How stupid of me. 'Simple deduction.' Because knowing things about a complete stranger is normal." Dean's eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him. He grabbed Sherlock by the arm tightly, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "What are you?"

Genuine surprise overcame Sherlock. Had Dean had too much to drink already? He had figured the American could drink quite a bit before becoming intoxicated. "A human being who doesn't appreciate your tone or contact. Let go of my arm, now." He fixed Dean with an icy glare.

Dean returned the glare and slowly let go of the arm. "I'm watching you," he growled out and ordered another drink.

Sherlock shook his head. This was stupid. He was going to leave. He didn't have time to waste here and certainly not with a drunk American. It'd been a mistake to think he try have a moment of normalcy in his life. He got up to leave.

"Where do you think you are going?" Dean followed after Sherlock and grabbed the other man's arm again.

"Away from you. You really want to remove your hand from arm, before I break every finger in your hand." Sherlock had, had enough.

"Big talk for a bean stalk." Dean was feeling a little cocky, probably the alcohol. He was also feeling apprehensive and wary. Nothing could ever go normally for him and he couldn't help but be suspicious of Sherlock. He had no proof arm he was holding wasn't anything other than human and he reluctantly let go.

"Thank you," Sherlock said crisply as he fixed his suit and left the deafening building.

Dean hurriedly gulped down another drink before following Sherlock outside. Better to keep an eye out, just in case.

Sherlock turned around sharply. "Why are following me?"

Dean gave a slight smirk. "Just making sure you stay out of trouble."

"Look, you are obviously drunk. My advice is you find a hotel or go home and sleep it off." Sherlock wanted to be rid Dean at this point.

"A little buzzed maybe, but I'm not drunk." Dean didn't know how to explain he needed to make sure the taller man was in fact a man without sounding bat shit insane.

"What will it take to get you to leave me alone?" Sherlock was getting more annoyed with every word spoken. He just wanted to be alone again, it was better that way.

"One night. Spend one night with me." Okay, that sounded less gay in his head. To hell with it. Dean decided to go with it. "I just want to test a theory and then after the night is over, you can go. Never see or hear from me again."