A/N: Hey! I hope you liked the last chapter. This next one is where it starts getting interesting. Among other things, a certain consulting detective will make an appearance. Enjoy the new chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even a little bit.

Chapter 2 – The Detective

"Did you find anything yet?" John Watson asked through the phone.

"Nothing!" complained consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, "There's absolutely nothing!"

"Maybe you should just come back then. I don't even know why you saw the need to leave London."

"I told you, I overheard Mycroft talking to someone in the American government about someone escaping from a top secret facility in Oregon. And seeing as 1) my brother rarely bothers with problems in America, and 2) we haven't had any cases recently, I decided to investigate."

"Then why did I have to stay behind?"

"You need to stay to keep up the pretense that I haven't left Baker Street. Mycroft can't know that I've gone to America to solve something top secret that I heard about through eavesdropping on him. We can't risk him pulling me off a case as interesting as this."

"Fine, but to be honest, I don't know how he hadn't noticed already. I mean, usually he'd have seen that you haven't been at Baker Street for quite some time…"

"Hold on John! I've found something!" He hung up. He had been looking through newspaper articles when he had spotted a small missing person notation of someone who had apparently left town on a bus and hadn't been seen when the bus unloaded. However, there was no description of the person in question, only the fact that several people had reported the bus being stopped between towns by two men. It was barely anything, but it was the only possible lead Sherlock had come across in a week. He looked at the route the bus had taken and discovered that he wasn't too far away from where the bus was said to have pulled over, so getting into his rental car, he started driving.

After about an hour, the car started making odd noises. He cursed. He never used rented cars if he could help it, he preferred cabs. The car turtled along a few more feet and then came to a complete stop. He sighed angrily and got out. He pulled out his phone to call a tow service but there was no signal. "Just my luck! Right when I come upon a feasible lead I can't even investigate it!"

His only luck now was to wait for a car to come by, but on this stretch of road, other cars were few and far between.

About fifteen minutes later, however, he heard an approaching car engine. He looked up and saw a sleek black car coming down the road. At first, he thought it could be a government car but he looked closer and saw that this was not the case. It looked to be a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Also, the license plate read KAZ 2Y5, Kansas. Why would someone from Kansas be in Oregon? As he wondered about this, the Impala slowed to a stop next to him.

"Having a little car trouble?" asked a cheerful voice.

"Unfortunately," said Sherlock.

Dean Winchester leaned back, surprised at the stranger's smooth British accent. "Well, we'd be happy to help you out."

"Thank you," said the stranger stiffly.

Dean got out and walked over. "What seems to be the problem?"

The stranger rolled his eyes. "Don't you think that if I knew what the problem was, I would have fixed it?"

"Jeez. Two words: anger management."

"Dean!" said Sam, getting out of the car, "Don't be rude!" "Sorry," he said, turning to the stranger, "My name is Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean." He held out his hand for the stranger to shake.

Sherlock looked at the hand as though it was coated in poison and said, "Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective."

Sam was surprised. He recognized the name. Dean had joked about him being Sherlock earlier.

"No way," said Dean, "You mean you're that British dude who can tell a person's life story just by looking at them?"

"Yes. For instance, I can tell that you are some sort of hunter, lost both your parents, love your car, and worry about your brother constantly."

Dean and Sam's jaws dropped. "How did you know that?!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "I don't know, I notice." He took a deep breath.

"From the way you act, I can tell that you've had little to no parenting. This is reinforced by the fact that you're always worried about your younger brother, who I can tell is younger by the fact that he often looks to you for an example. Also, you act extremely overconfident and immature, probably to cover up how scared you really are that you have no one to look to for guidance and no way to ensure your brother's safety. Another thing is, you seem to have some sort of self-hating attitude which again backs up the lack of parents. It's obvious that you love your car. Every inch of it is scrubbed and polished which also makes it safe to say that you travel a lot and practically live on the road. Finally, I can tell that you're hunters of some kind from the way you hold yourselves and your hands tell me you're accustomed to using both guns and knives and to being in dangerous situations. That suggests that you don't hunt animals such as deer or rabbits which leads me to believe that you're not ordinary hunters."

"Son of a bitch," said Dean.

"That was incredible," said Sam.

Just then, one of the Impala's back doors opened and Aliea stepped out. "What's taking so long?" she asked, "And who is he?"

"Sherlock Holmes," said Sherlock.

"Aliea Brook. She offered her hand for Sherlock to shake, "It's a pleasure."

Sherlock's brain was running at light speed. He recognized that name from a file he had read a long time ago. He had saved it in his mind palace in case it proved to be useful later, whether to investigate or to annoy Mycroft with. According to the file, "Aliea Brook" had been locked up by the American government for top secret reasons. Mycroft had caught him reading through it and said, "Ah, yes, Aliea Brook. She was locked up a while ago." "How long?" Sherlock had asked. "Years," said Mycroft. But something in his voice had sounded off. He was lying, Sherlock realized. Lying about how long she was locked up. But why would he lie? What if the file was connected to the conversation he had overheard? But there's no way this could be the same person, he thought, she couldn't be. But he couldn't shake the feeling that she was. He decided he would have to watch her closely before coming to any conclusions.

He smiled and took Aliea's hand. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine."

He turned back to the others. "Would you mind me coming along with you? Frankly, I can't stand rental cars and it doesn't look like this one is going to start up anytime soon."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. We're already taking Aliea to a restaurant so I guess you can catch a ride with us."

"Well, if we're done here, can we get going?" asked Aliea impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on," said Dean getting back into the car.

Sam got into the passenger side, leaving Aliea and Sherlock to get into the back.

Aliea subconsciously sat as far away from Sherlock as possible. She wasn't sure if she should trust him yet and something about him put her on her guard.

Sherlock was fine with this arrangement. He preferred not being squashed up against someone. As the car started, he closed his eyes and visited his mind palace. Surely there was something there he could use to help figure this mystery out. A few minutes later, however, he was violently pulled back to reality by Aliea asking him what he was doing.

"I was in my mind palace, trying to make sense of the events that have occurred over the past few hours."

Dean snorted from the front seat, "Mind palace?"

"Yes," Sherlock snapped, "It's a memory technique I use to order my thoughts. You picture something in your head and store your memories in it."

"So it could be a house or a cabin or something?" Aliea asked.

"Yes," said Sherlock.

"And you have a palace?" she snorted, "I must say, it does suit you, well, I mean your frankly aristocratic attitude. You act extremely haughty."

Dean burst out laughing and after a second, Aliea joined in.

"Will you two shut up!" Sherlock yelled, "I can't think with all the noise you're making!"

After another hour of driving, Dean pulled to a stop in front of a roadhouse diner. "Really reminds me of Ellen's place," he said with a sigh.

"Yeah," agreed Sam.

The foursome exited the car and started to walk into the diner when they heard a strange screeching, wheezing noise coming from a clump of nearby trees.

"What the hell is that?!" said Dean, grabbing his gun.

"No idea," said Sam, "Should we check it out?"

"Yes," said Aliea, "Who knows, it could be dangerous and it's better that we check it than someone else."

With that, they set off towards the strange noise.

[End Chapter]