Demons, Time-Travel, and Tea: Chapter 2:
Sherlock Holmes stands by the window, listening to the demon's voice crackling through the cell phone. The demons have had a strange respect for him ever since the first one tried to kill him. Maybe it's because he's not like the rest of them- humans, anyway. He's far closer to a demon than to a human.
"Listen, so I've been looking up some stuff on the Leviathan's leader, right? Well here's what I've got…"
Sherlock listens to Crowley for a few more minutes, then interrupts him. "I'm handing you over to the Doctor." He moves from the window to the desk. The Doctor has already noticed the phone call and reaches up to take the phone.
"Hello?" The Doctor pauses. "Yes, of course. No, I can see why this is a problem. Yes, we'll take care of it. Thank you, Crowley." He snaps the phone shut.
The Winchesters unhelpfully choose this moment to stop their argument and begin paying attention. "Crowley?" Sam says with an incredulous look on his rather square face. "You're talking to him?"
"That son of a bitch is back?" Dean's head snaps around. "You know he's a demon, and you choose to talk to him and trust him anyway?"
"He's given us valuable information that I can confirm as being true," Sherlock replies smoothly. "I do not trust him, Dean Winchester. But I will take his information and use it for myself."
"But how can you know he's telling the truth? Even if you are a 'proper genius', in your words," Dean asked, baffled.
"Dean," Sam interjected. "It's that… deduction-y thing he does. Remember how he knew everything about us when we walked in?" Dean is silent now.
"Good. Well, Crowley's found the Dick," the Doctor says. Sam and Dean stare at him for a moment.
"Excuse me?" Dean says with a confused face. "The Dick?"
By now Sherlock has taken a seat in his favorite leather chair by the fireplace, eyes closed, fingertips pressed together as in prayer. Without opening his eyes, he says, "The Leviathan's leader… a king, as it were."
"I'm still not sure about trusting a demon with this kind of important stuff," Dean mumbles angrily.
"I don't think it'll be like… last time we trusted a demon," Sam muses. "I think Crowley really wants to help us."
"I don't even want to talk about last time." Dean turns away, running a hand through his hair, subconsciously laying the other against the folded trenchcoat on the edge of the couch. Sherlock now knew, thanks to the Doctor and Samuel, all about the angels, especially Castiel. It appeared that Castiel was closer to Dean than Dean cared to admit, but Sherlock wasn't one to pry… after all, the three people that knew him best at this moment were all in this flat. The Doctor had told him that Castiel had been taken over by the Leviathan and had died in the struggle, and Sherlock had had no cause to believe otherwise… until now.
"I knew Crowley back when he was Canton," the Doctor murmurs, seemingly to himself. "He seemed a very helpful fellow."
"What? Are you still not over it?" Sam approaches his brother, who clenches his hand tight around the coat. It seemed to calm him at times. This time, though, it might not help. "For God's sake, Dean, that was a long time ago!"
"No, I'm still not over it! You chose a demon over me!" Dean snaps at Sam, who steps back in alarm.
"Trust issues… yet you've chosen to trust the Doctor, of all people," Sherlock mutters, opening his eyes.
The Doctor looks somewhat offended at this, and tell Sherlock sternly, "Just because I am a madman with a box does not mean I cannot be trusted, Sherlock. In fact, several people have entrusted me with their lives on numerous occasions. Yourself included."
"I understand this, Doctor," Sherlock says patiently, ignoring the continued exchange between the brothers. "Yet Dean Winchester has a difficult time trusting anyone. In fact, he walked out on his brother after the demon blood incident. And you are not exactly the most straightforward person I've ever met."
"Yes, but Sherlock," the Doctor protests calmly, "Sam, and Castiel for that matter, have each given Dean a reasonable cause for not trusting them. I, on the other hand, while not always entirely forthcoming, have not done so. Nor have I ever led Dean astray or in the wrong direction." Sherlock looks over to the Doctor, impressed by the eloquence of the argument.
"I believe you've made your point," Sherlock concedes. The Doctor and Sherlock both turn their attention back to the Winchesters.
"Dean, I thought you were over this. You need to grow up."
"Jesus Christ, Sam…"
"Dean. We killed Ruby. I said sorry. Can we please get past this?" Sam really was angry with Dean for bringing up the whole Ruby situation. He never understood why it was such a big deal. I mean, not the demon blood thing- that was a big deal. He didn't understand why Dean wouldn't just let it go. "I already went to hell. Isn't that punishment enough?"
"Sammy…" Dean pauses, remembering his two trips to hell. There wasn't much, but there were flashes of red and black, screams, sometimes his own, and pain beyond imagination. After the first time, he hadn't imagined a situation where Sam would ever need to go there. But he had. "I never wanted that for you. It's worse than anything I could've done… I was supposed to protect you." Dean is fighting back tears again. He really needs to grow a pair, he tells himself. "Look how well that turned out."
"Yeah, well, I went to hell anyway, Dean. And then I went nearly a year without my soul. How can you still hold Ruby against me after all that? Don't you think I've learned my lesson?" Sam steps closer to Dean, their faces inches from each other, Sam looming over Dean. "How can you still treat me like a child?"
"I don't hold it against you, Sam." Dean tries to articulate his response better than the last few. "I left you alone for four months. And I tried, Sammy, I really did, but I just can't trust those demons." He stops, clears his throat so it doesn't sound like he's crying or anything wimpy. "Not after what happened to Cas."
"Boys," the Doctor interjects before Sam can reply scathingly, "I believe your family issues are not more important than the lives of the people here."
"Shove it up your ass," Dean says, turning away.
"Why I never…" The Doctor begins to protest, but Sam interrupts him.
"Doctor, if Dean doesn't trust me, I don't see how we can be a team."
"Stop that ridiculous nonsense at once. Get your act together and act like a family. The Ponds had much more dysfunction than you and they remain more cooperative than you Winchesters," the Doctor scolds them. Sherlock hardly moves at this mention of the Ponds, but some old pain arises at the familiar surname. Amelia Pond, the girl who waited, but not for him. The one he could never have.
There is a long silence. Finally Sam says "Sorry, Doctor. Sorry, Dean."
Dean doesn't apologize, exactly, but it's probably a better one than he'll ever get out of him. "It's okay, Sammy. But we're not done. Kill evil bitches now. Talk later."
"Yeah. Okay. Sherlock, what do you know about the Leviathan? Or Crowley. Or Cas, for that matter," Sam says, turning.
Sherlock winces internally. This was going to be difficult, especially considering tact was not his specialty. But the Doctor could help with the emotional bits. "From what I can deduce, Crowley has been tracking the Leviathan's leader for several weeks now. He's found him in a remote location in the Midwestern United States. The Leviathan's leader thrives in bodies of water, and must have an extremely powerful host." That was good. Don't mention it yet. Let the Doctor handle it. Surely Samuel would figure it out, he was intelligent that way.
"Alright, let's light 'em up then," Sam says.
"Samuel- wait." Sam stops. He's not used to being addressed directly by the detective. Sherlock tries to be gentle. "I don't think you'll want to act so hastily."
"I don't think the Leviathans are entirely opposed to reason," the Doctor reasons. "Perhaps we could explain the issues with their way of life. This is not the first time a species tried to take over the earth by eating its population."
"It's not that." You know why I'm stalling, Sherlock thinks darkly. "It's just the… particular host the leader has chosen."
Sam and Dean stare at Sherlock with nearly identical expressions. "What are you talking about, Sherlock?" Sam asks. "Who's the host?"
"Come on, quit avoiding the subject," Dean demands.
"Sherlock, before you tell them…" the Doctor begins to warn him.
"How haven't you two figured this out yet? I've given you all the clues." Sherlock looks closely at Dean. "Honestly. You ought to have it by now."
"Would you please stop insulting our intelligence?" Dean grumbles.
"Dammit, guys, just tell us," Sam says agitatedly.
"Perhaps we should rationalize," the Doctor begs Sherlock. "They will likely overreact."
Of course they'll overreact, Sherlock thinks. Dean's in love with the angel. We'd be lucky if he didn't overreact. "It's better for them to know the truth." He avoids Dean's eyes. Sherlock is familiar with the kind of pain associated with losing loved ones. He doesn't want to witness it again.
"The truth… the truth about what?" Sam suddenly looks scared of whatever it is they're trying to tell him. He doesn't want to know. The way Sherlock is avoiding the subject, and Dean's eyes… it's going to hurt. Sam Winchester knows pain. He doesn't want any more of it in his life.
"Sherlock, this will not end well for any of us," the Doctor says warningly.
"I know that. We can't just keep this from them." Sherlock knows that in their place, he'd rather know than be kept in the dark.
"Sherlock, please," the Doctor says quickly. "In 900 years, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that timing, while it can be manipulated, it everything."
"But why would you keep it from us? Unless…" Sam suddenly figures it out. Everything clicks into place, and Sherlock can see the pain in his eyes. "Oh my God," Sam breathes.
"He's got it," Sherlock murmurs.
"What the hell is going on? Sam-" Dean grabs the front of Sam's jacket. "You tell me or I swear-"
"Dean Winchester, put your brother down this instant!" The Doctor snaps. Dean slowly lets go of Sam, who backs off.
"Then you tell me exactly what the fuck is going on," Dean says, breathing heavily.
"Dean… it's Castiel," Sherlock says quietly.
"What's Cas? Did you find him?" Wild-eyed, Dean moves closer to Sherlock. "What about Cas?"
"Castiel's the host."
