A/N Thank you to my followers. Just to clear some things up, this is supposed to be after season 5, only Sam has his soul and none of stuff with Micheal happened. It is also after season 1 of Sherlock, and Sherlock hadn't met John when he worked the case with Sam and Dean. That's all I wanted to say, again thank you and please review, enjoy:

"Dean, Dean wake up."

Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel above him. He looked beautiful in the firelight coming from the house Sam had just gone into.

"Where's Sam?" he asked, trying to remember why he felt like a truck just ran over him.

"He just went into the house, remember?" Castiel had sorrow mixed with confusion evident on his face. Dean, however did not remember. He was laying in the middle of a street with cuts and bruises covering his body. His ears were ringing, most likely from an explosion of some kind. "Dean, come on. Get up, the police will be here soon."

"What about Sam?" Dean asked as Castiel helped him off the ground, making their way through the rubble to the Impala.

"I'm sorry Dean," was all Cas said.

"What do you mean?" police sirens made themselves known from a distance away.

"Come on Dean!" frustration at Deans behavior caused Castiel to lash and Dean to recoil. Angels rarely raised their voices, let alone his beloved Cas.

Castiel decided to drive since Dean was going into shock and had just lost his brother. This was going to be a long drive.

Having an angel fly you across the Atlantic ocean was never fun. Jet lag wasn't as bad but the nausea and disorientation were excruciating. Dean opened his eyes to see and apartment door with a big brass 221B on it.

Castiel took Dean's hand and looked at him, asking with his eyes if he should knock. Dean nodded and brought his hand up, knocking on the door three times, and receiving no answer. This time Cas decided to knock and on the second one the door opened to reveal a stout man with blond hair and most likely in his thirties.

Behind him was a decently sized living area, papers were scattered about and piled up high on a small desk by the wall. On one wall there was a fireplace with a furniture set near it, a kettle and two cups for tea sitting in the coffee table.

"Hello, who are you?" the stout man asked, looking confusedly up at the strange men.

"Hi, I'm Dean and this is Cas. We are looking for Sherlock," his American accent was evident compared to the blond man's accent.

"He's busy at the moment, would you like me to take a message? Do you have a case for us?" the man asked, turning to grab a pencil and paper.

"Yes, we have a missing person. Someone told us to come here," Castiel spoke up before Dean could answer with some curse or other extremity. The man nodded and ushered them into the apartment. He walked over to the desk and motioned for them to sit down.

Opening the laptop he began to click a few things before saying, "My names John by the way." Standing and walking to another room he told the couple he would be back and help themselves to some tea.

-Scene change-

John walked into the kitchen to find Sherlock staring intently at the microwave. It was most likely one of his crazy experiments but this is Sherlock, unpredictable Sherlock.

"We have some visitors, Sherlock," John said, going to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

"Do we now?" Sherlock said without even looking up, whatever was in there must have been extremely interesting.

"They say their name are Dean and Castiel," Sherlock bolted upright and turned around. obviously John had struck a cord.

Without another word, Sherlock stopped the microwave and strode out of the kitchen with an uptight air. John smirked and pushed aside his confusion, curiosity driving him to look at what it was Sherlock had been so intent on. He opened the door to see a pearly white pair of human eyes staring back at him. Closing the door, John made a resolve to not let Sherlock use the microwave for any of his experiments, and followed his friend into the living room.

"Sherlock," the man named Dean was now standing and staring at Sherlock intently. The other man, Castiel, was gone.

"Dean, I see you are well. Where's your brother?" Sherlock, completely unfazed by the newcomers, stood by the desk.

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about. He was on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."