I really hope I'll be able to have more Mycroft scenes later, but only if I can get them to fit in nicely. Hopefully I'll have a lot more time to write tonight. This chapter seemed so much longer when I was writing it then the first, but anyway. Please enjoy!

"Mycroft?" Dean repeated in shock from the name.

Sam quickly interrupted Dean before he could comment further, "Holmes as in Sherlock's...?"

"Elder brother," Mycroft answered.

"Cheekbones has a brother?" Dean looked at him questioningly.

Mycroft smirked, "Yes, very powerful brother, who needs some questions answered. And since I know who you are, I highly recommend answering them."

"Alright, Minecraft," Dean said in his best smart ass tone, "What do you want to know?"

The Holmes looked at him, feeling very annoyed, but continued, "What happened after my brother met you?"

Mycroft watched the Winchesters carefully as they thought of an answer. Sam was obviously cold and uncomfortable in his small towel, but he answered first, "He proved that we were innocent." Technically not a lie.

"Obviously not innocent of everything, otherwise you wouldn't be hiding," Mycroft looked that over. Dean was covered in dirt and still smelled like fire, Sam was shivering, "I see that you two have been up to some of your old tricks. I want to know why my brother is acting strange, strange even for Sherlock."

Sam and Dean gave each other a look, "Strange how?" Sam asked.

"He's been sneaking around more, avoiding me more than usual. And he's been solving more cases, but catching less murders." Mycroft watched the Winchesters reaction as he spoke. The brothers looked at each other again. Neither seemed too surprised by the news, rather frustrated, actually. Were they expecting something like this?

"What is it?" Mycroft demanded.

"Sherlock might be in over his head," Sam explained as calmly as he could.

"Has his eyes ummm... randomly turned black or anything?" Dean asked carefully.

Mycroft stared at Dean for a second, "Turned black how?"

"Like completely black, the whole thing," Dean said gesturing towards his own eyes.

"No," Mycroft answered truthfully, "why do you ask?"

Dean had an 'oh shit' look on his face as he struggled to answer.

Sam quickly went to answer, "Well you see, when Sherlock was with us we ran into some trouble, we got out of it, but Sherlock might be in trouble again."

A cold, angry expression washed over Mycroft's calm features.

"We can get him out of it." He reassured.

"Why should I trust you?" Mycroft examined them again and again, looking for any signs of betrayal.

"You don't really have much of an option, umbrella boy," Dean spat out, "Whatever trouble Sherlock's in, we're the only ones who can get him out of it."

"Why are you the only ones who can assist him?" Mycroft kept his calm demeanor, even though his was extremely annoyed by Dean's attitude.

Sam sensed Mycroft's frustration and jumped in before Dean could make things any worse, "We're specialists in this sorry of thing, ."

"Specialists at what?"

Dean looked him straight in the eye, "Killing things."

Mycroft looked at his men, "Will you please get Sam some clothes, he seems rather chilly in his towel. He and his brother have a long flight ahead of them."