I was going to wait until the 15th to put it up but since school starts tomorrow I said might as well just post it today before I forget. Hope you like it!


"Make yourselves at home," Sam practically gushed, leading both Gabriel and Sherlock into the kitchen where Kevin had already drawn a devil's trap and other warding symbols.

"Just trying to be safe," he shrugged sheepishly when Sam gave him a raised eyebrow. When Kevin saw their "guests" it seemed like he wanted to ask who they were, but he decided to just keep his curiosity to himself and went to get a clean dish rag to begin cleaning up the symbols he'd painted.

Dean came bustling in just then, burger in one hand and shotgun in the other. He set the shotgun down and gave his burger a huge bite. "S'rry if 'm being rude by eatin' in fron' of you two," he swallowed his mouthful, "but it's Sunday morning and I'm starving." He then opened up the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers. He only took out three: one for himself, one for Gabriel, and one for Sherlock. He knew Sam didn't like to drink so early in the day, and Kevin wasn't quite old enough to drink alcohol legally anyways.

"S'okay, Dean-o," Gabriel replied taking a seat at the kitchen counter, "we grabbed ourselves something to eat at a diner in town before showing up here. But," his eyes gleamed mischievously, "I will take one of those." Dean set a bottle on the counter in front of Gabriel and lifted the other one in Sherlock's direction.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose slightly before saying, "No, thank you."

"Well suit yourself, man," Dean responded, taking a drink from his bottle.

Kevin had begun cleaning up the warding symbols and barely glanced up in order to mask his curiosity as he asked, "Dudes? Who exactly are these two?"

Sam set his own gun down on the counter before going over and bringing Kevin from his place on the kitchen floor to properly introduce him to their guests. "This is Gabriel," Sam said, indicating the short man with the dark blonde hair and the crazy grin, "He's an Archangel."

"Damn right," Gabriel answered, taking a long drink from the bottle Dean had given him.

"And this," Sam continued, almost bursting with suppressed joy, "is Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock extended his hand towards Kevin, "It's a pleasure to meet y-"

"Oh my God!" Kevin exclaimed, taking a hold of Sherlock's hand and shaking it vigorously. "I'm Kevin Tran, Advanced Placement Honors Student, and current Prophet of the Lord," he said quickly, "I'm a giant fan Mr. Holmes, a giant fan!" He seemed to regain his composure because he stood up straight and gestured at both Sam and himself, "We're both avid readers of your friend's blog."

"Ooooh, that," Sherlock practically groaned.

"Wait, what's going on?" Gabriel asked, thoroughly confused that both Kevin AND Sam were freaking out so much about some guy they'd just met. "What do you mean 'giant fan'?"

"So that's why Sammy acted like a star struck middle-schooler when he heard Sherlock's name!" Dean laughed. He turned to Gabriel, "Sherlock's this famous internet detective. Or well a part of a detective duo, his cases are all online, on the blog of a Doctor…"

"Watson!" Sherlock, Kevin, and Sam supplied, all with varying degrees of excitement/ fondness.

"Yeah, Doctor Watson's blog. They read it all the time honestly," Dean finished with a chuckle.

Gabriel digested the information for a moment then began to ask "So, John, your roommate…"

"Flatmate," Sherlock corrected.

"Flatmate, whatever. John…writes a blog about all your little adventures together?" Gabriel wanted to see how Sherlock would react to the question. He knew he had a soft spot for John, which was something normal to have for someone you lived with, but the emotions he'd felt around Sherlock whenever anything having to do with John came up suggested that there was something more. Plus, the fact that Sherlock talks when he sleeps gave Gabriel more reason to believe there was something else there.

And, to prove Gabriel's assumption further, Sherlock began to grow slightly pink as he answered the question. "Yes, he does. I used to find it oh so frustrating and annoying, having everything exposed to the public. I mean, how am I to keep my anonymity if everyone knows who I am and what I do?"

"But…?" Gabriel supplied.

"But what?" Sherlock deadpanned.

"You said you 'used to' find it annoying. How do you feel about it now?" Gabriel knew he had him cornered.

Sam, Dean, and Kevin were watching this little exchange like spectators at a tennis match.

"Oh, did I say 'used to'?" Sherlock asked, feigning innocence, "I meant to say that I do find it annoying and frustrating." Sherlock then gave Gabriel a sharp look, one that said We'll discuss this later.

Gabriel only shrugged, "Oh alright, then." He turned to the boys, "So, any word on what happened in Heaven that sent us all crashing down?"

"We know it was a spell," Kevin said, "Metatron used the Angel Tablet to flush all the angels out of Heaven. Except for himself, of course."

"The scribe?" Gabriel asked incredulously, almost spitting out his beer.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "He got his hands on the angel tablet and got Cas to help him-"

"Cas was tricked into helping Metatron," Dean interrupted, quickly defending Cas. "Metatron made Cas believe that he was closing the gates of Heaven. I thought I was never going to hear from him again the night the angels fell-" Dean cut himself off, feeling himself getting so worked up over something that happened more than a month and a half ago.

Sam gave Dean a comforting pat on the back, "It's been pretty hard, trying to find homes for the angels that fell. We did get the majority of them under Hunter custody. They're teaching them either how to just live out the time being on co-pilot in a host body," Sam gave Dean a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder when he felt his brother jump slightly, "or how to hunt. There haven't been any major mishaps with the angels so far but…"

"It'd be best if you got them back to Heaven." Sherlock finished.

"Yeah," Sam answered.

Gabriel stood up from his chair and stretched a bit as he asked, "How's my brother Cassie doing, anyway?" He saw the way Dean dropped his gaze and both Sam and Kevin grimaced slightly. He started to feel himself grow slightly worried as he pressed, "You have heard from my baby brother, right?"

"We heard from him the following morning, after the fall," Sam said forlornly.

"He called me…on our way home from the Hell trials," Dean sighed. He then turned to look at Gabriel, "We haven't heard anything from him since."

He knew he shouldn't push it, Gabriel knew he shouldn't feel the anger blossoming inside him but he just couldn't help it. He wanted to yell at the boys, tell them that they were supposed to take care of Cas, but one look at Dean and he knew that it was no use: they knew they had messed up. And it hurt them severely knowing that one of their closest friends was out there doing God knows what…if he were still alive, that is. Stop that, Gabriel chided himself. He had to hope for the best; it was no use to freak out about the worst case scenarios. That would only bring upon more worry. In the end, Gabriel only shrugged, trying to gain as much of his playful air as possible, "Castiel's a big boy now; he knows how to take care of himself."

Kevin and Sam nodded, but Dean only took a swig from his beer and stared out at nothing in particular, deeply lost in thought.

Sherlock could pretty much taste the despair and desolation in the air, so he decided to steer the conversation back to the (biggest) problem at hand. "Gentlemen," he began, getting the general attention of the room, "so Metatron, God's scribe, banished all the angels from Heaven to Earth using a spell he found on the 'Angel Tablet'?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed.

"Is there any way we can get the Tablet back?" Sherlock asked.

"Not that we know of," Dean answered, coming out of his reverie and setting his bottle of booze down.

Sherlock pondered the information for a few seconds. A spell. A Tablet. The Scribe. A Prophet. He remembered a piece of information Gabriel had told him. A demon. The King of Hell. He backtracked. A Prophet.

A very young Prophet.

"Mr. Tran," Kevin jumped slightly at being addressed by Sherlock so directly, "you translated the Angel Tablet I presume?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Kevin muttered before clearing his throat and continuing in a much steadier voice, "I've got all the notes in my room." Everyone just stared at Kevin in silence until he understood and he jumped out of his seat exclaiming, "I'll go get them!" as he ran off towards his room.

"You think there could be some sort of 'undo' spell for whatever Metatron cast?" Gabriel asked excitedly.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, "There isn't anything. We've had Kevin combing his notes for over a month, and he hasn't found a thing." He turned to Sherlock, "Having Kevin go through his notes again won't lead to anything new."

"I know that," Sherlock replied quickly, "but I noticed that the boy is fresh out of high school, probably 20 years old." Sam frowned and Dean bit his lower lip, obviously feeling as if they'd forgotten something but not being able to recall what exactly they had forgotten as Sherlock carried on "And since he's a prophet, he probably doesn't have much field work when it comes to this whole 'Saving People, Hunting Things, the Family Business' stuff you Winchesters have become accustomed to. Therefore I wasn't going to make my request in front of-"

"Wait, how do you know that's what I say about being a Hunter?" Dean asked abruptly, very suspicious about having had Sherlock basically recite the exact words he'd said to Sam all those years ago.

"I read Carver Edlund's novelizations of your lives. I believe it was in the second book, Wendigo, where you and Sam helped the siblings find their lost brother at Blackwater Ridge," he said matter-of-factly.

Both Sam and Dean groaned. "You got him to read the books?" Sam asked Gabriel incredulously.

Gabriel shrugged and gave a shy smile, "Sorry dude, he wanted to know about everything and well I knew that the books were the best way to fill him in without forgetting anything."

Dean just shook his head but didn't press Gabriel further. Instead he turned to Sherlock. "What's this 'request'?"

Sherlock steepled his fingers, "Our kind friend here," he inclined his head towards Gabriel, "has informed me you have a demon in this bunker. To be more specific, you have the King of Hell here. Am I correct?"

If looks could kill, Gabriel would've probably been dead by now with the glare Dean shot his way. Gabriel just lifted his hands in a placating gesture as Dean huffed, "Yeah, what about him?"

"May I talk to him?" Sherlock asked.

Dean turned to Sam and they shared a silent exchange. Sam seemed to be pretty okay with letting Sherlock talk to Crowley, but Dean wasn't so sure. They barely knew the guy! Well, he barely knew the guy, Sam on the other hand knew this guy's life story like the back of his hand. Dean shook his head the tiniest bit to show Sam he was not okay. Sam just gave him the saddest freaking puppy eyes he could muster. And God, for a 30-year-old, they were pretty damn effective.

Sighing, Dean stood up whilst answering Sherlock's question. "Yeah, you can talk to him."


Jack jumped out of the chair he'd been sitting in and ran to the window. He knew that sound. Please, please, please be the Doctor and not my imagination, he thought. Jack looked out and, sure enough, there was the TARDIS materializing out of thin air in the parking lot of his motel.

The Doctor had just begun to open up the TARDIS door when Jack had already sprinted out his room and was shouting at him from the second story outdoor hallway. "Doctor!" Jack shouted waving his arms.

"Why, hello Jack!" the Doctor answered back, watching Jack bound down the stairs two at a time until he stood before him, slightly out of breath.

"Oh my God, it is great to see you!" Jack exclaimed, pulling the Doctor into a tight hug. He pulled back and saw Rose peek her head out the TARDIS door with a wide grin.

"Oi, can't you two have your reunion on the road?" she asked, trying to sound stern and scolding but failing and instead sounding immensely pleased that their old friend was joining them.

"Yeah, we'd better get going. And you'd better tell us what's going on whilst we travel, Jack, because we've got things to tell you about too," the Doctor said, turning slightly grave and going back into the TARDIS.

Jack followed him onboard and gave Rose a quick hug and a "I've missed you, blondie" before he rounded the TARDIS central control unit to sit at the chairs he knew would be on the other side. What he didn't expect to see was a disgruntled man in a red hoodie, blue jacket, jeans and sneakers sitting in one of the chairs and staring around the TARDIS in wonder.

"Why, helloooo," Jack purred.

"Hello," the man answered politely, looking over at him.

Jack was about to compliment the man when the Doctor walked over and sat beside him, giving him a stern look. "Don't even think about it," he scolded.

"I was only saying hi!" Jack exclaimed, jumping on the defensive.

"Mmmhmmm," Rose hummed, "sure you were 'only saying hi', you big flirt." She walked over to the man and sat next to him.

He turned to her and quietly asked, "Is this Captain Jack Harkness?"

"Sure am, handsome," Jack grinned, "and don't think I mind handing over leadership in certain situations," he finished with a wink.

"I don't think I understand," the man said, turning from Jack, to the Doctor, to Rose, clueless and hoping for an explanation.

Jack gave him a seductive smile, "Don't worry, I can show y-"

"Castiel," the Doctor interrupted, shooting Jack a pointed look telling him to kindly stop, "how about you tell Jack what's happened?"

"Oh, so your name's Castiel, huh?" Jack sat forward in his seat, "seems like such a heavenly name."

Castiel's face fell slightly. Rose patted his arm before she cleared her throat, "Yeah, um, that's kind of what we're going to be discussing."

"Heavenly names?" Jack asked, confused.

The Doctor stood up from beside Jack and began to pull levers and push buttons on the TARDIS central control. "Nope, just about Heaven and what's gone wrong," the Doctor called out from somewhere along the control panel.

Jack suddenly grew serious as he asked Castiel, "Wait, so you know what's going on?" He turned to look at the Doctor and then at Rose, "You all know?"

"Yeah," Rose answered before inquiring her own question, "you know about it too?"

"That's why I'd been trying to get a hold of you guys." Jack could feel that whatever these three were going to tell him was going to throw a wrench in his already precarious understanding of the situation.

"Well, Castiel here has some very important information about what's gone wrong, and while we'll fill you in on the way, we've gotta go and find the 'go-to' Hunter team," the Doctor said, reappearing beside Jack and turning to Castiel, "where did you say we had to go?"

"Lebanon," Castiel quickly responded, "Lebanon, Kansas."

"To Lebanon, Kansas it is!" The Doctor exclaimed, running back to the controls and punching in the coordinates, "Allons-y!"


Sam, Dean, Sherlock, and Gabriel all stood outside Crowley's holding cell. "…just look, he can be a real dick most of the time," Sam finished, making sure Sherlock and Gabriel both knew how to deal with Crowley.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Bigfoot," Gabriel grinned. "He won't get under our skin, right Sher?" he elbowed Sherlock lightly.

Sherlock was looking through the rows of books and boxes obscuring Crowley from view and only absentmindedly nodded in agreement.

Dean pulled the lever and the shelves began to move out of the way, opening up the dungeon where Crowley sat chained to a chair in the middle of a Devil's Trap. "Don't say we didn't warn you," he muttered.

Crowley blinked to get his eyes adjusted to the light before asking "What d'you numbskulls want today?" He squinted a little and made out that there were two others with the Winchesters. "Finally found your fallen angel?" he smirked at Dean as he stepped into Crowley's cell. Sam followed close behind and threw Dean a warning look when he saw how heated Crowley's comment had left him.

Dean was about to open his mouth with a scathing retort but was cut short when Gabriel waltzed into the cell and exclaimed, "Fallen angel? Yep. Dean's…" He turned to Dean and gave him a once over, "Nah, don't think so. Little bro's already called dibs on the guy." Gabriel finally turned his gaze to Crowley. "Crowley," he greeted.

"Gabriel," Crowley returned, mildly surprised, "I thought you'd been killed by big brother Luci."

Gabriel shrugged, "Can't really get the luxury to die now, can I? Not with these two idiots in charge of keeping the world safe."

Crowley snorted, "You've got that right." He then glanced over Gabriel's shoulder, "Who's your friend over there?"

"Oh, him?" Gabriel asked, turning slightly and seeing that Sherlock hadn't followed him. "That's my boy toy, picked him up from the land of tea and biscuits after I fell," he smirked turning to the Winchesters and seeing that they almost cracked a smile.

Sherlock had been observing the whole exchange from the shadows but decided to now walk into the cell after Gabriel's "introduction". He came to a stop before the demon and outstretched his hand, "Sherlock-"

"Holmes," Crowley finished, bringing his chained hand to shake Sherlock's. "I've heard a lot about you, especially after you made enemies with Moriarty. Kept a special eye on you."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock asked, not having expected this at all.

"King of Hell has to have some form of entertainment. So are you 'Prepared to burn', Sherlock? 'Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do'?" Crowley drawled.

Sherlock felt a cold hand grip his heart and send shivers down his spine, but he did not let it show. He had his stoic expression set in place and was not going to let Crowley see what he was doing. However, even though Crowley couldn't see what Sherlock was feeling, he could most certainly sense it. And so could Gabriel.

The Winchesters just watched the both of them, confused but waiting to see how this would play out – Dean seeing this as a chance to see whether Sherlock could be trusted and Sam using this as a chance to see how Crowley would try to turn them on the detective.

Crowley carried on when he saw no one was going to interrupt him, "'You want me to shake hands with you in Hell', Mr. Holmes? Because I'll make sure 'I shall not disappoint you'." Sherlock was starting to crack slightly, his breaths coming in short, imperceptible gasps. "But, who am I kidding, right Sherlock? 'You're ordinary', and 'You're on the side of the Angels.'"

Sherlock's words came rushing back to him, words he'd said over two years ago on the rooftop of St. Barts Hospital. "'I may be on the side of the Angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them,'" he whispered hoarsely. He gripped his scarf and twisted it around trying to keep the bile from rising in his throat. He knew he'd just played right into Crowley's hands. "How did you know about that?" Sherlock asked, turning cold eyes to Crowley.

"Kept a special eye on you, dearie," Crowley drawled, "Why, any King of Hell would have done the same after seeing so much potential in a future demon."

The room grew so silent a pin drop could have been heard.

"Sherlock get out," Dean growled, breaking the silence, "Go see Kevin's notes. Now."

Sherlock's head whipped to Dean so fast it was a miracle he didn't snap his neck. He'd forgotten that Dean, Sam, and Gabriel were in the room. He seemed to want to protest his dismissal but thought better of it seeing how tense Dean was - jaw clenched and hands shaking slightly.

Gabriel ushered Sherlock out of the cell and quietly followed, slightly afraid that Dean might do something rash when he was as tense as he was at the moment.

As soon as Gabriel and Sherlock were out of the room, the Winchesters turned towards Crowley. "You know Sherlock?" Dean asked, demanding tone to his voice.

"Of course not," Crowley answered, feigning innocence, "I just kept a close watch on him."

"Was that it?" Sam pressed venomously.

"Whoa there, spitfire. And, yes, that was it. He was never aware that I was monitoring him," Crowley finished with a yawn. "Now can you both leave me alone? I need my beauty sleep."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance and wordlessly left the Crowley's cell, locking it up on their way out. Only when they were finally out in the hallway did they talk again.

"We can't trust him," Dean deadpanned.

"Who: Sherlock or Crowley?" Sam asked.

Dean wiped a hand across his face, already feeling tired, "Neither of them. You heard Crowley, he talks about Sherlock like some proud Demon-Daddy."

"But you said it yourself," Sam countered, "We can't trust Crowley. He was probably just baiting Sherlock and hoping that we wouldn't trust him afterward."

"Sam, we can't afford to trust Sherlock and then have him turn on us," Dean sighed.

"Gabriel trusts him," Sam pushed, "and even though you may not like to admit it, he's good when it comes to judging character."

Dean was about to argue that No, they just could trust Sherlock when suddenly a sharp knock rang through the bunker.

"What was that?" Sam asked slowly, looking up at where he knew the bunker door would be since they were a couple of levels underground.

"Seems like we've got more visitors," Dean grumbled as he made his way to the stairs.


"Agh!" John hissed, stepping out of his warm shower.

He reached for his towel with lightning rapidity, drying himself and throwing on his clothes. It was 2 o'clock and he getting ready to take the afternoon shift at the clinic. He'd woken up at 7 in the morning to a good morning text from Sherlock, one which he promptly responded before rolling over and going back to sleep. During Sherlock's first week away, Sherlock had been so wrapped up in his research that he'd call John sporadically, at the most random times of the day. These last two days John received periodic texts from Sherlock at the same times – always a good morning text at 7 am and a good night text at 9 pm. At first John had scolded Sherlock for waking up at 2 in the morning in America only to say good morning to him but Sherlock waved his worries aside, saying that it was just a quick text before he went back to sleep. And if John were completely honest with himself, he'd admit that he did like that Sherlock was keeping up his end of the bargain and texting him daily.

John bustled into the kitchen, setting the kettle on and putting some toast in the toaster. It was too late to be making himself breakfast, but since he'd only had a couple of biscuits with some hot chocolate that morning, breakfast seemed like a good choice this afternoon.

Spreading jam onto his toast, John thought about the last month, a month that held major changes to his life.

The first (and the most important) change was that Sherlock had come back from the dead. Or, well, he'd come back from destroying Moriarty's network. Whilst at first John had felt betrayed and extremely angry, he'd just felt so happy, excited, relieved, grateful, and a whole lot of other joyous emotions as he strangled the lanky detective in the restaurant where he'd made his presence known to John.

The second change (which made John a bit sad) was that Mary left him. It had come with absolutely no warning. They'd dated for more than a year, hell, he was going to ask her to marry him the same night Sherlock came back, but in the end she left. It'd been a week since Sherlock had come back: all she did was that she packed his bags and told him they couldn't be together anymore. She'd had such a sad smile when he'd asked her "Why?" and she responded, "You'll thank me eventually."

That led to him coming back to 221B Baker Street and asking his best friend if he could have his old place back. Sherlock had been more than happy to have John back and that had made the pain of having been dumped by Mary hurt much less.

John had been so sad, so heartbroken at first, but, under it all, he'd felt a complete sense of relief. He hadn't known from what, he still didn't, but he knew it had something to do with not having to stay with Mary. It had something to do with being able to come back and stand by his best friend, just like old times. John had loved Mary, but he loved Sherlock much more – as, as a friend, of course.

Just as a friend.

He sighed to himself and quickly took the last bites of his toast and gulped down his tea. He felt his appetite begin to decrease as he began to smell what seemed to be rotten eggs. Sherlock's probably left another experiment to rot, he thought, taking a final sip of tea. I'll clean the flat later and find whatever's gone bad. He then made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and 5 minutes later was putting on his jacket and heading downstairs to the front door.

Then the lights started to flicker.

"Mrs. Hudson? You want me to get these lights checked out later?" John called out. He merely shrugged when he received no response and continued down the stairs, knowing Mrs. Hudson was probably already out running errands.

"Johnny dear, I don't think you'll be able to check those lights out later," a voice drawled from the top of the staircase. "And bless Mrs. Hudson's heart, she went out to buy new blubs as soon as these started to flicker."

John froze in his tracks, blood running cold. He'd heard that voice before. It was seared to his brain. It was the voice that haunted his nightmares.

He slowly turned to look at the man in the tailored suit standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him with a bored expression.

"Long time no see, John," he suddenly grinned maliciously.

John stumbled back, scrabbling for the front door. No, it couldn't be, no, no, no, no, no, no! –

The man nonchalantly strolled down the stairs, John trying to get the door open – but it was no use. It seemed to have been sealed tight by some unknown force.

"Y-you're dead-" John choked out through his panicked fear turning back to the man.

The man came to stand right before John and crouched down to get to his eye level. John felt as if his heart stopped when the man's brown eyes suddenly became engulfed in black. "Oh John," he whispered, almost affectionately. He reached out and patted John's cheek, "You're absolutely right."


Oh no! John's in trouble! Sherlock, where ever could you be?

And sorry, no Destiel reunion yet, but don't worry, you'll get it soon enough!

Hope you liked the chapter, and I'll see you next month!