Hello! I am just here to warn you that uploading chapters might be a bit slow. I made the horrible decision of starting a million different stories at once, so... yah all of my free time just goes to writing these stories. Don't be mad at me for not uploading in a while, it just takes a bit of time. DON'T WORRY! I will not just stop this story(or any of my other stories), I will continue to write until I get to the end of it(if it ever ends anyway). I am not mean, and I do not just drop stories. However it might be while. So if it takes me a long time then don't think I dropped it. Keep your hopes up and wait for my inevitable upload! Anyway, Enjoy :)
Last time: Cas moaning in pleasure flashed in his brain and his face went redder.
"Are you ok, Dean? You look red." Cas said, tilting his head.
"Yah, I'm fine. Um, what time is it?" He asked.
"I don't know. This ship is very odd. You can't tell time very good here." Cas said, looking at one of the walls. "But I would say it would be about 8:00 pm. I must have dosed off. A lot of time has passed since you summoned me here."
"Angels can sleep?" Dean asked.
"We don't need to, but we could. Our vessels allow us to sleep if we want. Although I've never fallen asleep without knowing." Cas said, tilting his head.
Dean hummed and then grabbed a pillow to put over his lap, "Does this place have a bathroom?" He asked. A door then appeared on one of the walls and Dean looked curiously at it. Cas turned around to look at the door and Dean took the chance to walk towards it. Luckily he got past Cas without him seeing the tent in his pants and he walked into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and looked down at his problem. He ignored his dream and focused on getting a cold shower.
Meanwhile, Cas sat outside thinking about what just happened. Before he woke Dean up, he could have sworn he heard Dean say his name. He shook the thought away and fell back on the bed. He took a deep breath and focused on relaxing. Cas fell asleep thinking of Dean, the best thing he thought that could have ever happened to him.
A while later, Dean emerged from the bathroom in a towel. He saw that Cas had fallen asleep and he suddenly remembered that he didn't grab their duffel bag full of clothes. He silently cursed, "Um, is it possible for you to give me some clothes?" He whispered, feeling silly talking to a ship. The Tardis made a groan of approval and a second later another door appeared in the room. he opened it and found it was a small closet filled with clothes. He picked out some boxers and some pyjamas and changed. He went to his bed and laid down under the covers. He sighed before falling into a dreamless sleep.
A few hours later...
"Dean! Dean!" Someone screamed into the room.
Dean's eyes slowly opened and he groaned. He propped himself up and saw Sam standing in the doorway. "What?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Get up. We need to plan." Sam said, throwing him the duffel bag filled with clothes.
Dean threw his legs over the side of the bed, and sat up. He looked at the other bed and saw Cas curled up on his side sleeping soundly. Dean smiled and then threw the duffel bag at him, "Cas, wake up!" He screamed.
Cas jumped up and he had an angel blade in his hand, "What? What? What is it?" He said in a groggy voice, looking around.
Dean grabbed his arm and took the angel blade out of his hand, "Cas, stop it. It's just me."
"Oh." Cas said, dropping back down on the bed.
Dean threw a pillow at him, "No, get up. We have planning to do." He said.
"Alright." Cas said, sitting back up. His hair was crazier than usual and his eyes were half-closed.
Dean couldn't help the flutter he felt in his stomach. He brushed it off, "I'm going to go change. You... get cleaned up." He said, gesturing to his rumpled clothes. Cas nodded and Dean took the duffel bag into the bathroom with him. Dean emerged a minute later with new clothes. "Come on, Cas." He said, walking towards the door. Cas's clothes were no longer rumpled and they looked freshly washed. "Do you have any other clothes besides those?" Dean asked, gesturing to his outfit.
"I do not require another outfit. My grace can easily restore them." Cas said, in his usual monotone voice.
"Whatever." Dean replied, rolling his eyes. "Come on we have work to do." He walked out the door and down the hall to console room. The Doctor, Rose and Sam were already there. "What time is it?" He asked.
"It's nine thirty." The Doctor answered. "Now we have approximately thirty minutes until John decides to... you know. Now what can we do?"
"We can break the door in and stop him before he kicks the bucket." Dean suggested. Everyone just stared at him, "What? It's not like Johnny boy here is going to welcome us into his home. Especially at a time when he's so vulnerable. If we knock he probably won't even come to the door. He'll just wait until we leave."
"Dean's got a point." Rose said, looking between Sam and the Doctor, "The guy's not going to come to the door. The best thing to do is probably pick the lock and run in when he's about to do it."
Sam sighed, "Yah, I'll go get the duffel bag." He said, walking down the hall.
"I can just transport you guys in. Wouldn't that be easier?" Cas said, turning to Dean.
"Well, it would be easier. But I don't think popping up would really help us. I think it might scare the guy." Dean explained. "Sam and I will go get him while you three stay in the getaway car."
The three people nodded, "It's almost time." The Doctor said.
Sam came in with the duffel bag and handed it to Dean. "Cas can you do us a favor?" Dean asked.
"Yes Dean. What do you need?"
"I need you to go back to Harvelle's Roadhouse and get the Impala. We need to get some things out of the trunk." Dean said, looking at Sam.
"Alright Dean." And with that said, Cas disappeared.
"Woah." The Doctor said running over to where Cas had disappeared. "How did he do that?" He asked, looking around.
"I don't really know. The easiest way to explain it is either say he flew away or its magic." Sam said.
"Wait, magic is real?" Rose asked.
"Well, people say magic but-" The Doctor started.
"Yah, it is." Sam interrupted.
The Doctor looked at him with a confused expression, "What?"
"Magic is real. You know spells and curses and things." Sam explained.
"Interesting. So you've seen it?" The Doctor asked.
"Yah." Sam answered.
"Anyway, Cas should be back now with the Impala, so..." Dean trailed off, heading towards the door. Sam followed him out and both were met with the sight of Cas standing next to a parked Impala. Dean beamed at the car, "My baby." He walked over and patted the hood. "Thanks Cas."
"Your welcome, Dean. I know how fond you are of your car." Cas replied.
The Doctor and Rose went out and looked at the car. Dean and Sam walked to the trunk with the Doctor and Rose following. They opened the trunk and the Doctor grimaced, "Guns. I'm not very fond of guns."
"Yah, well in our line of duty, having guns is an inevitability." Dean said, pulling out a hand gun and tucking it in its usual spot. Sam pulled one out, too.
"Violence is never the answer. There's always a choice." The Doctor said, a serious expression on his face.
"Look, Doctor. I appreciate your enthusiasm but sometimes... there's not a choice." Dean said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
The Doctor looked to be about to object, but Sam interrupted him, "Ok, time to get a move on. We have a guy to save. Get in." Sam said heading for the driver seat.
"No, Sam." Dean said, grabbing his arm.
Sam groaned, "Fine." He said walking to the passenger side.
"Cas, you're riding with us." Dean said. He saw Cas open his mouth to tell him that he didn't need to, but he cut him off, "Nope, you're riding with us." Cas sighed but headed for the back door. The Doctor, Rose and Cas sat in the back while Sam and Dean sat in the front. "So where does this guy live?" Dean asked, looking in the rearview mirror at the Doctor.
"221B Baker Street." The Doctor said. "I'll tell you where to go." The Doctor added as he saw Deans confused face.
Dean drove while the Doctor told him directions, and in the end they made it to 221B with five minutes to spare. They all climbed out and Dean headed for the door, but Sam stopped him, "Dean, Sherlock said we had to go at the exact moment John does it. We still have five minutes."
"What so we're just going to sit here for five minutes." Dean said, looking at Sam.
"If that's what it takes to save him then yes." Sam argued. Dean sighed but nodded. The time was 9:56.
Inside 221B...
The time was 9:56 and John Hamish Watson was sitting on the couch unmoving. He looked at the drawer where he kept his pistol and his mind wandered. He thought about taking it out but he shook the thought away.
Seconds ticked away until it was 9:57. He sat there staring at the tea he had made, watching the steam rise and dissapear into the air. He turned his head towards the far wall, staring but not seeing. John was deep in thought, thinking of an old friend that had left him. He didn't know when he got up, or when he walked over to the drawer, but he knew he was there. He stared at the handle on the drawer not quite comprehending how he got there. Still his mind wandered back to past events.
Flashback*
They were running. They were running and adrenaline pumped through John's veins. He hadn't felt this alive since the war. His eyes stayed ahead, never letting his new companion out of his sight for more than a second. A smile stretched across his face as he watched Sherlock's coat flap behind him like wings. He had made the right decision coming to 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was just what John needed to feel alive again. He saw Sherlock run into their new home and he ran in behind him, shutting the door in the process. They both leaned against the wall panting and smiling like idiots. "That... is the most ridiculous thing I have ever done." John panted out, a smile still on his face.
"Well you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock retorted. There was a brief pause and then the two started to laugh. Yes, John had made the right decision coming to 221B Baker Street.
Flashback Ended*
John smiled slightly as he reached to open the forbidden drawer with his left hand. It was still, no tremor in sight. He saw the pistol like a safe haven. A 'stairway to heaven' if you wanted to make a cruel joke out of it. He smiled again, taking the gun in his hand. "Sherlock." He whispered the forbidden word. He hadn't said his name since the fall.
The time was 9:59. John looked down at his hand. The pistol glinted in the morning light and his gaze drifted to the smiley face on the wall. It would look so much better red. He thought, his mind making a cruel joke about what he was about to do. He lifted the pistol to his temple and closed his eyes, I'm coming Sherlock. "I'll be with you soon." He whispered, cocking the gun. A smile appeared on his face as he thought about his dear consultant detective, "Sherlock Holmes." He murmured the name, his finger just about to pull the trigger, when suddenly the door to 221B was kicked open and two men ran in. The time was exactly 10 am.
One of them, a very tall long-haired fellow, ran and knocked the gun out of Johns hand, while the other, a short blonde haired guy, restrained John before he could do anything. Now John wasn't exactly weak but he was just too tired to fight back, so he sagged in the blonde-haired guys grasp, not putting up any kind of fight. The long-haired one looked at him with a sincere expression and smiled, "John Watson," He said, in an american accent. "I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. We came here to tell you some very wonderful news." He said, soothingly. He gave his brother a look and Dean let him go, leading him to the couch, unsure if he could carry his own weight.
John sank into the cushions and looked at Sam a grimace on his face, "Nothing is wonderful, anymore. So tell me the news and get the hell out of my flat so I can paint that smiley face on the wall red." John growled at him, his eyes narrowing into slits. I just want to be with Sherlock. His mind pleaded.
Sam smiled again, "Well, John Watson... Sherlock is alive." He said, his smile growing.
John couldn't believe his ears. Had he heard right? His eyes widened, and he looked at Sam with a disbelieving look, "What?" He squeaked out.
"Sherlock Holmes lives." He said again.
"No. No. He's dead. He died, he cannot be alive." John said, shaking his head.
Then a phone beeped and Sam pulled out his phone, "John, have you been anywhere recently?" He asked, while reading the text.
He thought about it, "No."
"That's a lie, you went to your therapist yesterday, right?" Sam asked again.
"Yah I did, how did you-"
Sam cut him off, "Go get your dog tags?"
John tensed, "What?"
"You want proof that he's alive, then go get your dog tags." Sam said urgently.
John thought about it and then almost ran to his room. He dropped to his knees and pulled out the box he kept under his bed. In it contained all of his memorabilia of the army. His suit, his tags, everything. He hadn't looked in it for a while but he remembered that he kept his suit nicely folded and his tags laid on top, along with any medals he had gotten. He tore open the lid and instead of seeing his tags laid neatly on top of his suit, he found a note. It read, Hello, John. Not dead. -SH. He knew the handwriting could belong to no one other than Sherlock Holmes. John couldn't believe it. After so long, he was... alive. John smiled, "The bastards alive." He whispered, chuckling to himself.