Sherlock

I awoke with a fright, trying to make out my surroundings. I was on my couch...but why? When? How?

Suddenly, it comes back to me with the unbearable ache all over my body.

I stood outside taking a deep breath and watching London pedestrians pass me by. I inspected everyone, trying to imagine how all their lives were.
A woman in a red trench coat dragged a small child behind her. Her face was cold while the child's was quite concerned. I pictured that the woman was a high end real estate agent by her apparel. Single mother, no wedding ring visible. Her son probably had a feeling of abandonment due to his absent father and work attached mother.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned, gob-smacked.
Dean's face. It was...terrifying. His jaw was dislocating, his eyes white and bulging. I shook staring at him. Cuts and bruises, blood seeping from wounds, bones visible.

"Sherlock?" He asks and although his voice was normal, the rest was far from it. I backed away in fear of him, unsure really of what else to do. He put a hand out and I swear I saw a knife.
I was unarmed and Dean was obviously stronger then I. I backed away from him trying to hide my fear and plan my get away.

"Sherlock," He says wearily but his face...his face was horrifying. He looked ready to kill me. "Sherlock!" He yells, starting for me. I watch his hand reach out to grab my shirt before-

"Sherlock?" I hear Sam's quiet voice from across the room. I watch him as he approaches with a bowl in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a bus." I respond trying to sit up. He scoffs sitting down beside me and putting the bowl on the coffee table.

"Almost." He says. "But not quite." That's right. Dean had thrown me out of the way. I collided with the side of a moving car that nearly plowed me over. I shake the memory from my head.

"Dean was different...he was-"

"You're starting to halucinate." Sam tells me. "It wasn't real." I nod once.

"Where are the others?" I ask him curiously, placing the bowl in my lap. He stands, walking to the window. Outside, the sun was setting. It was a red and orange mixture of light that seeped threw the glass, staining Sam's body.

"They left a little while ago to get some gauze and alcohol rub." He tells me. I look down at the cuts and bruises on my hands. "They'll be home shortly."

"And Castiel?"

"Still looking for Kevin."

"So you didn't find him."

"No, we didn't. We're out of options as well."

There's a breath of silence before the door opens and both John and Dean walk in. They stare for a moment before John walks close carefully.

"Hey," He says in a hushed tone. "are you-"

"I'm fine." I tell him, looking down at the soup Sam had given me. I sigh heavily placing it on the coffee table as both of them get gradually closer.

"Sam told you they were hallucinations, right?" Dean asks. I nod.

"I understand that now." I respond as John walks in and sits on the coffee table so we are sitting across from each other. He takes the alcohol rub and gauze out of the shopping bag and lays it next to him as he takes my hand.

"You know, it will only get worst." Dean tells me. I look up as John dabs at my wounds. "You have to trust us or it's not going to work. Saving you, that is." I nod, in understanding.

"Do you trust them, Sherlock?" John asks finally. I look to him and he wasn't looking in my direction. Instead, he focused on wrapping my hands.

"Yes. For now."

*

Castiel had returned earlier and brought Sam somewhere. Where we don't know. Dean stayed behind with John and I. And then I heard it.
Growling.
I jumped and stared into the dining room where the source should have been.

"Sherlock? Are you OK?" John asks me. I don't dare move my eyes, trying to find what was making the growl.

"Y-yeah, fine."

"Are you hearing things?" Dean wonders. I look to him for a brief moment before taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, but I'm just hallucinating, I know." I respond and he stands.

"We can't be sure." He says taking out his phone and dialing a number swiftly.

"What do you mean?" John asks as he walks into the kitchen. Dean returns with threw pairs of glasses we had earlier scorched with holy fire.

"This could be the beginning." He tells him wearily passing John a pair, putting one on himself and handing me a pair. I look at them, debating. "It won't hurt, no negative side effects." I place them on the bridge of my nose. Everything seemed to be the same.

"I don't see anything," I tell him.

"That could be a good sign, and a bad sign."

"How so?" John wonders.

"Well," He begins, removing the phone from his ear. "it could mean that they aren't here yet...or it could also mean the glasses don't work. We have never actually used them before." He glances out the window once more, anxiously before he takes out his phone again.

"Sam not answering?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"Cas, if you can hear me buddy I think it's starting." Dean says, looking up slightly. "It might not be a great time but we are getting close here. Get back when you can."

"He can hear you?" John asks curiously.

"Yeah, I prayed to him." John's mouth forms an 'o' and I stand.

"Is there somewhere we can go?" I ask him. He shoots me a confused look. "Somewhere safe." I clarify. He shakes his head.

"Not that I-"

He was cut short but the door swinging open. Dean jumped for his gun and the overwhelming growl returned. This time, I knew it was real. I heard the thumps of steps enter and Dean had his gun drawn. Behind the steps, Meg walked in.

"Hi boys, am I interrupting?" She asks innocently.

"No, you're right on time." Dean tells her, pointing the gun in her direction.

"I'm here to collect, Dean. Respect it and move on."

"Sorry sugar but that isn't going to happen." He snaps, aim on her head.

"This isn't your fight, I gave him everything when he lost it all. I didn't force him into anything so back off." She demands stepping forward.

"How does she mean?" John asks quietly. I don't look towards him and instead try to completely ignore him. Extremely hard. "Sherlock?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sherlock," She steps forward. "is this John?" She asks, indicating to him. I stare bitterly. "It is isn't it!" She squeals. "You went looking for him after all that time,"

"After all what time?" John asks.

"And he still doesn't know." Dean's eyes were on me. John's gaze was on me. Meg's attention was on me. They all wanted my reaction. I had none.

"It's fair." I finally say. "You gave it back to me. You gave me back my life. It's only fair."

"Sherlock," Dean warns, his voice threatening. I look to him.

"She's right, Dean." I tell him. "This isn't your fight."

"Like hell!" Dean spits in my direction. "I'm not letting you give up! Not this easily!" I took a step forward.
It was the right thing...wasn't it?

"Sherlock," John's soft voice rang threw my head.

Of course it was. John has been my reason to live for a long time...I had him back, but now it's time to go.

"Sherlock!" Dean yells at me. Another few steps and I will be face to face with Meg.

One more step Sherlock. I tried my hardest, lifting my foot a little but my heart pounded on my ribs. My head spun. I was truly afraid.

Soon though, my foot was off the ground and I was ready to take my final step forward when I was swept over with a blinding white light. And then, I wasn't in my flat. I wasn't right where I was supposed to be. I was in the middle of the woods. I twisted around and saw a figure face down on the ground in the distance. I walked towards them, slowly at first but when I finally made out who it was, I picked up my pace.

"John!" I called and dashed towards him. I dropped onto my knees shaking him violently. "John!" I yell when out of nowhere, his eyes flutter open. I exhale relieved, my hand thumps over my heart as I take a few deep breaths, calming myself.
I almost lost him. Again.

"What...what happened?" He asks me. I shake my head.

"I suspect it was Castiel but I can't be sure." I tell him, trying to make out the surrounding area.

"Do you have your cell phone?" He asks me. I shake my head.

"I suspect you don't either."

"No, if we had it we could try contacting Sam or Dean." John suggests.

"Perhaps if there is signal out here. Have you got your gun?" He nods his head.

"Good, very good. Try praying to Castiel as Dean had done earlier, I will call out to them as we look around." I order, starting to walk into the direction where I had found myself earlier.

"Castiel, it's John Watson, I don't know where you are or what's going on but we're lost somewhere in the woods. The temperature insists we are still somewhere in the UK but I can't be sure." John says aloud, trailing behind me. I stare at the ground, trying to see if the damp mud had maybe picked up a footprint.
And suddenly, there were three sets. all seemed convincing of Sam, Dean and Castiel's footprints.

"Wait, John," I hush him pointing it out. "footprints,"

"We should follow them I suppose." John says and we do just that. After about 30 thirty seconds of silence, he finally speaks up again. "What was it you made a deal with that demon for?" He questions me. I don't respond. "Was it a person?"

"Yes." I say under my breath knowing I will soon regret it.

"They must be great," John says. "do I know them?"

"Quite well."

"What happened?"

"He took a bullet for me." I let he slip but keep talking to try and cover it up. "I couldn't live myself so I made the deal. They came back but with a new life. One of which I had no involvement in. They would never remember me."

"I'm stumped. I know this fellow, but you do not." John says quietly.

"Oh I know him quite well. He just does not know I as well as he used to." I reply and look at John. "It was you, John." He looks away, readjusting his stance before he looks at me again.

"Say that again." His voice croaks as he glares at me.

"You died ten years ago to save my life. I couldn't live with myself so I brought you back." I tell him carefully. He marches towards me with a look to kill.

"That was not your decision!" He yells with such rage I believed he would kill me.

"Well I couldn't ask what you wanted now could I?!" I return the anger and our eyes locked intently before a stomach churning growl snapped us out of it, reminding us we had bigger problems.

"Did you hear that?" I ask, ripping from his gaze and spinning around, trying to get my bearings.

"I did," He replies, anger washed from his voice.

"We need to find them, John-"

"Wait," He says, stopping and refusing to move another step.

"What?" I demand.

"If I don't get the chance later," He starts. I roll my eyes, shaking my head.

"Don't do that,"

"I'm serious. You reminded me what it's like to be alive." He says to me. I bite my tongue. "Sherlock, thank you for that."