Sherlock sat still for what seemed like an eternity before he forced himself to dig out his phone. Almost robotically, he called Sam Winchester, his face hard as stone.


"Dean!" Sam hurried down the hall, shoving his phone in his pocket, "John's coming. Whatever he says, don't listen to him, he's-" Sam rounded the corner to see the door thrown open, a short note scrawled on a slip of paper with an address circled.

John says Cas is in danger. Meet us here ASAP.

Same swore loudly and grabbed the paper, running out the door and pulling his phone out once again.


John tapped his fingers anxiously on his knee as they pulled into the lot of an abandoned warehouse.

"Here?" he asked skeptically, looking out the windshield.

Dean nodded, "This is the address you gave me. Besides," he added, "huge and abandoned seem pretty appropriate for illicit activities, if you ask me."

John agreed, keeping in mind that he had gotten the address from Mycroft, which meant it had to be right.

The pair climbed out of the Impala. Dean rounded to the trunk and armed himself with a shotgun and pistol, handing John a flashlight.

The ex-army doctor rolled his eyes, "I know how to use a gun." He took a pistol for himself as Dean apologized half-heartedly.

They ventured into the warehouse, doing their best to be sneaky and quiet, until Dean's phone started buzzing. John glared at him as the hunter cursed silently, scrambling to answer his phone, "Yeah, Sammy?"

John heard a noise and edged to the corner of the hall, peeking around it. He saw a shadow shift and the blogger retreated. He heard Dean murmur a bye and snap his phone shut. John turned back to Dean to warn him about the noise, but was cut off as he saw the other man lunge at him.


Sherlock walked slowly around the flat as he gathered his coat and donned his scarf. He wanted very badly to charge after John, but he knew it would be stupid.

So he took his time.

He had instructed Sam to stop the 'demon' that had invaded John. But he made very clear that John was not to die. Should he feel bad? Yes. Did he? To some extent. Sherlock, given the choice between saving the angel and saving his flat mate, chose the most logical one for his benefit. He refused to let John get killed over something he never should have been involved in in the first place.

Finally, Sherlock left to make his way to the motel the Winchesters were staying in. He was halfway there when he got a call from Sam. Sherlock answered immediately, "Did you find him?"

He heard Sam sigh from the other end, "He got to Dean before I could and they left." Sam repeated the address to the detective, who then demanded that his cabbie take him there-immediately.

"I called Dean and told him, though, so it should be alright. The trap wouldn't work if John couldn't lead him all the way into it."

Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Idiot, they're still near it. We've got to go help."

The Winchester boy made a noise of annoyance, "Well, I'm on my way. I'll meet you in front of the place." He slammed his phone shut and continued on his way.


Jim spoke to his client smoothly, reassuring her of the fact that everything would go just fine in their deal. She thanked him kindly and he hung up, turning in his chair to see one of his thugs dragging in some guy who looked vaguely familiar.

He stood, speaking to the young man, "Nice woman. Single mother in a bit of debt."

"Who the fuck are you?!" Dean growled, not exactly glad to be being manhandled by some dickwad.

"You see, she just wants custody of her kids, but the father won't settle for it, not that he's paying child support or anything." Jim smiled, walking to the front of his desk. "Just need's a quiet assassination and she gets all he has. Well, had." The criminal laughed, signaling for his goon to let the hunter go. Jim walked up to him, offering a hand, "Jim Moriarty, master criminal and story teller." He gave the Winchester a cheeky grin.

Dean ignored his hand, simply glaring hard at the nicely dressed man.

Jim stared back at Dean for a moment before laughing, "Right! Right, you're him. You're Dean Winchester, of course. My apologies, I simply wasn't expecting you so soon."

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion, "You what?"

Moriarty raised his eyebrows, "Oh, you didn't know? I'm a friend of Castiel's. Well, maybe not friend, but definitely at least a business associate." He nodded, smiling as he waved to the thug one more. The croonie left the room and returned with Castiel, much to the hunter's suprise. Dean noticed immediately how sickly Cas was looking, his skin paler and his eyes dazed and lifeless.

Dean rounded back to Moriarty, "What the hell did you do to him?"

Jim waved him off, walking around the room and grabbing two chairs, "I've put him in timeout and given him medicine. You see, he's become sick with a little disease called reality." Jim made a face as he set the two chairs across from each other. He grabbed Dean hard by the shoulder and led him to a chair, gesturing for him to sit down. The thug put Cas in the other.

The angel looked up at Dean, squinting slightly as though he wasn't sure it was actually Dean. He murmured an apology, looking back at his feet.

Dean stood and yelled at Moriarty, "You sicko! What. Did. You. Do?!" Dean's hand twitched and he wished he still had his guns, or at least a knife.

Jim rolled his eyes, walking towards his desk to pick up a little pill bottle. Jim's henchman shoved Dean back down into the seat as the master criminal returned, "You see these pills?" He upturned the canister and took one out, holding it up to the light. "Time warped cells with a carnivorous little appetite. I've been crushing 'em up and injecting them into our little Cassy." He patted Castiel roughly on the cheek, which seemed to wake him up a fraction. The angel grimaced, gritting his teeth.

"Now," Jim crouched down between the two men, holding up the pill bottle as he quirked an eyebrow. "Who wants to take their medicine?"


DUN DUN DUUUUUHN