Dean yawned, stretching as he made his way down the hall early the next morning. "Sammy!" he called as he raised his hand to pound on his brother's door. He was shocked when the door opened as he was speaking.
"Oh my God," Clara said, her face blazing red as she caught sight of Dean. Her hair was messy, and she wore nothing but Sams long sleeved flannel shirt.
"Hi," Dean said, just as surprised as her, but much more amused. "Uh, Sam home?"
"Clara, you okay?" Sam strolled out of the bathroom, soaking wet from the shower and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He stopped, his face embarrassed. "D-Dean," he said. "What – what are you doing up before eight?!"
"I, um," Dean said, looking like he was trying not to laugh. "Heard a crash in here and came to check on you."
"Oh, yeah, I knocked a lamp over," Clara muttered, turning redder by the second.
"Did ya?" Dean was now fully grinning.
"I'm just – I'm going to go get ready," she continued, looking at Sam.
He nodded. "Yeah, okay. Uh, see you later."
Clara dashed from the room, heading down the hall and quickly disappearing behind her bedroom door.
Dean looked at Sam. "Sammy, you dog."
"Shut up," Sam said, shutting the door in his brother's face.
Sherlock had not slept that night. Instead, he had stared out the window, letting his thoughts race. He thought, once or twice, John had spoken to him, but he couldn't be sure.
Now, he made his way downstairs for breakfast, sitting at the table across from John as they passed around the food.
Hannah and Crowley were missing. Not surprising, Sherlock thought, seeing as neither of them ate. He was slightly surprised, though, to see the angel Castiel sitting beside Dean, though he was the only one without a plate. He seemed to enjoy the more human customs, or at least was more used to them.
"Eggs?" the girl, Clara, offered Sam, who as across from her.
"Yes, please," he said, not looking her in the eye.
Sleeping together. And trying to keep it a secret by the flushing of their faces and occasional shared smiles and knocking of feet under the table.
"I'll have some eggs, too, Clara," Dean smirked.
The brother knew, then. It was obvious by the way Clara flushed a deeper pink and tried not to smile back at him.
The Doctor, who sat to Clara's left, was frowning. He knew something was up as well, but by the confused furrow of his eyebrows, he couldn't put his finger on it. It was obviously quite bothersome for him, not knowing. It made Sherlock want to laugh.
Of course, he didn't.
John and Charlie were deep in conversation about the craziness of their situation. Castiel was now sitting quietly, occasionally adding to the conversation going on between Sam, Dean, Clara, and the Doctor.
For a moment, Sherlock felt a touch of loneliness. But then he saw the perfect, fluffy pancakes on his plate and the moment passed.
"Well, Miss Oswald, you must be quite the cook if you've managed to make Sherlock shut up," John complimented, and Clara beamed.
"Isn't she!" the Doctor exclaimed, looking at Clara proudly. "I'm not usually fond of human-y foods, but if Clara makes it, I can't resist! You should try her soufflé!"
"Oh, it's nothing," Clara said, but she looked very pleased.
"Don't be modest, it's great! My favorite, besides for custard and fish fingers, that is," The Doctor continued, proudly bragging on his best friend. "You haven't truly lived until you've tried Clara's soufflé!"
"I'd love to try it sometime," Sam said, smiling knowingly at Clara, who smiled back brightly.
Dean made a choking noise. "Anyway!" he said, clearing his throat. "You get a hold of those files, Doc?"
"UNIT had theirs faxed over," the Doctor confirmed. "Torchwood, well they're a bit trickier. Takes a while to get a hold of them. Heavens forbid Captain Harkness make things convenient."
"Harkness?" Crowley demanded as he entered the room. Sherlock noticed Sam clench his silverware tighter and his face harden; something had recently happened between the hunter and demon, Sherlock would guess last night or early this morning. Sam was currently attempting to act normal.
Clara nudged him with her foot and looked at him, giving him a bit of an encouraging smile.
So she had been involved, too.
"Captain Jack Harkness?" Crowley demanded again.
"You know him," the Doctor acknowledged, looking a bit surprised.
"Of course I bloody know Jack Harkness!" Crowley exclaimed, his face turning red. "He was the first to ever get out of a deal! He tricked me!"
"Yes, that does sound like Jack," the Doctor said, nodding. "Anyway, I'm trying to get a hold of him," he told Dean. "And as soon as I do, I'm sure he'll join us."
"It's like we're raising an army," Sam frowned.
"We may be," Castiel agreed. "This is very dangerous business, demons and psychopaths – not just a psychopath, but a freak of nature that can't die – and aliens on top of that."
"I'm on your side here!" the Doctor exclaimed.
"You are, yes," Castiel agreed. "But how many others are out there?"
"None, I'm the last," the Doctor said aggressively.
"Of your kind," Castiel argued. "There are thousands of other species out there, and I'm fairly sure that not all of them are on our side."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Sam said, stopping the conflict before it got worse.
"Crowley, what do you have on that anonymous source?" Castiel asked the demon roughly.
"I've got my men trying to pull a signal to track her," Crowley said, crossing his arms. "But she's good. I dare say it might take a while."
"Awesome," Dean grunted. "What do we have on Moriarty and Abaddon?"
"Nothing on Moriarty," John said. He looked at Sherlock. "I contacted Lestrade, but so far its bee quiet."
"Of course it has, if he doesn't want to be found then he won't be," Sherlock said as though it were obvious.
"Awful big comeback he made to go into hiding," Crowley said.
"Yes, he does that," Sherlock murmured. He stood and left the room.
"Where is he going?" Crowley frowned.
"To play his violin," John said, looking exasperated. "Just ignore it. And don't try to talk to him."
Charlie ignored this, following the consulting detective.
"Man, this Moriarty thing really has you chasing your tail, huh?" she said as he set up his music facing a window. She sighed when he didn't answer. "I read your friends blogs. You and this Moriarty guy really have it out for each other, huh?"
"It had to be something, didn't it?" Sherlock said quietly without turning around. "He couldn't just be dead. Much too easy. He had to be a part of this supernatural business."
"I think everyone is these days," Charlie said, crossing her arms. "Most people just don't know."
Sherlock turned now and looked at her. "What do you know about Crowley?"
"King of Hell, off-again on-again villain, probably is gonna screw us over," she said. "Why?"
"And why is he considered a proper ruler for Hell?"
"Honestly? He's good at it," Charlie shrugged.
Sherlock frowned, turning back around and looking out the window. "He knows something."
"About?"
"I'm not sure. Not about this. It's about the angel, Castiel."
"Cas?" she frowned. "What's wrong with Cas?"
"Nothing. He has something that belongs to Castiel, but the angel doesn't know it."
"Well, I mean . . ." Charlie hesitated. "Castiel lost his grace, what allows him to be an angel. So he, uh, borrowed some, but when it ran out he got real sick. So Crowley stole him some more."
"No," Sherlock said. "It's not that."
"Oh." Charlie sighed. "Listen, you okay, Sher?"
"Charlie, you do know how much I despise that?"
"Yeah."
"Clara Oswald is sleeping with Sam Winchester."
"Dammit!" Charlie cursed. "You're a dick, Sherlock, you know that?"
Sherlock looked over his shoulder, and smiled.
