A/N: This is the fourth part of the Brothers Consulted series, and the start of the second season. If you want to read the rest of my stories, they are found on my page.

Season 1:

Part 1: The Study of the Four
Part 2: A Burglary at Baker Street
Part 3: Aftermath: A Series of Consulted Shorts

Season 2:

Part 4: A Day of Duality

Related Short stories: Brothers Consulted Beginnings and Other Assorted Stories

"So…you ready?"

John rubbed his hands together in anticipation for the day. No strict plans, no agenda and no trouble in sight, just a simple outing. With Sam, whose leg had been healing for weeks and, with careful deliberation and care from Dean and the resident doctor, was finally working toward walking around on his own again.

Once Sam's bandages were allowed to come off, John gave him a few exercises to ensure that the muscles hadn't atrophied and would be prepared to carry him through anything he wanted to do, any distance he wanted to walk and any height he needed to climb.

It would still be a while until he was back at a hundred percent, but for now John was content that he could handle a walk. With Sherlock immobile on the couch contemplating a case, John and Sam could afford to pop out of the flat for a few hours.

Before answering, Sam took a moment to walk in a circle on the counter, right outside the entrance that led back to the home in the walls he shared with his older brother, Dean. It had taken well over a month, but John had finally given Sam clearance to try walking, and after that they'd begun to plan a brief outing to get some fresh air.

Plus, it felt so good to be able to walk instead of hobble on his own.

"You bet I'm ready," Sam confirmed, coming to a halt. He held the strap of his duffel tight, excited to at last be able to take advantage of the newfound freedoms that came with their friendship with Sherlock and John. Mostly John, for Sam. He still did his best to keep distance from the detective, though he no longer grew nervous when Sherlock came around.

"I can see that," John smiled, stepping forward and offering Sam a hand. He was glad to see the kid up and about and walking with very little difficulty or pain. Finally, hopes were up and John was certain that Sam would be okay.

Where there was Sam, Dean wasn't far behind. John gave the older Winchester a knowing nod. "Alright to hold the fort while we're gone?" he asked gamely, trying to assuage any worries Dean might have for his little brother.

Dean nodded sharply, standing to the side. There was a warm bloom of pride in his chest, watching Sam actually start to get around on his own, testing out his limits after so long injured. "Will do."

Once Sam was ready and waiting on John's hand, not quite prepared to climb like the old days, he gave Dean a worried frown. "You can always come with us if you want," he offered hesitantly.

Dean jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, towards the main room and Sherlock. "Someone's gotta make sure things don't get out of hand around here," he said wryly, remembering the time Sherlock had started shooting up the walls (literally, with a gun) while John was out. "Go get some fresh air. You need it, kid. I've got some projects I can work on while you're out of the way."

Sam grinned. "Just don't go tearing the place down around us."

"No promises."

Turning to John and hitching his satchel up again, Sam gave him the thumbs up.

John reached up with his free hand to adjust his collar a bit, making sure there was enough room for Sam to hide in the gap before steadily lifting the little guy to be even with his shoulder. He took a steadying breath, pushing down his own mild worries. After everything that happened, he couldn't help but be protective of Sam. No one deserved the kind of treatment the borrowers in that place were given, Sam least of all.

But all Sam's patience had paid off at last. He could get around without a crutch, and dared to join one of his human flatmates on a stroll outside without fear. John would be right there at all times to keep Sam safe and hidden.

They'd be fine.

"We won't be gone long," John assured Dean, letting his hand relax down to his side when he was sure Sam was settled. "Few hours at most."

Dean took a step back, closer to the wall. "Take your time," he drawled. "I've got work I've been waiting to do."

Once he was done talking, he twisted around and strode quickly towards the wall, eager to get started.

Sam watched his older brother's retreating figure, not overly surprised at how quickly Dean had chivvied them along, but still amused to see it. "He's been waiting weeks to have the place to himself," he quipped. "With my luck I'm going to get back to all my stuff rearranged, and I'll have to reorganize everything."

John chuckled lightly, once again taken aback by the sensation of having an entire person riding on his shoulder, speaking in his ear. He still wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to it, but he was certain he'd have the opportunity soon enough.

"Best not take too long then," he muttered under his breath, his own smirk evident in his tone. With measured steps, he turned and headed out of the exit in the kitchen that led straight onto the landing. His descent down the stairs died out in intensity, leaving Sherlock alone in the main room, and Dean alone in the walls.

Dean reached the little home in the walls near John's armchair and let out a sigh, taking in the silence.

For the first time since moving into 221B Baker Street, he was all alone in their home.

Though Dean had, on more than one occasion, left the building to work on cases with Sherlock, his younger brother was always around when he was home. In the beginning, because Sam didn't trust Sherlock the way Dean did, then later on because he was unable to leave without assistance. Stuck confined to the wall, the shelf out front, or the counter in the kitchen, the only places he could hobble to with his crutch without the need of climbing.

Now Dean was the one at home on his own, and Sam was out with John, his first chance to get out of the flat since his injury. Dean didn't mind giving Sam some space. He knew the kid had been looking forward to his opportunity, and truth to tell, Dean had more than a few plans with the house empty.

Entering the bedroom he shared with his younger brother, the smaller of the two rooms they'd built in the walls, Dean made a beeline for his side of the room. While Sam's side was covered by a variety of papers stuck to the walls with oversized pins, strips of tape, and thumbtacks, along with the massive nest of fabric he'd made into a bed that could fit the four inch man, Dean's side was more modest. His nest of fabric was conservatively small, placed against the corner of the room where Dean could keep the wall to his back at night. That gave him the ability to see everything moving in the room simply by opening his eyes.

Scattered around his spot were the projects he was working on.

During their time at 221B, Dean had designed various ways of getting around that made life easier for the brothers, from both before and after John and Sherlock discovered their existence. The entrances around the flat, for one. Only two had been there previously. The rest were carefully created to blend in and offer sanctuary for the small folk in the walls. After the shoelace war with Sherlock, Dean also had taken the twine he'd absconded with, twisting it into ropes to climb up and down the insides of the walls. Now, no one would need their own climbing equipment to get around inside the walls here. Good for emergencies.

At the top of Dean's list currently was a way to better access and carry the water inside the walls (maybe even a way to tap into the hot water of the flat along with the cold), and for that he'd begun gathering supplies. Currently they had a leather sling that worked as a water pouch. They had to climb all the way down to the underside of the sink, use the tap Dean had constructed before officially moving in to get the water, and then climb up to their home again, arduously weighed down by sometimes up to half their body weight in water. It was perfectly possible, considering how they could easily hoist each other up without breaking a sweat, but the climb to their home with that much extra baggage could push the limits of even Sam some days, and for the last month and a half Dean had done it on his own without complaint.

Today, he wanted to change all that.

Sitting down, Dean snitched one of Sam's spare papers and started to scribble out his designs for a pulley system they could use to ease their lives a little.

The bright sun of the morning caught Sam off-guard, making him duck closer down against John's collar for what little shade he could find. It was the work of several long blinks before he could see his surroundings again, briefly relying on his knack to know if he was- or would be- in any danger.

Inwardly, he was bubbling over with optimism for this trip. He was out of the flat with John, and like the last time they'd ventured out, nothing would go wrong.

Things went wrong when Sam was alone. Like getting kidnapped.

"What's the plan for the trip?" Sam asked curiously as he avoided darker thoughts. With his limited knowledge of the streets of London, John could really take him anywhere and Sam would be none the wiser, but he trusted what the human decided.

John almost shrugged in response, catching himself before he could jostle Sam that way. As confident as he was in Sam's recovery, it didn't make seemingly casual actions from humankind any less dangerous. Potentially.

In truth, Sam would probably be fine if John forgot himself like that, but the doctor didn't want to risk the chance. Not after everything Sam had been through.

"Didn't really have anything set in stone," he admitted, "just thought it'd be nice to walk around for a bit, see what catches the eye. If that's okay with you, of course. There's a small park a few blocks from here, as well, if you wanted to check it out…" John trailed off, remembering that no one else could see who he was rambling to. Couldn't attract unnecessary attention by talking to himself if they wanted this to work out in the long run.

"That sounds good to me," Sam said agreeably. In all honesty, he didn't mind whatever they ended up doing. He wasn't prepared to try telling John what to do. Sam hadn't figured out how Dean did it so often with Sherlock. Bossing them around when they were so much larger seemed wrong, somehow.

Besides, it wasn't often he got the chance to just go outside for a walk. The last one had been before his kidnapping, and before that they'd stayed in the walls and passages on Baker Street for years, rarely venturing into the pathways used to get around the city by other borrowers.

"I'm just glad to get out of the flat," Sam blurted.

"Me too, honestly," John smiled. While Sam was the one physically stuck in the flat for all that time and John could still come and go, it wasn't the same for the doctor knowing that Sam didn't even have the option. Now he was free to roam, and John couldn't be more proud.

It was a perfect day to start, too. For once the clouds overhead had parted enough to let some sun shine through, and it was just starting to warm up a little. Enough for the light breeze to be comfortable rather than chilling.

"How's the leg?" John couldn't help but ask after a moment. Though he'd been there through every step of Sam's healing process and knew in his head that he was alright, some small part of him worried that he'd miscalculated or they'd missed something. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to needlessly push himself, or to accidentally exacerbate the littlest thing.

"It's good!" Sam assured John, glancing down at it from where it was stretched out. He wasn't completely better yet, and was under orders (from John and Dean, though Sam was more inclined to listen to John's recommendations as an actual doctor) to take it easy for another week.

Sam had his leg carefully resting along the collar of John's shirt, making it easy to duck the rest of him down if anyone else came close to spotting his hiding spot while still keeping his leg safe. "It's a little sore," Sam decided John should know everything, "but no more than it was anyway."

John gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Just let me know if it gets any worse," he murmured. He'd need to have a look at it if it did.

With that out of the way, John breathed the unusually fresh air in deeply, starting in the direction of the park he'd mentioned.

The detective took a deep breath, prayerfully thoughtful as he turned his most recent case over and over in his mind. Since the incident with Sam being captured and his subsequent recovery period, Sherlock had taken relatively small cases. Enough to slake his boredom, and just barely enough to catch his interest. They were usually too simple to try and involve Dean.

As he took a break from thinking deeply about the minutiae of the case, Sherlock became aware that the flat had gone quiet. John had left with Sam for that outing they'd had planned for weeks. He also came to the realization that he rather missed tackling a case with Dean. Even if they could each be a pain in the other's arse at times.

Most of the time.

"Could you pass me a pen?" Sherlock called without opening his eyes. This was not uncommon for him to do, John often claimed that the detective didn't notice what was going on around him when he was deep in thought. And that was true, and it often left Sherlock speaking to an empty room. However, since meeting the Winchesters, he was always aware of extra hidden presences around, and he considered them on some level at all times. Calling at that volume, Dean should hear him fairly well, unless he was all the way down in Sherlock's room.

And if he was in Sherlock's room, Dean was in for strong words about privacy.

Sherlock's fears were unfounded. Dean could hear him just fine.

Cocking his head, Dean was distracted from the paper he was working on, where all he'd managed to scribble in the not five minutes since he'd sat down to work, was two intersecting lines. Hardly the blueprint he had planned.

"Is he serious?" Dean asked the empty room around him.

He can't be serious.

And yet.

More than once, while living in secrecy, Dean or Sam would hear the detective talking. At first they'd assumed- like anyone would- that someone else was around that maybe they'd overlooked.

There they were wrong. No matter how they searched, there was no one else around. They'd even overhead John scolding Sherlock for making agreements with him without him around.

Grumbling to himself, Dean pushed himself up, nudging his woefully empty paper under his nest, where Sam would never find it. Better find out what the hell Sherlock was up to now. Before Dean found himself signed up for something he hadn't agreed to again.

A/N:

Oh gosh, I can't believe how this year has gone.

Things have been very scattered around here, but I'm hoping to get back to a more regular posting schedule! I have gotten much better since my surgery, aside from a brief scare with a kidney stone, and I've missed everyone so much!

So let's get this story rolling, and see what our consulted boys have been up to!

Next: August 31st, 2022 at 9PM

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