Dean didn't seem to notice Sam's concern. He perked up when he heard Sam's voice, searching for his younger brother on John's figure before waving him on. "Sammy!" he called out in greeting, the syllables slurring together. "You've gotta try the whiskey!"

John arched an eyebrow at Dean, recognizing the signs of inebriation. That at least explained a tiny fraction of what was going on. John had severe looks for Sherlock and Lestrade as he lifted a hand to his shoulder and approached the table warily. Whatever was happening and had happened, John knew where Sam needed to be.

Despite knowing ahead of time that John was in on the whole tiny people affair, Lestrade somehow didn't expect the doctor to arrive with the other half of the Winchester brothers riding on his shoulder just like Dean had done with Sherlock. It was with no small amount of awe that he watched John lower Sam to the table. The younger brother he'd heard quite a bit about amid Dean's drunken rambles.

Lestrade hardly expected to see Sam so soon, let alone while his older brother was draped across a hand larger than he was tall.

Understanding Sam's worries, the detective inspector kept his hand as still as it had been, aware of the suspicious look John was giving him that mimicked Sherlock's from earlier. Here we go again.

Jumping down from John's hand the second it hit the table, Sam sent Lestrade furtive looks as he dashed over to Dean's side. His movements were slower than normal with his leg only just recovering, in need of exercise to build up muscle, but he wasted no time.

Dean gave Sam a broad grin, still placidly sitting on the new human's hand. "Dude, I solved a case and we had whiskey! " This last word was spoken in a tone of reverence.

"Yeah, so I heard," Sam said dryly, his exasperation momentarily overriding his worry. He sidled past Lestrade's fingers, sending up a surreptitious look before reaching Dean's side. One hand on the older Winchester's shoulder was enough to haul him effortlessly to his feet, though the last thing he expected was Dean to instantly tilt to the side, and had to lunge to catch him before he toppled head over heels into Lestrade's fingers.

The second Lestrade saw Dean start to tip over, his hand twitched, shifting to be more upright and ready to catch him before he realized that Sam already had it taken care of. He glanced back at John, who had a sharp look for him and his hand. The man looked ready to punch Lestrade's lights out if he so much as touched the smaller folk. Even Sherlock was watching him like a hawk.

"Sorry," murmured the detective inspector as he carefully lowered his hand to relax back down. He pulled it closer to himself now that Dean no longer needed it.

John gave a crisp nod, pulling out the chair closest to Sam and Dean and taking a seat. He turned his scathing stare toward Sherlock. "Care to explain?"

Sherlock shrugged. "We were working the case and he walked in at the wrong time."

"And I was blind! " Dean interrupted, dramatically drawing himself up and gesturing grandly. "He pointed a flashlight at me when I was working in the vents! How's a guy supposed to see after something like that?!"

Sam again had to catch Dean's balance, this time prepared for it. He kept one arm across Dean's shoulders and the other planted against his chest, perfectly able to pin Dean in place if he had to during this grandiose talk. It was a good distraction for Sam, helping him ignore how close they were to Lestrade's hand. The last thing Sam wanted was proximity to a completely unknown giant, one he'd never even seen before past the occasional glimpse from inside the walls while the DI was talking to John and Sherlock. This was far, far past his comfort zone.

"Dude, you got blinded?! " Sam repeated, starting to guide Dean in John's direction, away from Lestrade. "Just wait until I tell you how my day went. You're going to laugh your ass off."

"Blind, and stuck with Sherlock being grabby," Dean griped. "Was just going to get back to the walls so I could get out of sight, and he sticks me on his shoulder instead."

"Sounds like he was thinking straight, unlike some people I know," Sam murmured, unable to suppress all his amusement to hear that Sherlock had done what he'd expect if they were caught out in the open, and how offended Dean was about it. That sealed things for Sam. "C'mon, jerk, we should get you back home."

This made Dean jolt back. "Notyet!" he slurred, his words running together. "Sam, you gotta try the whiskey! Who knows if we'll get another chance like this!"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at Dean, seemingly due to the way the smaller man complained about all of his actions, even the ones that were ultimately helpful. The other, more prominent reason was fascination for how quickly Dean had come to this state of inebriation. Without thinking about it, his hand had closed around Dean's abandoned tinfoil cup, hiding it from sight and keeping it tucked away in a small pocket of space in his fist.

Because of this, when Lestrade glanced over to Dean's tiny duffel and found the foil cup out of sight, he glanced back at the brothers and worked on the assumption that Sam would be similarly prepared. He reached over to grab his glass, which still had a sip or two in it.

"You can have some of mine if you did want to try it," offered the DI with an attempt at a friendly smile. He tried his best to not come off as so much of a threat to the younger Winchester.

For his part, John watched Lestrade closely, softening a hair to see that he was making an effort with Sam. The doctor had to admit that, though it was strange to see Dean so casually leaning on the man's hand, perhaps there was a good reason he felt comfortable enough to do that.

He kept his focus on Sam and Dean for the moment, keeping one hand relaxed on the table. He noticed Sam trying to carry Dean closer to him, and John was perfectly willing to offer a ride back to their place. Clearly Dean wasn't going to be climbing anytime soon.

Sam considered the offer, adjusting his arm around Dean to keep him from squirming away. They were both stronger than average, but due to his extra height and bulk, Sam didn't have a problem keeping an inebriated Dean in place.

"I guess…" he said reluctantly, knowing there would be no calming Dean down at this point if he refused. So many times Dean had complained in private to Sam about the rules where any alcohol they found was only used to sterilize wounds. It was a rarity in this part of the city, though rumors of other communities that could make their own always tempted Dean with the possibilities.

Keeping Dean upright, Sam rifled through his bag with one hand and then awkwardly assembled a cup. He dipped it into the whiskey Lestrade offered, scrunching up his face as he braced himself.

He only took a sip before drawing quickly back, almost gagging on the strong, sharp flavor in his mouth. "You like this stuff?" he demanded of Dean. "It's nothing like the beer Martin let us try!"

Lestrade's brow shot up and he had to stifle a chuckle at Sam's objection to the drink. Of course, whiskey was not a drink for beginners, and Lestrade had nearly forgotten that drinking alcohol was likely not an easy pastime for people their size unless they had help.

"You don't have to finish that," he assured Sam, keeping his drink tilted in case he wanted to pour his share back in.

John nodded his approval, preferring Lestrade's offering to the option of Dean finishing the drink for Sam. It was evident that the elder Winchester had already had plenty. The doctor held out his hand to offer another lift to the brothers.

"Here. You're not gonna be doing much climbing with Dean in that state," he reasoned, pointing out the obvious so that it was perfectly clear to Lestrade that Sam and Dean were only offered help like this when they needed it.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He leaned over to tip his cup back into Lestrade's drink.

"Hey!"

Sam squeezed Dean slightly to stifle his protest. "You've had enough," he said pointedly as he watched the drop of whiskey pour into Lestrade's glass. "There's always another time."

Keeping the potent smell of the whiskey scented foil away from his satchel, Sam helped Dean onto John's hand. Considering the state Dean was in, he put up very little protest past a forlorn look at the whiskey one last time.

A bit of the tension melted from John's shoulders once Sam and Dean were on his hand. Knowing Dean's equilibrium had to be near nonexistent at this point, John kept his movements slow as he lifted them from the table.

He paused to give Lestrade and Sherlock a tight, still less than pleased smile. "Hope we're not keeping you, Greg," he said, heavily implying that he'd very much like to discuss what happened in thorough detail.

"Not at all," Lestrade replied dryly as John turned toward the main room without waiting for his response, stopping once again to slide the kitchen doors closed. The thick, frosted glass perfectly divided the two rooms and would keep the location of the Winchesters' home in the walls a secret from their guest.

Sam was far more concerned with keeping Dean steady than paying attention to what the humans were talking about over their heads, and Dean was too busy trying to concentrate on keeping his vision from swimming. Which was less successful than Sam's part.

As the kitchen door slid to a stop, Dean's eyes crossed and he doubled right over before Sam could try and catch him. The motion and John turning in place all caught up to him at once, combined with the whiskey in his system, and that was it.

He lost his lunch.

"Dude!" Sam cried out, hopping back to avoid getting the mess on his boots. "Are… are you okay?!" He shot a look up at John, worry flashing over his face for the mess they were making on his hand, then turned his attention back to Dean.

John's fingers twitched in surprise before he looked down to see what was going on in his hand. Though his eyes widened, he couldn't stop a bewildered chuckle from escaping as he took in the bizarre sight.

"Guess we ought to be a little more careful next time round," he mused, bringing his other hand level with his first. Though the mess Dean had left was all but inconsequential to John- he'd certainly had worse on his hands during his time as an Army doctor- it was much more of a problem for Sam and Dean, and John wouldn't leave them to sit in that for the remainder of the trip, however short.

Sam winced, wasting no time dragging Dean back from the mess as his older brother tried to wipe his mouth off, coughing harshly. "S-sorry!" the younger brother apologized, his stutter coming back with nerves from the mess they'd made on John's hand. Sam had acted in time for him to avoid getting any of the vomit on his boots, and kept Dean from falling headfirst when his balance went, but had nothing to help clean it up.

Dean wavered on his feet, and this time Sam helped him kneel for the last few feet. "Is it bad?" he asked John hesitantly. "I don't… we never got sick before. Not since our curse."

"Don't worry about it," John insisted, referring to both Sam's apology and his queries about his brother's condition. He lowered the sick-covered hand to his side, keeping it level and curling his fingers over his palm to keep it contained until he could wash it off. "This hand's seen worse days, honestly it's fine."

As for Dean, John kept an eye on him as he continued, keeping his steps smooth and slow for his sake.

"He's not ill," he assured Sam, melting a little at how nervous and worried Sam was once again. "Not like a cold or the flu or things like that. This can happen when someone drinks too much alcohol. He'll be feeling out of sorts for a while, but he'll be fine."

It only took a few steps for John to reach the shelf that hid Sam and Dean's home. With great care, he flattened and lowered his hand to be level with the shelf, holding still for both their sakes.

Sam hastened to get Dean to steady ground, helping him keep his balance as he crossed over the fingers with him. Turning to face John once they were there, Sam wrung his hands out, his arm wrapped securely around Dean.

"Y-you think so?" he asked nervously. "I mean… he was drinking, right? I remember dad doing that a few times when I was a kid… Dean always kept me out of the way though, so I didn't see him much after."

" 'M fine," Dean protested, trying to stand up and brush Sam off. Unsuccessfully. Where normally the brothers were at least close to the same strength, with the alcohol in his system, Dean was but a kitten in Sam's arms.

John offered Sam an encouraging smile. "I know so. It's definitely the drinking."

The smell of whiskey still stuck to the smaller man, and John could smell it from where he leaned over the shelf. It brought back one too many memories of his sister coming home, barging in completely bladdered. On more than one occasion could John recall Harry making a much more significant mess than the one hidden in his palm.

"Just let him rest," John advised Sam, understanding that the kid's never dealt with something like this before. He resolved to stay close for a while, ensure he had everything Dean would need for his inevitable hell of a hangover in the morning. "Make sure he drinks water as often as he can. And if you've got a spare bottlecap, keep it nearby in case he gets sick again."

Sam nodded along with John's instructions, searing each and every word into his mind. As stupid as Dean had been- Sam still couldn't believe they'd found him lounging on a stranger's hand- he didn't want him to suffer through this anymore than he had to.

"Bottlecap, water, check," Sam said. "And keep him resting. Anything else?"

John shook his head no with a small wave to send Sam and Dean off. "Go on. I'll be close by if you need anything at all."

Pushing himself up to stand and join the others, John let the fingertips of his free hand rest on the edge of the shelf, just as he did to express solidarity and support for Sam before they were used to physical contact with the other.

"It'll be alright," John vowed with confidence. Though he knew Dean would make it through this, Sam was clearly worried, and anything John could do to alleviate that stress was worth it in his opinion.

Sam nodded. "Okay," he said, choosing to trust John's word. If anyone knew health, it was the doctor of the flat. Just because they hadn't gotten sick in years didn't mean they couldn't; and drinking too much was apparently a universal thing.

Hefting Dean's arm over his head, Sam turned from John and lead his older brother down the path into the dark shelf. The books over their heads were tilted to cut down the size of that path and make it blend into the rest of the haphazard flat, and the camouflage had served them well for many months. Now, the people that mattered knew where they lived and didn't bother them unnecessarily.

Once back in the room, Sam sighed. The darkness felt good after the day's events, and it seemed that Dean agreed as he relaxed himself.

"C'mon, just a few more steps," Sam encouraged, leading him to their shared bedroom.

Helping Dean lay down in his bundle of fabric, Sam briefly considered the older Winchester, then added another cover from his own pile on top. The bottlecaps were easy to find, and he put the empty one closest to Dean. Squatting down, he took some water in a cup and coaxed Dean to drink, following John's instructions to the letter.

Doubting he was going to get much sleep that night, Sam retreated to his side of the room and idly organized his notes, sending constant looks towards Dean while writing out some of the day's events, including discovering Elyssa.

Dean fell into a troubled, drunken stupor while Sam worked, and the small home in the walls fell silent.

John stayed behind for a moment to watch Sam and Dean go, make sure they got inside without further incident. Once they were out of sight, John pushed himself to his feet with a bemused glance down at his closed hand. Then he frowned at the closed kitchen doors, and before he knew it his feet were carrying him toward them.

The sliding of the door opening halted a hushed conversation between Sherlock and Lestrade, likely an argument over who was at fault for what. John didn't know and John didn't care, pushing past the table to turn on the sink and rinse the tiny drop of sick off his palm.

"I think we have a lot to talk about," John broke the silence between the three of them. Pumping a bit of soap onto his palm, shooting a pointed look at the others, mostly Sherlock who was closer. "You first. Just tell me what happened from the beginning."

FIN

A/N:

TW: Alcohol and drinking will be involved with the rest of the story, including drunken behavior.

Dean definitely found his limit, and he might not remember much of that night but he sure had fun. Hopefully Sam won't have any more of a mess to clean up...

That's it for this story! Brothers Consulted has finally introduced Greg Lestrade to the story, and I'm sure we'll see him return! The next story will be continuing on with Stan Baker, who is working on finding a way to save captive borrowers along with the rest of his team! Keep your eyes out in the future for The Heart of a Wolf! We will be editing it soon and adding it to the story poll ... one day.

As for what we post next, that will be up in the air until most likely after Christmas. We'll be on a short posting hiatus, as life is always complicated around the holidays. Keep an eye out for updates on the tumblr!

Leave a review to let us know what you think!

Adding in this author's note for all my followers here, and will keep it on all chapters going forward:

If the worst happens and fanfiction shuts down, you can find all my stories on both archive of our own and deviantart, posted under the nightmares06 account. You can also find our story tumblr, which contains a ton of information and answers that are only posted on that site, along with artwork for the stories and future plans we have. That can be found under the brothersapart tumblr account. I can't put links in chapters, but googling "Brothersapart tumblr" should bring it right up!