The door swung inwards opened by a giant shaggy haired man who looked at him with confusion. "Put your hands up! Now...what..." John had pulled his handheld automatic from his belt, the man had stepped back with his palms up flat and John had taken the opportunity to walk in. But what he saw stopped all thought and his arms went slack lowering his gun.

"John? John! Are you alri...?" Sherlock ran back round and had followed John in.

John got brought back to the situation by a gun being pointed in his direction by a playboy in a wig and a mouth full of food: "Who are you?" The man was almost choking.

"Who are you?" John demanded back, the tall man interjected: "Hey. Now let's just cool it for a second." But neither men lowered their weapons.

The other gun holder began shouting something incomprehensible but the taller man interrupted: "Hey is your buddy alright?"

"Sherlock?" John asked behind him but refusing to tear his eyes from the suspects. "Sherlock?" But all that replied was shallow breathing. John turned his head for a second and saw Sherlock inside the door on all fours panting.

"Shit Sherlock." John left his post and ran down the metal platform to his friend.

"John..." He was struggling to breathe let alone talk. "It's bigger..." gasping shallow breaths. "On the inside..." John was now supporting the detective's weight.

"Sherlock look at me, you've got to breathe ok."

Sherlock's eyes were wild and unfocused.

John forced Sherlock's head up cupped in his hands, he slapped him across the cheeks and his eyes focused on John. "Follow me. Out. In. Out. In." John forced his hand on Sherlock's stomach forcing him to control his breathing, he pushed his hand in: "Out." Then released the pressure. "In." Till eventually Sherlock's breathing had regulated enough for John to prop him up. He had slipped his hand in to Sherlock's jacket and removed Lestrade's badge and the handcuffs he always keeps with him and stuffed them in his pocket.

He moved back in to military stance but when he turned around the shaggy giant had ran behind the shorter one and was slapping him hard on the back, as John inched forward to the commotion he saw a blue faced man being held up by the taller one.

"Oh, what seriously." John ran round the strange centrepiece and pushed the brown haired man out the way. He clenched his fists under the diaphragm and did a few sharp thrusts till the man slumped on the floor spluttering. He took the opportunity to handcuff the man's hands round his back and then pointed the gun at the other one.

"Now." John said after catching his breath. "Who the hell are you?" After the tall one checked his friend was ok he stood to face the doctor. "I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean." He indicated to the cuffed man who was awkwardly trying to heave himself up.

"Well you're under arrest on suspicion of murder and attempted murder." He flashed Lestrade's badge.

"Woah, woah, hey wait. We haven't done any...wait let me see that badge." John didn't react; he just moved forward in order to subdue the enemy. "Stop, woah! That's an English accent right? And that looked like an English badge."

"Yeah, so?"

"Dean, we're in England..." The surprise caused Dean to have another coughing fit, and his reaction was confusing John. "He looked back at John. "We were in South Dakota a few hours ago."

"Don't be ridiculous." But John's judgment was swaying, Sam had a very honest face and his pleading huge brown eyes didn't seem to be lying.

"No, I swear, we don't understand it but it's the truth." John still eyed them suspiciously. "Really, we don't know, we just sort of ended up here.

Dean had managed to get to his feet. "It's true, whatever you think we've done we haven't." His voice still sounded raw and he cursed the handcuffs for rending him limp and unable to rub his throat.

None of this was making any sense to anyone, John needed Sherlock but he was still indisposed.

"And you are?"

"John Watson, and that over there." He nodded to the crumpled coat in the corner: "Is Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to meet you John." Sam extended an open hand; John hesitated but reached out to shake it. Sam then pulled John closer and threw a flask of holy water over his face. John stumbled backwards wiping it off his eyes. He raised his gun back up. "Sorry, we had to make sure."

"Make sure of what? What did you throw at me?"

"It's ok, it's just holy water."

"Holy water?"

"Yeah."

"And why the hell did you just throw holy water at me." A commotion at the door made John turn around Sherlock was hanging off the handle trying to get out. "Don't move." He threatened the Winchesters and then made his way to Sherlock. "Hey, hey calm down Sherlock."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Sherlock was wide eyed again and pacing round the door, relentlessly trying to open it or break it down in every way possible.

"Sherlock now's not the time, we can work this out later first we have to decide what to do about them." John shot a gaze back at the brothers who were now standing together whispering amongst themselves. 'Damn it. Sherlock come on I need your help...'

Sherlock could feel his hands still trembling so he stuffed them in his jacket pockets, straightened his back and hardened his face. He strode towards the two men. He looked at Sam with a raised eyebrow and smirked when he saw Dean. He circled them predatorily. Then stood facing Dean, barely a threat with his hands incapacitated. "Name?"

"Dean and Sa..."

"Last name." Sherlock sighed.

"Winchester." Dean raised his chin to the taller man.

"You can release him John."

"Are you sure.

"Are you kidding look at these two, all brawn and no sense. They aren't behind any of this."

Dean tested his handcuffs again. "That's rich from Mr Panic Attack."

John saw that Sherlock look that gets him in to so much trouble as he turned back round to face Dean. "Sherlock don't."

"Well, Mr Daddy Issues, I suggest you shut up or those handcuffs aren't coming off."

"What did you just say to me?" Dean was fierce and daring Sherlock.

Sherlock was more than happy to play along: "Oh please, its written all over you, always standing just slightly over your younger brother, been looking after him from a young age eh? Where was your Dad? A drunk I take it, so definitely following his footsteps."

The handcuffs were slicing his wrists now due to his clenched fists. "Watch your mouth Shirley."

"Armed and drunk, well, that's America for you. Oh and driving drunk by the looks of it, a lot of driving. Homeless in fact, wow, your parents raised you well."

Dean leapt forward and smashed his head in to Sherlock's, aiming for the top of the nose but missed, both men on the floor groaning in pain. John and Sam picked up their partners.

"How, how did he do that?" Sam addressed John.

"Sherlock Holmes, genius. Pleasure." He said whilst rubbing the red mark on his forehead. "Now why are you armed, you're trained obviously but not by the army so once again your father, but the holy water? Wait, wait oh please don't tell me you're a couple of those UFO, ghost, ghouls and werewolves conspiracy hippies? Taken really seriously over the water isn't it." He snorted mainly at the shorter one; the taller one he could tell was educated but led blindly by his moronic brother.

Sam spoke up, a voice of reason: "Can you just take off those handcuffs and we can explain who we are and what we do and you can tell us how you got here too." John undid the handcuffs after checking clearance with Sherlock. Both sides were eager to fire questions but a whirring metallic noise sounded through the room, they were thrown in every direction trying to hold on to something for balance for a few moments till it calmed.

"AH HELLO!" A voice circled the gold chamber; the men stopped rivalling and throwing accusations at each other when they saw a smiling face too close to the lens appeared on a hinged screen. The chin sat back revealing a floppy haired man in a tweed suit and a green bow tie grinning to his audience. "Ah! Yes, blimey. Sorry! I'm a bit late. Hello all!"