Dean and Castiel sat on the hood of the Impala watching the sun set behind a large mountain range. Dean sipped from the cold beer he held tightly in his left hand as the condensation dripped down his fingers. Castiel draped his wing closest wing to Dean over the man's shoulder.
"Thanks Cas." Dean said voice hollow with sadness. He stared of into space, mind deep in thought. Castiel looked at Dean sadly. He knew there was nothing he could do to put Dean's mind at easy, and that was painful for him.
"You were just trying to help him Dean." Castiel said, wrapping his wing tighter. "How were you supposed to know that Ezekiel was actually Gadreel?"
Dean sighed angrily. "That isn't the point Cas." He said coldly. "I let an angel into my brother's body and now Kevin is dead and Sammy is gone." Cas could hear by the tone in Dean's voice that he was holding back tears. Feeling helpless, Castiel leaned his head against Dean's shoulder, wanting to be close to him.
"We will find Sam." Castiel said, trying to sound sure of himself. "I promise."
Dean scoffed. "How can you promise something like that? For all I know Sam is dead and Gadreel is just running around in his meat suit."
"You can't think like that Dean. You have to be positive. Sam is out there somewhere and we will get him back." Castiel said, snuggling into Dean's side. They sat quiet for a while before Castiel suddenly had a realization. "Dean." He said, sitting up. "I think I know someone who can help us find him."
Dean finished his beer then looked at Castiel semi sadly. "Who?" He asked halfheartedly.
"When Raphael and I were both fighting for control of heaven, there was an angel who was reluctant to join either side but in the end, he joined me. There was just always something about him, something very human yet not human at all. If anyone can find Sam, I bet he could, if he survived the fall." Castiel said, closing his eyes. "If he did survive, I know who can find him."
Dean blinked a few times, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. "Another angel? Great, like I need any more of you feather heads." He muttered under his breath.
"Feather heads? That isn't very dignified."
Dean looked up at the unfamiliar voice. A man stood in front of him. He was dressed in a nice suit, umbrella held in hand. From the sound of his voice he was British and proper at that.
"Mycroft." Castiel said, moving his wing away from Dean and standing up.
"Well, who else would come to the call of 'Mycroft, Mycroft, come in Mycroft, are you there'"? He said smugly. "What is it you need Castiel?" Mycroft asked, leaning against the umbrella as if it were a cane.
"We need Sherlock." Castiel said, keeping his face blank. "You always seemed to have a tab on him in heaven. Do you know where he is now? Did he survive the fall?" He asked.
"He survived." Mycroft said, eyes blank and cold. "And he goes by Sherlock Holmes now, heaven knows why. He is playing detective, shacked up with a human in London." He gave Castiel a disapproving look as his eyes quickly darted to Dean then back. "I do so disapprove of angels and humans being TOGETHER." He said, voice venomous.
Castiel blushed slightly and his wings fluttered angrily. He looked at Dean who remained calm and still, silent like a statue.
"What is it you need with him?" Mycroft asked, breaking the silence he had created.
"Sherlock has a certain ability that no one else has. I read somewhere that it is called deduction. We need him to help us find a missing rouge angel." Castiel said, standing up straight.
Mycroft laughed. "Since you locked the gates of heaven and sent us all plummeting to earth, every angel is rouge. Factions are rising, each one worse than the next."
"But it is Metatron who is the worst of all. He has the angel Gadreel killing prophets and good angels. Angels who just want peace, angels who are staying out of the way until they can go back home." Castiel argued.
"So you are looking for Gadreel? Hmm, it is disturbing that even the angels who had been locked away are now roaming free on earth." Mycroft said thoughtfully. "I will bring this matter to Sherlock and see if he has any interest." He said, tapping his umbrella twice. Large grey wings spread out behind him as he smiled then vanished.
"What an ass hat." Dean muttered as he finished his beer then jumped off the hood. "But if he knows someone who can find Sammy, I will deal with him."
"Let's just hope Sherlock will be interested in helping us. If not…" Castiel sighed, putting his arms and wings around Dean. "We may very well chase Gadreel forever."
"John! …. JOHN!" Sherlock called from the lounge. He was lying strewn across the couch wearing his dressing robe and pajamas. He often found he didn't have the will to get dressed if he wasn't going out. Sherlock had not only gotten used to having John in the house, but he found that he actually enjoyed it quite a lot. John did many things for him, giving Sherlock more time to focus on the important things. Even though it had only been a few months, he couldn't imagine not having John around.
"What is it Sherlock?" John called from the kitchen, his voice sounded irritated. He was heating up some leftover take away. Sherlock noticed that John ate a lot. He wondered if that was a normal human thing, or if John just really liked food.
"Bring me a cup of tea. How I like it." Sherlock said, hands coving his face. He didn't like eating very much but he did enjoy teas and coffee.
"Why don't you do it yourself?" John asked as he grabbed a fork from a drawer.
"You are already in the kitchen, I am not. It is just logical that you bring it to me." Sherlock argued expertly. John didn't say anything more but he did come out of the kitchen a few minutes later with Sherlock's tea and his plate.
"Thank you." Sherlock said, sitting up to drink the tea.
"Like I had another choice." John murmured under his breath as he sat down in his chair and turned on the television. Sherlock rolled his eyes but he otherwise pretended that he didn't hear John's comment. This was a normal day at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock being rude and John just accepting it.
John finished his plate as Sherlock finished his tea so he brought both of their dishes to the sink.
"One day you will learn to clean up after yourself." John called from the kitchen.
"Unlikely." Sherlock chuckled to himself.
"Now I see why you keep the human around. He seems like a well-trained servant." Mycroft said from behind Sherlock, making him jump.
"Mycroft!" Sherlock said angrily, jumping off the couch. "Get out before John sees your win-" He was cut off by John's horror struck expression as he came back into the lounge.
"Sh- Sherlock? What the bloody hell is THAT?" John asked weakly before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he toppled backwards.
