A/N: Whoo! This chapter has absolutely demolished my brain. I can literally feel it sparking, & I have my suspicions that it is at least partly resposible for my migraine yesterday. I am now of the opinion that writer's block is one of the worst afflictions imaginable, although I believe Legion may have taken it a tad bit harder than me...

Legion: WE ARE LEGION. OUR HEAD IS IN PAIN. MUCH, MUCH PAIN.

Mine, too, darling. Because of the difficulty of this particular chapter, it's not the longest that I have written. However, it's not the shortest, either! I enjoy looking at the bright side of things. Let's do that, shall we?

~ Angel

When he regained consciousness, Sherlock did not immediately open his eyes.

The last thing that the detective could remember from before the all-encompassing black was the man called Cas grabbing him and touching his forehead. Swiftly and maintaining the illusion of unconsciousness, he thought over multiple reasons as to why he had blacked out, but nothing fit well enough with the situation to be the true cause. There had been no prick of a needle, nor any remaining vestiges of dizziness or nausea. No drugs. There was no tingling of his skin or aftershocks running through his system. Electrocution was not viable, either. The lack of pain in his head also lead to the conclusion that a physical blow was not responsible.

Deciding to gather more evidence on the matter, the tall, curly-haired man turned his attention to his surroundings. He was sat upright in the desk chair, ropes restraining him around the torso, wrists, and ankles. 'They want me alive, alive and restrained. They need me for something that they don't anticipate will be pleasant on my part, hence the restraints.' There was a solid warmth beside him, unmoving and at the same level as the bound genius.

John.

From his friend's breathing pattern, position, and lack of movement, Sherlock deduced that John was tied to a chair - 'probably brought one in from the kitchen' - in a similar fashion as the detective, himself, and that he was unconscious. 'Unconscious but alive. The men have guns and certainly know how to use them, so either they are uncomfortable with murder or they want us both alive.'

Having determined that his friend was, for the time being, relatively alright, he turned his attention to the conversation he could hear occurring before him.

"I don't understand why we can't just exorcise the bastard!" The voice belonged to the blonde man, Dean.

'He's clearly the rash one, the brawny type. However, I could see some intelligence there earlier, as well,' Sherlock thought to himself. 'He used the word 'exorcise'. Religious fanatics, perhaps. Behavior too rational, too planned out to be truly insane. No signs of schizophrenia.' His thoughts flew by at a rapid pace as the others continued speaking.

"We need to know why he's here in London. This could have something to do with the Seals, or he could have important information. We have to make sure, Dean." Sam's voice.

'Proper grammar. Educated and reasonable in the face of the other's impatience. Clearly, they are quite comfortable with each other.' The detective had not missed the slight emphasis on the word 'Seals'. In accordance with what he had heard so far, he concluded that Sam was referring to the biblical Sixty-six Seals of the Apocalypse.

The third man, Cas - 'obviously short for something' - chose that moment to speak up. "Something is wrong, Dean. The presence is here, but it is not concentrated enough in this spot. It's as if the demon is gone."

'Demon?' The word pressed at Sherlock's memory. There was something very important that he was overlooking, something that he had missed. He felt a vague sense of frustration at the feeling before Dean spoke again.

"So, what do we do? Just wait for the two Sleeping Beauties to wake up?"

Making a quick decision, Sherlock opened his intense, gray eyes and fixed his cool gaze on the three arguing men. "No need for that, gentlemen. Next time, perhaps you should make sure that your hostages are truly unconscious before you speak in front of them." Truthfully, Sherlock almost enjoyed the way the two tallest of his and John's attackers jumped and spun towards him at his voice.

He would never admit it, though.

A/N: What'd you think? I'm still not entirely pleased with the thing, but Legion & I would love to hear your opinions!

Legion: WE ARE LEGION. WE WANT REVIEWS. REVIEWS MAKE OUR HEAD BETTER.

Don't make little Legion suffer! Comments, criticisms, rants, rambles, & 'eep's would all be lovely. I am aware that there was quite a bit of dialogue & thoughts in this chapter, but I was trying to give some insight into Sherlock's little deducing session. =)

I hope that you enjoyed it & look forward to hearing your reactions, my lovelies! They make the headaches worth it. =) Say, "I'll see you next time," Legion.

Legion: WE WILL SEE YOU NEXT TIME. LEGION.

That's not quite what I mea-...Oh, never mind. Until Chapter 9, dear readers. Ciao!

~ Angel