"Can we have the full story please? You know, if you don't mind." Dean said, looking up at The Doctor.
"Wish I knew the full story." He replied, turning to John expectantly. "Do you know?"
"Me? No." The ex-army doctor shook his head and mimicked Dean's pose absentmindedly. "But you can't really believe demons exist."
Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean raised an eyebrow. The Doctor scooted backwards on his heels.
"You can't be serious." John saw on their faces that they certainly weren't joking. "You're serious?"
"Yeah."
"But—"
"Listen, if your friend called this jack-in-the-box to get Sam and me, it means that he's in a lot of trouble. We need to know where he is." Dean explained, patience starting the slow rejuvenating. "Tell us, and we'll get him back."
John shrugged. "Like I said, Anderson has the files. At the station, down at Scotland Yard." Sam was just getting more exited as this went on. No doubt because he got to fawn over the great and mighty Sherlock Holmes.
"So where is the little prick?"
"I don't know where he lives, but in the morning I'll take you to the station." John replied tentatively. How pleased would the force be to have the strangers looking through their files? Admittedly, they weren't too pleased to have him drop by as often as he did, since he wasn't exactly with the police.
"Okay," Dean piped up, clapping his hands together and forcing a grin. "So Jack-in-the-Box can take us home, and we'll come back in the morning!" The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the hunter.
"What? Why? It'll be morning soon. Think of this as a sleepover!"
"Maybe because even if we were going to hunt these demons, we'd need our gear. And, well, that's not here." The older Winchester gestured to the room around them to prove his point. Sam nodded in agreement.
"He's right you know. I don't suppose you have some salt rounds and holy water with you?" He chimed in, and John pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Hmmm, John?" The Doctor asked expectantly. He shook his head. "That settles it! We need to find some… Did you say salt? Why?"
Before Dean could assault their kidnapper, Sam said, "Well, the salt was really just an example. It's a weakness some of them have, and it won't kill us, you know, if we miss or something. But we do need to get our things." His explanation wasn't the best and their companions gawked at him while the information sunk in.
The Doctor recovered first. "Well, where is your gear, then?"
"Trunk of our car."
"Which is?"
"It's really hard to miss. It's an old Impala, should be near the motel. You know, where you sort of flew away in your box." Dean shot Sam a look. He returned it. "So will you take us back to get it?"
"No need!" The Doctor pushed open the door to his Police Box and stepped inside. "I'll get it!"
"Hey! I ain't giving you my keys!" Dean protested loudly.
"Be quiet!" John hissed. "My landlady is asleep downstairs!"
"Yeah yeah. You're still not getting my car keys from me, clown!" He brushed off the shorter man's statement.
"No need!" The Doctor held up an odd screwdriver and flicked on a light.
"What the hell is that? What are you gonna do with that?" This loon seriously ruffled Dean's feathers.
"Sonic screwdriver!" And with that he closed the door behind him.
Sam held Dean back as he started chasing The Doctor, murder in his eyes. "He's gonna break into my baby!"
"Calm down! We have bigger problems!"
"Bigger than my baby? Sam, how could you!"
"I said be quiet!" John scolded, walking into the kitchen and overturning a jar, a jar full of an unrecognizeable substance. "I don't want to wake Mrs. Hudson, she's a busy woman."
"Sorry." Sam apologized for both of them, and as the box faded out of the room Dean flopped back into the chair by the desk. "So, do you… Was he acting different before he left?" The least they could do was get down to business.
"It's Sherlock. He's always acting different." John chuckled, pulling a bag out of the cabinet. "Nothing notable though."
"No odd feelings around the house? No being watched while nobody was there?" Dean inquired.
"Hmmm, no. Nothing."
"Smell any sulfur around?"
"Well, wait-" John placed a mug on the kitchen table and squinted. "He was acting a little odd, yeah. There were fewer childish remarks this past week. He was uncharacteristically quiet."
"Did he mention why? Drop hints? Leave notes? Move things around?" The boys had to admit they were interested. It wasn't often they left the country, what with Dean's fear of flight. Not to mention this Sherlock Holmes character sounded intriguing.
"Not that I recall, no." John heaved a sigh and walked back into the sitting room, flopping back into his armchair. Sam sat on the couch, it was awkward to be the only one standing in a strange house.
"What about the, ah," Dean smiled eerily and pointed across the room. The spray-paint smiley-face on the wall wasn't something you see every day. Not to mention the bullet holes.
"Oh, that. It's his way of relieving boredom. Nothing especially strange."
Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't ask any further questions. Then the waiting began, and Dean shifted his position every few seconds as time ticked by. John was nearly asleep again when they heard the noise. The blue box faded into their view and Dean automatically jumped up.
The Doctor stepped outside holding a dark green bag, full to the brim with knives and guns. He was, however, holding it at arm's length and making a face like he'd smelled something foul. "I brought your things."
"You better not have hurt my baby!" Dean grabbed the bag out of his hand and Sam rummaged through it to see if they had everything they might need. "How'd he do Sammy?"
"Seems like a good arsenal to me."
"Yeah, sure," Dean zipped the bag and tossed it onto the cluttered desk. "But we still don't know exactly what we're dealing with."
"I thought it was a demon?" John asked.
"Thanks, captain of deduction, but I mean which one? How many are there? You know."
"No need to get snappy. We'll figure it out!" The Doctor patted Dean on the back and then strolled out of the room and headed down the stairs.
"And where are you going?"
"It's morning, boys! Let's go!"