John was having a very peaceful morning. Quiet for once with Sherlock in the kitchen focusing on his experiments. It was a rare opportunity for him to relax and drink his tea with the morning newspaper. That was, until Dean Winchester burst through the door.
"Sherlock! I need to talk to you! Now!" he yelled running past John without a second glance.
Without looking up Sherlock mumbled something about locking the door before addressing the hunter. "If you don't mind we're a bit preoccupied today."
Dean slammed his hand on the table. "Screw you! We need to talk!"
"Then talk." Sherlock said unfazed by the sudden violence.
At that moment John thought Dean was going to punch Sherlock, but he was wrong. Instead Dean took a deep breath before looking to John. "Sorry John but this is private can you…"
"Yeah sure." John gathered his newspaper before leaving the room. He didn't go far though. They had known Dean for over a year now yet John still didn't trust him. He waited just outside the door prepared for yelling or gun shots. Of course it wouldn't be the first time.
When John had left the room Dean turned back to Sherlock. "Where the hell is my brother." Dean demanded.
Sherlock sat back and examined Dean. "What makes you think I know where your brother is?"
"Because it's been a year Sherlock! We know he's in London but you, the great God damn detective, still can't find him!"
Sherlock sat back and watched Dean as if debating what words to use next. "Has it ever occurred to you Dean that your brother may not want to be found?"
Dean glared at Sherlock. "You known. You've known this whole time! I knew it! Where the hell is he!"
Sherlock folded his hands under his chin. "Mycroft."
"What?" Dean snapped.
"My brother needs your brother. He is keeping Sam right under our noses here in London. I figured it out within the first three months you were here but Mycroft is on step ahead of me. He's given your brother a whole new life, identity anything that I could use to find Sam."
"Why? Why does he need Sammy?" Dean asked using every once of self-control to keep from killing Sherlock.
"I don't know Dean. I'm sorry. I still have the homeless network on the lookout for him, but that's the extent I can do until Mycroft is ready to work in our favor. "
Dean sat down at the table face hidden in his palms. "Does your brother know about last year?"
"No. Mycroft doesn't believe I faked my death but he doesn't know where I went."
"What about John?"
Sherlock stammered then shook his head. "No, I've been meaning to but…" his voice faded and they sat there in silence.
Dean watched his hands before nodding. "I haven't told either. Except Cas of course and he sure as hell isn't going to tell anyone." His voice choked up at the end, eyes beginning to water.
Sherlock watched him for a moment before leaning forward. "Dean, I am sorry. About Castiel, Sam, everything."
"Don't worry about it." Dean said standing up. He stomped out of the room without another word to the detective. That was the last they saw of the older Winchester for a very long time.