Dean was sitting at his desk. He had an actual office desk and it was creeping him out. He had literally nothing to put on it except the pen Gwen lent him. It wasn't even like his first day or anything; it had been two weeks since he joined this 'torchwood' bullshit. He'd already killed his first alien and it was awesome, except Jack got mad because apparently instead of killing them you're supposed to capture them. How the hell was Dean supposed to know that? He'd only ever learned 'Kill or be killed' when hunting.
He looked around at the other members of torchwood. Gwen was at the desk beside him, she was playing on her phone. Owen was across the room but Dean could see the reflection of his computer on the glass behind him, watching porn. Figures. Toshiko was in the lab downstairs, she'd only come out twice today to eat lunch and tell Jack something. Ianto was also somewhere out of sight. Thinking about it, Dean had only seen Ianto this morning going into Jack's office.
Out of curiosity Dean glanced at Jacks office. The captain was already watching him through the window and winked suggestively at Dean. Dean did his best to roll his eyes and not squirm in his seat. Jack was always flirting with everybody and it just wasn't normal. And what was the deal with Ianto and Jack? Were they a couple or just fuck buddies? Everyone in this office was weird as hell.
How long had he been here? Oh yeah, two weeks. He sighed and turned back to the empty desk. Two weeks ago Jack had offered him the position. Two weeks ago Jack had said they knew where Sammy was and that his brother was safe. Jack had been somewhat manipulative saying that if Dean agreed to work for Torchwood, eventually him and Sam could see each other again.
Almost two years ago was the last time he saw Sammy. After the bright flash of scorching light, Dean found himself in a spaceship. He still found it hard to believe. Not only monsters existed, but freaking aliens. The universe sure was a dick.
After being rescued from a group of angry saltshakers by the Doctor and angry Donna, Dean had been in complete hysterics. Aliens? Time-Machines? No thank you. He had no intrest and asked to be taken back to his time, galaxy and country. That didn't work out after having his car fuse with the TARDIS. Eventually it was fixed, and the Doctor claimed to have a friend who could help him find Sammy. That's when he was left at the doorstep of 221B.
Well the Doctor had sort of left before the door even opened revealing a familiar face, and that was not in a good way. One from Dean's torcher days in hell.
Cheekbones looked like he was going to faint, and Dean was tempted to run. He hadn't ever seen a soul from hell on the other side, especially in London of all places. A few awkward conversations later, Dean wound up living at Baker Street with Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes, only to realize Sherlock could do nothing in finding Sam. Dean then moved on again, this time doing odd jobs around the UK. No way in hell was he flying fourteen hours back to the US. In whales, whilst hunting what he thought was a werewolf, he met Captain Jack Harkness and informed about dear Torchwood. Two weeks ago. What a busy two years. Of course, it wasn't quite over.
Tomorrow was Sherlocks day, having been dead almost a year now, it was Deans job to make sure the guy didn't go insane when crawling out of his grave. It was a bit complicated here; Sherlock had gone to hell for committing suicide last year. Hell doesn't have bounds of time, Deans one year had been forty. Sherlocks year was only a few months. When Dean had met Sherlock, he hadn't jumped yet, but he still knew about hell and his suicide because he'd met Dean before. A future Dean that happened to be with the Doctor, and not the Doctor Dean knew. The whole thing was convoluted and messy and it made Dean want to flip off science and the universe for not getting it's shit together.
Either way, him and Jack were going to the graveyard tonight to keep watch as Sherlock burst out of his coffin like a fresh daisy. Alone, with Jack. This was going to be an uncomfortable night.
Writing Dr Who Fanfiction is great because I messed up big on continuity and I can fix it by pulling a 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey'. You all probs hate me by now so I guess it doesn't matter when I make a huge ass mistake.