Surprisingly enough, Sherlock had all the things they needed to summon a demon sitting in his house. He certainly had some weird things sitting around his house. They were able to get it done quickly enough.

Crowley appeared quickly and looked up at the ceiling in a bored sort of way at the devil's trap painted there.

"Are you guys ever going to do something new? Honestly, being captured by you two is so boring. You're not very creative."

"That was the demon. At the crossroads," Sherlock said.

Out of all the things Dean could have said, he chuckled a little. "You kissed Crowley?" Dean asked.

Sherlock looked only slightly embarrassed. "You didn't mention that part when going over how deals work."

"No, I didn't," Dean said, still smiling. "I figured you got a girl. My demon was a girl. But you kissed Crowley?"

Sherlock was about to say something when Crowley spoke. "Sherlock Holmes," Crowley said, breaking up their banter. "I thought I'd see you again."

"Did you?"

"Oh yes. Hunters always think they can take back their deals, so I knew a Consulting Hunter was even more likely to try."

"Do you make all deals now?" Dean asked, still managing to sound disdainful even in his honest curiosity.

"No," Crowley said. "I've got people to do that for me. I only get down and dirty for the deals I'm particularly interested in."

"You were interested in my deal?" Sherlock asked.

Crowley grinned in a way that was somehow menacing. "Of course, darling. It's painfully artistic, the whole deal. There's a man who's a complete genius. He gets his reputation ruined and everyone thinks he's a fraud, then jumps off a building and lives, proving the only fraudulent thing he ever did was convince everyone he's a fraud. Then, he spends so much time getting everyone to trust him and as soon as everything looks like it's going well..." He snapped and looked Sherlock in the eye. "Your time's up." He smiled again, this time in a definitely malicious way. "Honestly, even Lucifer himself could see the beauty in it, and he's the least cultured person I ever knew. He spends all his time complaining, 'Ooh, daddy doesn't love me!' Blah blah blahhh. Honestly, I could see why God likes you lot better than all the angels. They're boring. Well, other than your mate Castiel. He's a liar. I can respect that."

"Okay, we're done with story time," Dean snapped. "You know the drill. We want his contract rescinded."

"Wow, big word, Dean," Crowley said. "Good job."

Dean rolled his eyes and clenched his fists.

"I so don't want to deal with your crap right now."

"You called me, if you recall. I didn't just show up to see my beloved Moose over here." Sam rolled his eyes and Dean just glared. "Alright, alright, you're grumpy. And I want to go back to what I was doing, personally, so I'll get right down to the point. No, I won't rescind the contract. I don't want to. And you can't make any threats about burning bones because I moved them. So I'll just be going now, if you'll erase this demon trap."

"Not happening," Dean barked.

"Oh, now are you going to torture me? You're quite good at that, I hear," Crowley jeered.

"I'm considering it," Dean said.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "If you don't let me go, I'll be forced to get myself out, and I don't think Sherlock wants his pretty little flat destroyed. Do you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't respond, just looked at Crowley with a blank stare. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd think there were never any emotions going through the guy's head. He'd probably be great at poker.

A moment later, Sherlock turned and he went to the kitchen, then came out a few seconds later with a broom in his hand. Dean was about to ask what Sherlock had it for when Sherlock reached up with the bristled end and swiped the ceiling. It was enough to break the line.

"No!" Dean huffed.

"Thanks, mate. See you in hell."

And Crowley vanished.

Dean turned on Sherlock in anger. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I—"

"Honestly, what smart-ass reason could you have for doing that?"

"Actually—"

"Don't you want to live?"

"Yes!" Sherlock snapped. Dean shut up. "That's why I let him leave, you imbecile!"

"What?"

"We need to find his bones," Sherlock said, as if this were obvious.

"We don't know where to start," Sam said in exasperation. "If you didn't let Crowley leave, then we might have figured it out."

"You already know where they are," Sherlock replied. Before Sam or Dean could get out their arguments, Sherlock said, "He was lying."

"What?" they asked in unison.

"When he said he moved his bones, he was bluffing. They're still there, wherever you saw them last."

Sam and Dean looked at each other and they knew the other was thinking the same thing: Should we trust Sherlock's instincts?

It barely took a few seconds to know the answer because the answer was, in Sherlock's own words, obvious.

"Then we're going to Scotland," Sam said.

"Scotland?"

They all turned to see John in the doorway with bags in his hands. "John, I told you to leave," Sherlock said, quite rudely.

John stared down Sherlock with his meanest glare. Dean thought it was fairly impressive.

"Tell me what's going on."

"No."

"Sherlock—what, do you think I can't handle it? I'm not a helpless little boy. I don't need your protection and I'm tired of you acting like I do. I've been worried sick about you for weeks, so at least give me the courtesy of telling me what I'm worrying over, you arse!"

Dean actually felt a little bad for Sherlock. He was only going to all of this trouble in the first place for John, but now John thought that Sherlock thought he couldn't handle the danger, and that certainly wasn't the case.

"John…" Sherlock muttered.

"I don't want to hear any bloody excuses, Sherlock."

Sherlock sat down and stared at his hands in his lap. Then he put his face in them, in anguish or something else very un-Sherlock-like. This made John fall silent, looking at him questioningly. He glanced over at Dean, who found himself looking at John sympathetically.

Dean kind of understood where Sherlock was coming from—which was weird, because usually Sherlock's actions weren't human enough to be understood by other people. This, however, was extremely… well, normal. He knew John would be furious that Sherlock was going to get himself killed. John had already been through losing Sherlock and, from what Dean could tell, it hadn't been good. Sherlock wanted to fix it before John even knew so that he didn't have to go through the pain.

"Hey, Sammy, maybe we should go outside," Dean said. Sam nodded and they both walked out, leaving John and Sherlock alone.

Hello all! Just wanted to remind you all that I really like reviews.

Like really. A LOT. Even if it's just a word. A nonsense word would do. "Marshmellow". "Lilypad". Anything. But, preferably, something constructive so I can know what people are liking so I can do more of it in later chapters. Thanks for reading so far!