Sherlock and John got back to their place barely twenty minutes after they disappeared. Sam and Dean were still standing outside. All they knew was that John stormed out, angry at Sherlock, and Sherlock followed five minutes later, also refusing to say what had happened. When they came back, however, they seemed about the same as they normally would.

Sam figured there wasn't much point in asking them to explain, so he just said, "If we want to get to Crowley's bones, we should go now."

"Then shouldn't we call Castiel?" John asked.

"I'm already here."

Everyone jumped and turned. Castiel was standing directly behind Dean, as if he'd been there the whole time.

"How many times do I have to tell you that that's creepy?" Dean complained.

"I knew you were going to call, so I came."

"But you could at least warn us that you're here. How long have you been here?"

"About a half hour."

"Damn it, Cas," Dean muttered. "Well, we're going to Scotland."

"I know." He stayed motionless, looking at them.

"So… that meant now."

"I just thought I should warn you that there are demons guarding Crowley's grave."

Dean took his demon-killing knife out of his belt. "You think I don't know that?"

"What are we supposed to fight with then?" John asked.

Sam grabbed out a flask and John sniffed it. "Doesn't smell like anything."

"It's holy water," Sherlock said. "And this is all you have?"

"What do you suggest, Holmes?" Dean snapped. "We only have one sacred demon killing knife, sorry to disappoint."

Sherlock took a deep breath, then said through gritted teeth, "I only meant that if you're the only one with a weapon, you'll be protecting three other people. Maybe only two of us should go."

"You want Sam and I to do your dirty work?"

"No. I want Sam and I to do my dirty work."

"Wait," Sam said, "You just want me to come?"

"Yes."

"Not happening," John muttered. "I'm not staying here."

"It makes sense," Sherlock said. "Dean and I can't get along for five minutes and if John were there, I'd be worrying about whether he was alright. Sam and I can work together and won't be too concerned with how the other is doing."

Dean was grinding his teeth and John was looking just as petulant. It was obvious to Sam that neither were planning on listening.

"He's got a point," Sam said. This made Dean turn to him with an eyebrow up, as if agreeing with Sherlock was some sort of betrayal. "Dean, come on, it's not helpful to have three people with no weapon."

"Sherlock can't fight. You'll be babysitting him the whole time."

Sherlock scoffed. "I can take care of myself, actually. Sam, let's go."

Sam nodded. He could hear John muttering angrily to Sherlock, but Sam ignored it and turned to Dean, holding out his hand for the knife. Dean glared. "If we're not back in a half hour, come get us. Trust me."

Dean looked at him for a moment, then sighed and handed the knife off to Sam. "Twenty minutes."

"Fine."

"Castiel," Sherlock said. Sam glanced at John, who looked angry still, but wasn't arguing.

Castiel nodded and put his hand on Sam's and Sherlock's shoulders.

Castiel made them appear a few feet away, hiding behind tombstones. Sam could see the area where the bones were buried and it was completely surrounded by demons. There were more than a dozen.

A thought came to Sam. Why would Crowley keep his bones here if he thought that they might come after them? With this many demons guarding them, he must have been figuring that his bones weren't safe.

"Sherlock," Sam whispered.

"You think this is a trap too?"

Sam nodded. "Maybe his bones aren't here and he tricked you into thinking he lied."

"Tricked me?" Sherlock inquired, seeming appalled by the statement. "No, they're here. But he was luring us here for a reason. But why? Why?"

"I don't know," Sam replied, though he wasn't entirely sure that Sherlock was even speaking to him. "But we can't just leave. Maybe he wanted to test our nerve and he'll move the bones after today or something. This could be our only chance to save you."

Sherlock sighed and nodded. "Yes, you're right. But, even with your skill at fighting, we're rather outnumbered."

"Yeah, I know."

"I don't understand why you would want to risk yourself to save me."

Sam smiled a little in a sad sort of way. Everyone thought Sherlock had no real feelings, but that wasn't true at all. You could tell his adrenaline was really pumping because his eyes were open too wide and he was bouncing a little where he knelt. He was nervous. Sam wouldn't go as far to say afraid, but definitely he was worried about how this fight was going to end. "Because you're a person like anyone else."

He scowled just a little, like he didn't like the comment.

"That's not such a bad thing, you know," Sam said. Sherlock might have even been more ordinary than Sam was. Sam had a demon bleed in his mouth at birth which caused him to have psychic powers for a time. Sam wasn't even full human. Sherlock was human, just with a bigger brain than most—or all—the rest.

"We're wasting time," Sherlock commented.

Sam nodded and ran out from behind the headstone.

He couldn't see Sherlock, but he knew he had come out. Sam had the demon blade and could bring down foes in a second or two, but with this many to fight, they were surrounding him. He wanted to not worry about Sherlock, but he glanced over. Sherlock was splashing holy water on one. Well, that meant he wasn't dead yet.

Sam was getting a very bad feeling about his whole thing, wishing Dean was there fighting with him, when he realized something.

"You aren't even trying," he said aloud.

"Very good!" someone said. The demons backed off, standing around them in a circle. Then Sam could see where the voice came from. He had known who it was by hearing it, but he had not expected him to have luggage.

"Let them go," Sam growled, looking at Dean and John tied at his feet.

"You Winchesters and your threatening," Crowley said with a smirk. Sam continued to glare, his knife held out menacingly. "My god, Moose, calm down. I'm not even here for you."

Sam was confused enough that he put his blade down by his side. He looked to Dean, who had his mouth gagged, trying to ask him what the hell was going on. Dean shrugged minutely.

"This is about me then?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh yes. You are very interesting to me."

"Yes, because of my artful death, I know."

Crowley sighed dramatically. "Sadly, no. That won't be happening."

"Won't it?"

"No. You see, I've been told a great deal about you, Sherlock Holmes. I was told that you could tell a man was lying just by listening to him, watching his movements. I'm not just a man, of course, but I thought I would test it out. You knew I was lying when I said the bones were moved. You were able to deduce that the King of Hell was lying. I am, to say the least, impressed."

"You are just as much a man as any of us," Sherlock said. "Telling that you're lying is no different than telling if Dean is."

Sam noticed that Sherlock clumped himself into the 'us', which was interesting. He also noticed that Crowley donned almost the exact same scowl that Sherlock had at the mention of being a normal man. It made Sam feel uneasy.

"It isn't, actually. I've been lying since before you were born, mate. I'm rather good at it."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Sam snapped. "Are you getting rid of Sherlock's contract or not?"

Crowley pursed his lips for a moment, then said, "There never was one."

Sam and Sherlock and the tied up Dean and John were all exchanging confused glances.

"When you lived," Crowley said, "I was just pulling in a favor. There was no contract. There was no ten year deadline. I certainly wish there were, since it would be a masterpiece of a contract, but I was told that you needed to live."

Sam looked over at Sherlock and noticed that he was scowling in a way Sam had never seen before. He knew why Crowley saved him and didn't like it.

Crowley smirked. "Recognize the signature?" he asked. Sam was kind of lost, but then he found himself glancing to John and was confused that John seemed to understand as well, and was looking rather furious too.

"Yes," Sherlock barely whispered.

"I met him a long time ago. A genius, really. I was intrigued by his work. He causes almost as much chaos as me, it's brilliant. And so ten years back, he told me he had devised a plan for you. It was perfect and I wanted in."

"So he's alive too?" Sherlock asked, more in a resigned way than as if he were actually asking.

"Who the hell are you talking about?" Sam finally asked.

Crowley snapped his fingers and at the same time, all the other demons vanished and John and Dean were unbound and standing by Sam and Sherlock. John looked about ready to attack Crowley, but Dean put his hand on one shoulder as Sherlock put a hand on the other and he just stood there, fuming.

"Moriarty," Crowley replied. And then he was gone.

Sorry this chapter took forever! Been really busy. Please review and let me know what you think!