Chapter 11

"What had happened to the girls?" Dean asked once Lestrade had finished the story. He was patient and tried to keep calm while listening to the DI, despite his ever growing headache and anxiety. "To Elizabeth and Yvonne, and what happened to Charley?"

"They went to therapy," Lestrade said as he glanced over to the still sleeping John. "The last time I checked they still had regular visits. They both are married and have jobs. Charley is a businessman. Last I heard he relocated to Vancouver."

"What of Roger?" Dean's fingers were drumming against his thigh. He had started by sitting back in Sherlock's chair but now was upright and rigid. He was feeling irritable along with anxious and he had no idea why.

"Still in an asylum," Lestrade answered with a sigh. "Even though he was innocent the guilt tore into him. It drove him batty."

"Damn," Dean said eyeballed Cas. The angel was still standing next to him. He hadn't spoken at all during the tale, instead he kept staring at John. He had to give his friend credit. Cas said he would watch over John and he hadn't stopped watching. Was he waiting for Dean to give him an order? "I have to apologize on behalf of the hunting profession but that Maxfield was a real douchebag. We're not all that dickish." He wanted to ask another question but the DI was laughing. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry," Lestrade said as he stifled his laugh and held up a hand. "Just hearing those words coming out of his mouth."

"Tell me about it," Dean said. "I have his mouth, his voice, his hair." He ran his fingers through the curls and stopped when they became snagged. It took a few seconds for him to be able to remove them from the mop of dark hair. "I have his calculating superbrain."

"You have his brain?"

"Not the memories or personality, just the squishy gray thinking part. For example I had noticed you had looked over the box of donuts when Cas handed them to you by the slight unevenness of the box lid and the bit of powdered sugar on your thumb. You won't eat them now because you had just recently eaten due to the ticket stub from the restaurant sticking out of your pocket and the small droplet of mustard in the corner of your mouth. Due to the slight wrinkling of your shirt it is the second day in a row that you wore it."

Lestrade just stared at him for a full minute before he said "Christ you weren't kidding."

"I have his gifted deduction skills, his taste for tea. I know I'm an American stereotype but I really don't drink the stuff back home." Dean stood up. He could no longer remain still. "I should ask what else I have of his while I'm stuck here." He walked around and rubbed his head. "I wonder what gifts of mine he is using."

"Dean," Cas spoke up. "You are pacing."

"I know. It's this situation and then there is Crowley and oh yeah the werewolf attack and I can't focus."

"Stop," Lestrade commanded as he stood up. He pulled something out of his pocket and walked to Dean. "Roll up your sleeve."

"Why?" Dean asked but did as he was told. Lestrade opened up the small package and placed what looked like a round peach colored bandage on Dean's arm. "A nicotine patch?"

"You were suffering from withdrawal."

"Oh that's just fan freaking tastic. I'm in the body of a smoker." Dean turned to Cas. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know," the angel said.

"Why didn't you know?"

"You don't like it when I sniff you."

"That's because it's creepy." Dean turned back to the DI. "Sorry if I'm still irritable but I'm still waiting for this to kick in."

"Sherlock should of told you," Lestrade said. "Do you have any condition he needs to know about?"

"I love me some greasy food, burgers and fries, especially chilli fries, and pie." He closed his eyes and sighed and the memory of the last time he ate. It had been a while and every time he tried to get a slice or even a freaking bite, Sam would find some way to keep him from his fruit filled and flakey crusted treat. "Hmmm I really love pie." A sudden thought hit him. "Does Sherlock like pie?"

"I've seen him eat tarts," Lestrade said with a shrug. "They are like small fruit pies. You do mean fruit pies and not meat pies?"

"I wouldn't mind both actually."

"You had a drinking problem before you went to purgatory, Dean," Castiel reminded hm.

"Thank you, Cas," Dean said in a sarcastic manner. "I did drink more than usual a year ago." He met Lestrade's eye. "I lost two people that were very important to me. One of them did come back and he's here."

"That might be more history than I need to know," Lestrade said. "Unless it's necessary."

"Nope. I am however a bit curious about something. After you got your tattoo what happened to you. I mean besides you becoming like a Detective Inspector."

"Do you mean the world of the supernatural," Lestrade waited for Dean to nod. "Never really come across it again, not in my line of work. If the case became too strange then Sherlock would have solved it and then it was just a regular human murderer."

"Except for this last one," Dean said. "The body in the morgue at the hospital with the chest all gutted." He pointed at his own chest before wagging his fingers out.

"Anderson said it was an animal attack."

"Anderson really? Do you think that dumbass is right."

Letrade rolled his eyes. "Are you certain you don't have his likes and dislikes?"

"Naw that guy just pissed me off and he is wrong. It's a werewolf. Have any bodies with missing hearts showed up recently?"

"Yes." Lestrade's eyes widened. "This is caused by a werewolf? There is an actual werewolf running around London?"

"It could be more than one," Castiel said. He was standing in front of John. "He will wake soon."

"Don't stand over sleeping people like that," Dean ordered. "Give him some room when he wakes. He sees you standing over him like that he might freak out and think he died or something."

"Personal space issues?" Cas asked as he stepped back.

"Yeah." He turned back to Lestrade. "Werewolves are real, but they don't look like the ones in movies and they don't look like real wolves either. They look like normal humans with claws sharp teeth and freaky eyes. Their targets tend to be people who pissed them off or scare them in their normal everyday lives and when they kill the go for the heart."

"Do they eat the heart?"

"Hearts are like Meatybones to them. Someone must have stopped that one before he removed the heart."

"How do we kill them?" Lestrade asked and blinked at the sound of John shuffling around on the couch. "Silver bullets?"

"That part of the lore is actually true."

"Lore," John groaned as he sat back up. "Lore what lore?" He grabbed the side of his head. "I'm already regretting that pissing session."

"You did not lose control of your bladder," Castiel said and Dean was going to have to talk to him about staring at other people's crotches.

"Cas it's slang," Dean told him. "I don't know what for but I'm pretty sure it doesn't mean what you think it does."

"Drunk," John said as he placed his hand over his eyes. "I got drunk. I drank way too much. I should know better after seeing what it did to Harry all the time."

"I didn't know angels were regional," Lestrade said. "Let me get you a glass of water, mate."

"We're not," Cas explained. "If you mean my accent it is the same as my vessel's because angels do not have accents. Our voices are not comprehensible by human ears and most who see our true forms have their eyes burned out."

"Vessel?" Lestrade and John asked at the same time.

"Wait." John lowered his hand and pointed at the DI. "He knows about angels and the one in the flat?"

"He knows about Cas and me," Dean said and softened his tone. He watched as both Lestrade and Cas walked into the kitchen. "I did some shopping while you were asleep. I even picked up something for dinner tonight. I know I'm going to sound like an ignorant American but I picked up a pack of fish and a pack of chips."

"That's bit of a lovely gesture. You certainly are more considerate than Sherlock."

"Don't think of keeping me," Dean said as he walked to the bathroom. "I need to get back to my own body and life as soon as possible." He found a bottle of Tylenol.

"He's a pompous git, waking me up in the middle of the night with his violin, running off while I have a kettle on, stealing my laptop, but I wouldn't trade him in for anyone in the world."

"Here's the water," Lestrade said and handed John a glass. "The angel even purified it."

"The water was not clean," Cas said as he glanced towards the direction of the kitchen sink. "It came from a tap."

"I do appreciate that," John said and took a small sip. He received a couple of pills from Dean and took them with another drink. "Why did you tell him?"

"Tell him what?" Lestrade asked.

"Why did Dean, it is Dean right?" He waited for Dean to nod. "Why did he tell you the truth?"

"Well for starters it wasn't me it was Cas who spilled the beans," Dean said. "And two Lestrade knows about demons because he has an ant-possession tattoo." He spun around to glare at Cas. "You are not telling anyone else unless we tell you."

"If they know and can handle it-" Cas had started but Dean cut him off.

"If you think they can handle it then you ask me first, or Sam when he gets here."

"I just thought that it might make things easier."

"Dude, no what you did was assume and when you do that you make an ass of you and me, mostly out of you." Dean closed his eyes and inhaled. He felt a slight bit of calmness. "Not all humans believe in you and not everyone can deal with you or what Sam and I deal with."

"But,"

"No," Dean said and held up a hand. "Ask us first and don't guess. What if you were wrong?"

"I'm never wrong if I can see the truth in their eyes."

"You still don't know how to think and act like a human that is why you need me."

"Look at that," Lestrade chuckled. "Two of them bicker like a couple."

"We're not together," John said and shook his head. "I mean they are not together. Are you?"

"No," Dean answered and wondered why John had answered the question the first time like that. "Do people think you and Sherlock are an item?"

"All the bloody time."

"Are you?"

"That is none of your business and for the record we are not together."

Dean shook his head. "Not getting us anywhere."

"Might have a werewolf on our hands," Lestrade said. "And he can think like Sherlock."

"I try to keep a filter on," Dean said and pointed at his head. "I'm still learning how to turn it off. At least I know when to turn my mouth off."

"At least you try," John scoffed. His eyebrows raised after a second. "Do you play violin?"

"Never have. The only thing I play is air guitar or air drums."

"Can you try?" Lestrade asked and the look he shared with John meant they were implying something.

"Whoa." Dean held up his hands. "I have never learned how and I have no interest. There is no way that I could."

"I think you might." John held up a finger. "I read about this one case. The man couldn't remember anything. He couldn't remember when he learned to play piano and when asked he was able to play it beautifully."

"I'm not going to do it." He placed his hands on his hips.

"You can be just as stubborn as the real Sherlock," John said. "Why won't you give it a go?"

"He asked me not to touch it." Well it wasn't ask so much as demand but Dean did believe in tact and wanted to prove he had a filter. "I asked him not to touch my car. It's sort of a mutual respect we have."

"Oh," John said and nodded. "If that is true does that mean you won't touch my computer?"

"I won't anymore," Dean said and smiled sheepishly. "I only used yours because I can't figure out the password on his and yours is easy. I've been able to figure Sam's for a while and yours is just as easy, maybe even easier."

"Ah," John nodded. "I see, now don't do it anymore."

"Sorry."

" Don't touch or take anything of mine," Lestrade added and pursed his lips. "I know he's been swiping from me, both my wallet and my patches." He shook his head. "I should get going."

"You want to stay for supper?" John asked.

"It's easy," Dean said and pointed to the kitchen. "You just have to put it in the oven, and there is a frozen pie for a dessert."

"No thank you," Lestrade said. "I'm still a bit full from dinner and the angel did give me these."

"He loves donuts," Cas added.

"Heh. I thought my country cornered the market on the cop and donut stereotype."

"I will let you know if we come across anything," Lestrade said as he stepped into the doorway. "Keep me updated on the situation."

"Tell Anderson he's a moron," Dean said and earned smiles from both John and Lestrade.

"Damn it," John shouted as soon as Lestrade had left. "I need to call back Molly."

"You were on the phone with her when I appeared," Cas said.

"Told me about you," John pointed at him.

"Wait," Dean said and flailed his arms about. "She knows too?"

"She knows because of those books," John said as he dialed. "Books that are based on you because of a prophet." He furrowed his brow and looked over at Cas. "It was a prophet right?"

"The previous prophet," Cas answered.

Dean felt ill. The Supernatural books had made it over to this side of the fandom and spawned its own fandom. If there was a way he and Sam could burn each and last one he could. They were going to have to buy them from each book store and online retailer.

"Are you all right?" Cas asked.

"Now it's my turn to drink," Dean said as he made his way to the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of beer and removed the cap. "Damn it Chuck, if you weren't dead I'd kill you myself." He took a long swig from the bottle and spat it back out. It was one of the vilest things he had ever tasted.

"Did it go bad?" Cas asked.

"No the date on the box said it was still good." Dean stared at the bottle. Maybe he should have purchased an American import. "When Sam and I were in Scotland we tried this brand and liked it."

"You have a different mouth."

"Son of a bitch," Dean grumbled and handed the bottle to the angel. He had to get his own body back.

A/N: Next chapter will have Sherlock and Sam in London