Chapter 16

Sherlock had agreed to look up information on witches and spell books while the others were gone. He would take refuge in the silence of the flat and hoped for no interruption and barely got his wish. Mrs. Hudson had come back once, hoping to find Castiel and give him a meal but was informed he was still not around.

"Are you alone right now?" Mrs. Hudson asked. There was a slight upset tone in her voice it was not in the form of annoyance or exasperation it was more on the line of pity.

"Just me," Sherlock said trying to sound as chipper as possible while mimicking an American accent. Due to the fact the brothers had moved around all their life they did not have a real discernible one aside from the Standard American TV accent.

"I saw Sherlock go off with your brother, something about the Natural History Museum. Did you not want to go with them?"

"I'm still adjusting," Sherlock answered. "I uh have some research to do and Sammy really wanted to go. He loves all that science and nature stuff." He shrugged. "I can always go later but this really needs to be done."

"Well if you need anything, dear."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sherlock answered.

"I'll be downstairs." She smiled once more at him before leaving.

Sherlock let out a sigh of relief when she was gone, pretending to be Dean was taxing, but now that she was gone he was free to be himself and he could get on with the research. He would have to borrow John's computer and try to figure out Dean's e-mail password. That shouldn't prove to be too difficult.

To his consternation there were no replies at all. He had checked the time on the computer and it was half past eleven. It was six thirty in the morning on the eastern side of the United states and three thirty in the morning on the Pacific side.

"Damn," Sherlock muttered. He would have to check again later but first he had to look. He decided to type in words and phrases that the average person would not have thought of when looking for body switching spells and objects. He had come across some books and charms that claim to be able to do the same as the goblets but when he searched for their availability they were either nowhere to be found or sold out.

He needed something to help him think, to help him relax. He wanted a cigarette, but only wanted one and did not crave it. He also didn't know where John had hid them, or if Dean had found them and decided to move them. The only other thing that would work at a time like this was his violin.

Dean was true to his word and hadn't laid a finger on Sherlock's violin and had even told him that Lestrade and John wanted him to try to play to see if it was ingrained to the actual brain itself or to the memories.

Sherlock had a little trouble playing the previous evening. He had to adjust the bow in his hand and work on remembering the notes for each song. He was also curious and told Dean it was all right if he had tried. Dean started with a few gentle finger plucks and sounded a chord before he used the bow. There were a few mistakes but was able to play a few chords on his own. He even tried the bow and played a few bars of the same music he had plucked.

The only thing that held Sherlock back from playing his violin was the fact that Mrs. Hudson had sharp ears and that idea evaporated from Sherlock's mind in a second. Mrs. Hudson did not know that Dean didn't play.

Sherlock plucked at the strings, making sure it was still finely tuned after letting Dean have a go at it before he drew his bow. The music was soothing and he relaxed him, letting his thoughts take control and run wild with possibilities. There were a few seconds when he had to strain to remember the notes before he pulled out a book full of sheet music. The music ended almost as fast as it had started when he realized all he had to do was to just give these people a call.

"Hello?" A groggy young male voice reached Sherlock's ears first.

"Hello Gary, right?" Sherlock asked.

"Who is this?"

"Dean Winchester," Sherlock answered.

"Ah shit what do you want? I haven't touched that black magic in years."

"This is kind of an emergency but do you have any magic spells or books on switching bodies?" He heard a groan followed by an amused snort.

"You shitting me? Am I being punked right now."

"This is serious."

"Someone switch with Sam again?"

"Actually no," Sherlock said as he dropped the accent and attitude. "The real Dean Winchester and I were the ones who switched and it was purely by accident, however the stake of the matter is that the objects that were used are being held by an enemy who refuses to hand them over unless we give him what he wants first."

"That is so not Dean," Gary said after he let out a low whistle. "Who are you?"

"That is not important. What matters to us is trying to find a way to reverse this."

"I understand but I don't have that book anymore. Sam told me to get rid of it and I burned it."

"Ah," Sherlock said.

"Hey man I'm sorry. If I'd have known I would of kept it. I don't even look up real witches or go to websites that deal with the occult anymore. I'm mostly focused with my studies here at M.I.T."

"No don't apologize."

"I understand why you called and I can look around for you."

"You are in Uni and should focus on your studies." He hung up only half listening to Gary tell whoever he was with that Dean had switched with some British dude.

The following calls were just as fruitless. Everyone had apologized and promised to help look. The only person that Sherlock hadn't called himself was Kevin and only because he had his mind on more important matters.

Exhausted he set the alarm on his phone and went to sleep.

"Hellooo," Mrs. Hudson voice roused him from dreamless sleep.

"Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock asked wearily.

"I'm sorry if you were napping, but Sherlock's brother is here. I told Mycroft he's out but he insists on waiting."

"Oh good lord," Sherlock groaned softly. That was the last thing he needed. He braced himself.

Mycroft waltzed in with one of his familiar umbrellas as if he owned the world and sat down in John's chair and stared at him with an eyebrow cocked. He was reading the physical form of Dean Winchester and making what is most likely an accurate deduction.

"Hey," Sherlock greeted.

"Hello," Mycroft answered in a short and tense voice. "Forgive me if I seem rude but what are you doing here?"

"Didn't Mrs. H explain?" Sherlock asked. "We are friends of John and we came for a visit."

"I find that hard to believe," Mycroft said.

"You find it hard to believe that John has friends?" He was met with a derisive snort.

"My brother is not well. I know John would not allow visitors, especially visitors from another country to visit during Sherlock's current condition."

"We had made arrangements and bought tickets."

"If you had made arrangements you would have also booked a hotel room," Mycroft said as he walked over to him. "Now tell me why you are here." He pointed the end of his umbrella at Sherlock.

"Damn this brain," Sherlock cursed. If he was in his own body he would have a better excuse for Mycroft. "Set the umbrella down, Mycroft. I know this one only contains a tranquilizer dart."

"How do you know?" Mycroft asked. He did not lower the umbrella.

"I might as well get this out. I am your brother. I had accidentally switched bodies with a man named Dean Winchester and I know you wouldn't believe me." He coughed into his wrist. "You had a meeting with a high ranking judge today due to the chocolate cake crumb in the corner of your collar. You only cheat on your diet with chocolate cake when you are meeting with a judge." He stared into Mycroft's eyes.

Mycroft only blinked once. His expression was impassive and lowered the silver tip of his umbrella, the very tip that was laced with the tranquilizer for a second before he brought it up and placed it against Sherlock's throat.

"That was quite a guess."

"I do not make guesses, Mycroft. When I was six I asked our parents to build me a pirate ship in the back yard and you complained about how your friends would perceive it. When I was twelve I corrected every mistake on every paper you wrote for your classes at university. You once went through a phase where you wore polka dot ties." He stared into the eyes of Mycroft only to see pure confusion. "It was I who slipped the little bit of sodium penthol in your tea when you were twenty one to see if you would confess to mother about the missing Lady Baltimore cake she had the cook prepare for her garden party."

"Sherlock," Castiel appeared in the room.

Mycroft's confusion grew as he jumped back and aimed his umbrella at the angel. He pressed back at the hidden switch in the handle and a dart shot out of the end and into Castiel's leg.

"Foolish Mycroft," Sherlock said as Castiel just looked down at where the dart was located.

"I wasn't aware you wouldn't be alone," Castiel said as he pulled the dart out. "I'm sorry Mycroft Holmes but this has no effect on me."

"What is this?" Mycroft asked.

"Mycroft this is Castiel an actual angel," Sherlock said. He was actually enjoying how uncomfortable Mycroft was at the situation.

"This is not possible," Mycroft said as he rubbed his head.

"Everything is possible brother dear." Sherlock stressed on the brother dear in his most insincere voice.

"Only Sherlock would speak to me like that," Mycroft said weakly. He grew stern a second later. "That was you who slipped in the truth serum? Why am I not surprised."

"I'll brew you cup of tea, but this will just have a spoon of sugar and a bit of cream," Sherlock said as he turned to the angel. "You have quite the timing. Are you feeling better?" He still had no idea where the angel had run off too.

"I was only sad for a few minutes," Cas said as he followed Sherlock into the kitchen. "He died as a hero." The angel did look haggard. His coat was wrinkled and beaten, tie was about fall off and hair was even more disheveled.

"Where were you?" Sherlock filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove.

"I was looking for a solution." His face was filled with the expression of defeat.

"You were not able to find anything?"

"I have, but every time I went to retrieve a book or a pendant, or scroll it was taken either by thievery or an actual purpose."

"By who?" Sherlock asked and knew a second later. "Crowley. He knew we would be looking for another solution."

"He sent his soldiers to search all over the planet," Castiel said. "I was able to burn out many demons, but they had already given him what he wanted. I'm sorry."

"You did…you did everything you could." Sherlock said. He was going to have to learn how to hunt. He had to spend time with Dean to study him and perfect the act so he could keep others fooled and Dean would have to do the same to him. There would be more violin lessons.

There would be preparations for his travel back to the states. He wondered what he would take that was his. He thought about the clothes, but Dean would need them. He could just take a few favorite shirts and his pants. He was going to take all of his pants. He wouldn't be able to bring all of his books with him, but he planned on taking some, as well as several photos. His chemistry set would have to stay behind. He would call Dean and ask him to perform the experiments for him.

He would bring his violin. He'd buy Dean his own before he would leave it behind and knowing the hunter he would give it a ridiculous name and carve his initials in it or something. The moron would carve D.W though.

"Should we tell the others?" Castiel asked after a few minutes.

"No John is busy and Dean and Sam are enjoying themselves. We will wait until they return home."

"What about Mycroft?"

"We will wait until everyone returns home."

"There is beer in the fridge."

"I don't drink beer." He shuddered at the thought of the last time his tongue came into contact with the liquid.

"Dean likes beer. When he feels like this he would drink one."

"And what Dean likes I will like," Sherlock said. "Fine."

"Here," Castiel said and handed him the bottle.

"Thank you." He took note that the angel had opened it for him. He took one long sip and it tasted good. He was surprised by the flavor. He had to know all of Dean's favorites and dislikes when it came to food and of course what he was allergic to.

"When did you start drinking beer?" Mycroft asked softly. From the way he was sitting Sherlock could tell he was in deep though.

"Not my body," Sherlock explained as sat down in front of Sam's suitcase and went through his clothes. He unwrapped a strange knife with odd symbols on the blade. He looked around and found an old leather bound book.

The book was exactly what he wanted. It was a diary of some sort. It started out with mention of a funeral for a woman named Mary, their mother. There were different short entries about coming up with nothing until the entry about Missouri. There was another date gap that lasted five months and a long entry about dealing with a ghost, finding where the bones were buried and salting and burning them. He flipped through the pages reading about the different kinds of monsters and how to kill them, only pausing to take a sip from the bottle of beer. He was curious about the coordinates that were left and he wondered who H.W. was, most likely another Winchester.

"Now that is the brother I know," Mycroft said.

"Fascinating," Sherlock said once he had read the entire thing. He carefully closed the book and tied it back up before he took another drink, finishing off the bottle. "This would be useful."

"Jesus Christ, Sam would you eat a Snickers already?" Sherlock could hear his own voice shouting down the stairs. "I'm getting damn tired of you being a wet sandwich."

"All I'm saying is that maybe you should wait until we get back to the apartment," Sam said in an exasperated tone as both he and Dean returned.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you," Dean said as he stuck his finger in Sam's face. "But you have to question everything I do. First you get on my ass this morning and then you get on my case at the museum and then on the subway to meet with John and-"

"You were trying to look down some woman's cleavage," Sam said and held up his hands.

"You know what? Maybe I want to stay like this. Maybe I want to get away from you, at least John doesn't give me the same kind of crap." He paused and finally noticed them and did a double take when he saw Mycroft. Sherlock could almost hear the "Oh crap." In his head. Dean swallowed. "Hello Mycroft."

"What present did I give you for your seventh birthday?" Mycroft asked. His mouth had almost dropped during the conversation between Sam and Dean.

"A Nintendo system?" Dean answered.

"Tickets to see the Pirates of Penzance at the Savoy Theater," Sherlock answered. "You know it is me, Mycroft."

"I hope you are working on returning Sherlock to his body," Mycroft said in a stern matter. "I have enough trouble with him when he is his usual self."

"We are working on it," Dean said.

"Where is John?" Sherlock asked looked past the boys at John who was holding a couple of bags from their favorite Chinese Take Away. His friend looked like a father who had to spend all day with his quarreling sons.

"He called us," Sam explained. "Around the time he got off. We were not too far from where he was working and asked if we were in the mood for Chinese."

"I didn't know you can get take out here," Dean chuckled until he received a glare from everyone. "Okay but I bet I can't find Tex-mex here."

"We do," John told him and set the bag down on the table.

"You did see the Taco Bell that we walked past," Sam reminded him.

"It's not the same," Dean said and took out one of the boxes. "Not like the ones you can get in Texas or in Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada and California."

"That would be closer to authentic then yes," John said. "Work was fine. It leaned towards the mundane and routine."

"Dull," Sherlock replied. "That is why I never ask."

"My brother has swapped bodies with an American idiot," Mycroft sighed.

"Hey," Dean protested.

"How did this happen?"

"Enchanted objects," Sam answered before he grabbed his food. "If we knew you were here we would have gotten you something."

"I appreciate the offer," Mycroft said. He smiled when Castiel walked into the room with a cup of tea. "Thank you, angel."

"Damn it, Cas, what did I say?" Dean asked.

"I didn't know he would be here when I returned," Cas said as he stared at the ground.

"I told him the rest," Sherlock said. "He would have found out sooner or later. He always does."

"Here you go," Dean said and plopped down a box in front of Sherlock. "General Tso my favorite."

"My favorite now," Sherlock sighed. "Did you tell him I prefer the shrimp in lobster sauce?"

"I did," John said and sat down in front of the table. Sam grabbed a box and sat down with him.

"What the heck are you doing with that?" Dean asked as he pointed at the closed book near Sherlock's feet. "That is ours!"

"You went through my bag," Sam gasped. "I can't believe you went through my bag."

"I needed to know," Sherlock said as he looked into Sam's eyes. He couldn't look in his own face. Was he really that frightening when he was angry?

"Know what?" Dean snapped.

"How to hunt. I believe you truly did get what you want. We cannot switch back."