After a long flight the Detective and his blogger checked into an expensive hotel in Cincinnati. Sherlock got them the Penthouse, under Mycroft's name. "Sherlock, why do we need the Penthouse?" John asked in confusion.
"In all honesty," Sherlock stopped walking and turned to John. "We don't."
"Why did you book it then?" Sherlock resumed walking and didn't answer John until they were at the lift.
"To piss Mycroft off," the Detective said simply.
When the pair arrived at the Penthouse, Sherlock took his coat and scarf off and left them by the door. John put his laptop down and took his own coat off. Sherlock quickly, went around the entire suite and then decided they weren't going to stay for long.
When the Detective returned to where John was, sat at a table waiting for his laptop to boot up, he said, "John, we can't wait, the game is on!" And with that Sherlock grabbed his coat, but opted against the scarf, and left the suite. John sighed, but followed the eager Detective.
"Why does he do this, everytime?"
When John caught up with Sherlock he was outside the hotel just looking around. "Do you have any idea where you're going?" John asked.
"None at all," Sherlock replied before putting his hands in his pockets and striding off. Eventually they found the house of the young man they had come here to help. His name was Mitchell Collins, he was 23 and had been on a date with his new girlfriend when she had 'vanished' along with the statue behind her.
Sherlock knocked on the door. When it opened a young woman was behind it. "Hello?" She said, seeming utterly confused as to why there were two men stood on the door step.
"Hello, yes, I'm Sherlock Holmes, this is John Watson, I'm sure your brother has told you we were coming," Sherlock said. The woman seemed to recognise the names.
"Yeah, Mitch did say something about you," she said. "But I thought you were already here."
"Did you?" Sherlock said, intrigue making his eyes shine. "And where are these men? One of them is undoubtedly shorter than the other, but by only a few inches, however both are quite tall. There relationship is close, to close to be friends, brothers yes. But not in the typical sense, the older raised the younger due to absent parents. One parent died when they were young, perhaps the father, the other absent for months on end seeking revenge. Oh and the older is almost certainly gay." Sherlock paused. "No sorry make that confused."
"Wow," a man's voice said from the end of the hall.
"Sammy! What does he mean gay? I ain't gay!"
"He said you were confused Dean, not gay."
" And Mom died, not Dad!"
"Oh and there they are now, I always get something wrong," Sherlock said. "If you'll excuse us."
"Sorry," John said to the woman who was still stood in the doorway. "He's always like that." And then John followed Sherlock into the house. "Who are you two sons of bitches?" The man, who Sherlock had identified as gay, demanded.
"We," Sherlock said calmly. "Are the two you are impersonating. John you should really put pictures on that blog of yours."
The taller of the brothers looked shocked. "Oh God!"
"What?" The shorter asked him.
"It's hat man! We're impersonating John and Sherlock!"
"Who the hell are John and Sherlock?"
"Really Dean? How can you not know who John and Sherlock are, these two are internet phenomenon!"
"Yeah, Sammy we can't all be huge ass nerds."
"Yes, yes, can you have this argument later?" Sherlock interrupted the arguing brothers. At that exact moment a whining, groaning, grinding sound permeated the air and a large, Blue Police Box materialized in the room. "Oh what is he doing here!" Sherlock groaned.
"Freaking hell, what is that?" Dean yelled.
"It's a Police Box," Sherlock dead panned. "Can't you see that?"