Chapter 15: Don't be a Castiel

I stood in the TARDIS, doing some rewiring in the projector's system so that two or more people could use it in case of emergency. Who knows what could happen now? Moriarty took an interest in Amy and I couldn't let her go out as a projection on her own if we had to. I'd send myself alongside her, or Rory at least. I knew that he would protect her better than I could.

That's when I heard the door of the TARDIS open. I left it unlocked just in case anyone needed my help, though I doubted anyone would. Turns out I was wrong.

I turned around to see Sherlock standing there. He was dressed nicely in a purple button up shirt and boring black pants.

"Is it morning?" I asked.

"No," Sherlock replied, "Quite the opposite."

"What's the matter? Is everyone OK?"

"Of course," Sherlock said sadly, "how does it really work?"

"It's Time Lord technology. I'm Time Lord," I played it safe and didn't tell him that he could possibly also be Time Lord.

"Is that alien?" He asked.

"Yes," I replied, "Is something wrong? You look… upset."

"It all seems so familiar," he told me.

"You mean you recognize it?" I asked, getting excited.

"No. The idea is familiar. Bigger on the inside, travels through time and space," Sherlock explained.

"Oh," I said, slightly disappointed, "That's not it is it?"

Sherlock sighed, "Can I trust you, Doctor?"

"Yes," I said. I was used to people trusting me without a second thought, but I never expected Sherlock to be that way. He just didn't seem like the kind of person that would trust a person he'd just met.

"It's John."

"What about him?"

"He has a wife now, and is about to have a daughter. He is into demons now like Sam and Dean. I think he's moving on from me," Sherlock told me.

"How could you say that?" I said, surprised, "I've known you two for barely two hours and I know that you mean everything to him."

Sherlock looked at me. His look said yeah right.

"The way he looks at you. Not just that, he wouldn't leave your side while we were in here. I think you mean more to him than Sam, Dean, demons or TARDIS ever will," I said, walking over to him.

Sherlock smiled for a minute, but then it faded, "He's been having troubles with his wife. I am trying to help him, but I don't know how."

"What's going on between them?"

"There was this man, Charles Augustus Magnussen, he was a threat to Mary. She was going to kill him, but I caught her, and she shot me. She had no other option. I forgave her. But John didn't," Sherlock explained.

"I don't like guns," I commented, "I'm not going to side with either of you on whether it was right or wrong, that's up to you. But she's John's wife and it's up to him whether he forgives her or not. All you can do is be there for him when he decides, and support his decision."

"But I don't know how to be there for him. I don't know how to support him through this," Sherlock said, clearly frustrated.

"There's a reason that John is your mate and has stuck with you through everything. Maybe he just wants you to be you, and be by his side when he makes his decision instead of questioning it," I said, hoping I was doing a good job. I was a bit bad with relationship advice, seeing as all mine had crashed and burned.

"Thank you, Doctor. I think," he sighed, "I think John is more to me than just a friend. But not the other way around."

"You mean like… love?" I asked. Sherlock nodded. A huge smile grew on my face, "That's brilliant, Sherlock! Absolutely brilliant! Love is the most wonderful thing in the universe, it's so powerful. I wouldn't say that John doesn't love you, maybe he's just to shy to admit it. Maybe he loves you and thinks that you don't love him back but it's just because he's too afraid to say anything. Tell you what, Sherly, talk to him. Don't tell him all at once but start showing him love."

Sherlock smiled, "I will."

"Oh, this is wonderful isn't it. I love love," I said excitedly.

"You won't say anything?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course not. You need to tell him yourself. That's the only way he'll know that you mean it," I told him, then I remembered something and I laughed.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"I just remembered. Don't tell John like Dean did," I told him.

"What do you mean?"

"I was going through their history while I was in here. I wanted to see what they'd been up to after I'd saved them. They have this friend named Castiel, he's angel, and the other day he walked right up to Dean and said 'I love you' and now Dean is upset at him," I said.

"Why are you telling me this?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't be a Castiel," I said.

"Isn't that personal?"

"The great Sherlock Holmes asking about people's personal space, never thought I'd see the day," I laughed, "You wouldn't tell."

"I wouldn't. I'm a dick, not a bully."

"Oi! No foul language inside the TARDIS! Her ears are sensitive."

"Apologies," Sherlock smiled.

I was beginning to really like Sherlock. At first, he really did seem like a jerk. Now that I knew him a bit more, he was a good person underneath all the facts and deduction. He would be a good person to have around, we were almost at the same level.

"You keep doing whatever you do. I'm off to bed," Sherlock said and headed to the exit of the TARDIS.

"Don't you mean the sofa?" I teased and he laughed. In the blink of an eye I was alone again.

"Doctor, get out here!" Sherlock pushed the door of the TARDIS opened quickly and was gone just as fast. My heartbeats picked up when I heard the urgency in his voice.

I rushed out of the TARDIS to find Sam laying on the floor and Sherlock crouching over him in a panic. Sam was holding his head in between his hands and letting out groans of agony.

"What happened?" I demanded, running to Sam's side.

"He came in here and said he needed your help," Sherlock said.

"Sam, what's wrong? Sam!" I called.

"The book," he said, pointing across the floor, where the leather journal that he had been writing in earlier had scattered across the floor. I quickly picked it up.

"This?" I questioned, holding it near his face. He nodded. "What about it?"

"Can't stop," He muttered.

I opened it up and flicked through the pages. At the beginning were a few simple notes on demons hunting, then notes on his experiences with tricksters compared to Moriarty, after that he took notes about his interviews, suddenly the notes were more like a journal. His every thought was been written in this journal.

"It's created a psychic link," I explained.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sherlock asked.

"The more he wrote in it, the more he grew attached to it. The book is feeding off his thoughts. He's poured his knowledge into this and now it has control over his mind, and making him write everything he thinks in here," I explained.

"How do we stop it?" Sherlock asked.

"I have no idea!" I said, "And I really don't like not knowing."

"Destroy it!" Sherlock grabbed the book from my grasp.

"No! Stop! If you destroy it now, Sam will go with it," I said, grabbing the journal back from Sherlock. "We need- we need to separate them," I was beginning to panic.

"Or let him write in it until he doesn't have anything left to write," Sherlock suggested. It could work. But then the journal would learn from Sam's thoughts. I didn't see how that could be any harm to us so I was willing to give it a shot.

"A pen," I said. Sherlock grabbed one and passed it to me. I tried to explain our plan to Sam, whether he heard or not was a mystery, "Alright, Sam, don't be afraid to write in it. We're going to see if we can wear it out. No one will read it, don't worry about writing anything personal."

I handed him the book and pen and watched as he scribbled all over the blank pages. I could tell that it was English, but it was unreadable. It didn't take him long to slow down and eventually stop. He lied panting on the floor with Sherlock and I crouched beside him. I waited until my heartbeats normalized before I said anything.

"Sherlock, go make sure we haven't woken anyone up," I said. He nodded then left.

"What happened?" Sam asked when he regained his breath.

"Do you remember any of it?" I asked.

"I remember that I couldn't stop writing, and… I don't know," he said.

"You came to the right place," I said. "Keep it up."

"So what happened?" He asked again.

"The journal is alive. It's been creating a psychic link with you since you started writing in it, tonight it was strong, which is why you couldn't stop. We let you write until you had nothing left," I explained.

"Get rid of it," Sam said.

"I can't destroy it. Destroying it would mean the death of you."

Sherlock came back into the room, "Only John was awake. I told him that he was sleepwalking and sent him back to bed. Amy and Rory are fine."

"Good. Good. Wouldn't want to disturb them," I said half to myself. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it where I'm staying. With Kevin Baker," Sam explained. I felt Sherlock tense beside me at the sound of Kevin Baker's name.

"Don't go back there," I said. "You can't take the chance."

"What about Dean?" he asked.

"He's asleep now, don't disturb him, but tomorrow night you're going to need to get a hotel or something," I said, standing up.

"Where now?"

"Sherlock, do you have a sleeping bag?" I said.

"Yes, I'll grab it."

"I've loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand more."

-Christina Perri, A Thousand Years