Dean materialized with Sam and Cas outside of St. Bart's Hospital in London. He was still rather new to traveling by thought, but he had a feeling this was the right place. While Sam and Cas gained their footing, Dean landed effortlessly.

He felt his eyes turn black as he scanned for any sign of people around. The building was empty, only the faint signature of electricity stuck out to Dean's heightened senses. The basement held the morgue, there were seven bodies down there. He could easily possess a corpse down there and get the information they needed.

But Sam was staring at him. His eyes returned to their natural green, and he looked at the ground. He knew it was a monster Sam saw when he looked at him. It made him feel self conscious at the very least.

"The place is empty," Dean said, "And there's a door around the side that has crappy wiring and probably won't set off an alarm."

Sam grimaced and asked, "Probably?"

"If the alarm goes off, I can pop us out of there before anyone notices," Dean assured him.

Sam walked towards the powerless door. "That's the problem," he muttered.

Dean sighed, frustrated. He was never going to get his brother back, was he? First, they're not brothers, then Sam's saying he does care, and now, Dean was fairly certain Sam would prefer him rotting in a pine box. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Cas touched Dean's shoulder and offered a sympathetic smile. At least he had Cas. It didn't help the situation with Sam, but it was something. Dean broke eye contact with Cas, and they followed after Sam.

They got into the morgue without much trouble. "It's this one," Sam said, reading the name on the morgue drawer door, "Camden Phillips." Dean and Cas both looked at the corpse as Sam opened the drawer. It was definitely an old man.

Cas said, "It wasn't witches."

"How can you tell?" Dean asked.

Cas explained, "When witchcraft is involved, it affects the energy. See?"

Dean looked at the body and saw only a body.

"No," Cas said, "Human eyes can't see energy signatures." Dean turned his eyes black and pointedly did not look over at Sam.

The body had arrays of blue, white, and purple light bouncing from atom to atom. Dean had gotten accustomed to seeing Sam like that occasionally, but the body's energy was much more subdued probably due to the fact that Camden was dead.

Cas said, "If witchcraft is involved, the energy gets disrupted. You'll see a break in the flow somewhere where witches used the energy or manipulated it somehow. No witches have touched the body."

Dean nodded, trying to hide his excitement at learning something new about his mojo.

Sam scoffed, "Hasn't Crowley taught you all of your powers yet?"

Dean glared at Sam, only realizing his eyes were still black when Sam cringed away from him.

"The last time I saw Crowley, I punched him in the face," Dean said flatly.

Before anyone could say anything else, the door to the morgue opened. A tall man in a long black coat approached the Winchesters quickly. "Who are you?" he asked.

Dean turned towards Cas and met his gaze to make sure his eyes weren't demonic. Cas stared back, and the lack of reservation in the eye contact was all the assurance Dean needed. He quickly turned to the newcomer and said, "We're Agents Plant, Stanley, and McCartney from Scotland Yard."

The man encroached on Dean's personal space and tilted his head to the side in a way that really reminded Dean of Cas.

"You're agents from Scotland Yard with American accents?" the man said, calling their bluff.

Dean struggled to grasp at another lie but was stopped by another, shorter man entering the room.

"Are you-you're not-?" the short, blond man stammered.

"John?" the taller man asked.

The shorter man, John apparently, walked up to Cas. "You're the angel, Castiel," he said.

Cas squinted at John, confused.

"How do you know who he is?" Dean asked, defensive.

John looked at Dean and laughed to himself like he was losing his mind.

"Sherlock," John said excitedly, "These are the characters from the Supernatural books. I'd bet my life on it."

Dean and Sam shared an exasperated look, which left Dean feeling slightly hopeful about his brother.

Sherlock sighed, "That's not possible."

"What else could explain it?" John asked, "They used musician names as aliases, they're obviously looking at the body for clues, and who but Castiel could have eyes like that?"

"You know, you're not the usual demographic," Sam said to John.

"Yeah," Dean said, "It's usually women and gay guys. What, are you and scarfy over there together or something?"

John shook his head, clearly frustrated. "No, we aren't," he said tight lipped, "And I'm not gay. I just read for the plot. It's a good story."

Dean saw Sherlock's jaw clench imperceptibly and wondered if John didn't just have his head up his ass about his feelings.

"Well, it's not boring, I'll give you that," Dean said, grinning.

"I can't wait to tell Mary," John said.

Sam asked, "Who's Mary?"

"My wife."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Mary and John? Really?

"Like today wasn't weird enough," Dean muttered.

Sam said to John quickly, "Don't have kids."

Before John could reply, Sherlock said, "This is ludicrous, John. You expect me to believe that characters from a paperback series you like happen to be real? I'm a sociopath not a moron."

Cas stepped in front of Dean. He asked, "Would some proof help us get back to the case at hand?"

Sherlock fixed Cas with a hard stare and said, "Impress me."

Cas grabbed Dean's hand, which both startled Dean and sent his heart into overdrive.

"If I prove to you that I'm an angel, you'll help us with this case?" Cas asked.

Sherlock nodded, scrutinizing Cas with a gaze that Dean wasn't entirely comfortable with. Dean realized why Cas grabbed his hand and felt like an idiot.

Cas said, "Okay," and Dean teleported them to the hospital roof.

Cas stumbled a bit when they landed on the dark roof. Dean held Cas to him to keep him from falling.

"You're right," Cas said, "It's weird not having the wings anymore."

Dean smiled down at Cas.

"Cas," Dean breathed.

Cas stared back at him.

"Are you guys gonna make out or-" Gabriel said from next to them.

Dean and Cas jumped apart.

"Gabriel? What the hell?" Dean shouted.

Gabriel grinned while staring off in the distance. Cas walked over to his brother and slapped him across the face.

"I thought you were dead!" Cas yelled.

Gabriel held a hand to his face and looked at Cas in shock. Quickly, his eyes darted back to where he'd been staring.

"Shit," Gabe breathed, "Apologies later. We're in trouble." He grabbed Dean and Cas and transported them downstairs.

"We need to go," Gabriel said.

"Who the hell is this?" Sherlock asked.

Sam and John gasped in unison, "Gabriel?"

"Yes, hi. I'm alive," Gabe said, "We need to go now!"

A crash came at the door.

Gabriel stared at the door and ordered, "Bunker. Now."

Gabriel grabbed Sherlock and John while Dean put hands on Sam's and Cas' shoulders. The door burst open, and they were all safely in the war room of the Men of Letters bunker.

"What was that? Why are we here? What's going on?" John asked.

"It was an angel," Gabriel said.

Sherlock sat in a chair with a far off gaze.

"Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock waved him off.

"Which angel?" Cas asked.

Gabriel shook his head, "It's not an angel like us. It's a living angel statue. I've never seen anything like it."

Sherlock stood up quickly. "Do you have a phone?" he asked.

Sam nodded and handed him his cell phone.

"I know someone who's seen something like this before," Sherlock explained. He punched in numbers and waited in a room full of silent confusion.

"Hello, Doctor," Sherlock said, "You said to call if I needed help, and I believe we need your help."