Disclaimer: All mistakes are my own and I do not own these characters.
Sorry for not responding to the comments I'v been on vacation and will get to them soon.
Chapter 2
The American moved in by the end of the week. Mrs. Hudson was so thrilled to have a tenant for 221C not even Sherlock's scathing remarks about letting some unknown American rent the flat could bring the elderly woman down. Mrs. Hudson busied herself with cleaning and preparing the 221C while also baking a welcome pi, much to Sherlock's displeasure, after all she constantly reminded the detective about how she was a landlady and not a housekeeper. Sherlock profusely hoped the hero worship would wear off sooner rather than later. He never got this kind of treatment after saving Mrs. Hudson, granted she was usually in need of saving because of him. Sherlock huffed, agitated as he drummed his fingers along the arms of his chair. John would be back shortly, that would provide some entertainment. If only he had a case, this new tenant business was dreadfully dull and the man who would be residing in 221C sounded like an absolute idiot with his gruff American drawl.
Sherlock tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing. The man's voice sounded out of place within 221 Baker Street, the gruff world weary tone at odds with the chaotic intelligence that permeated the air of 221B. The deep, firm quality of the voice combined with the weariness suggests a man past the midpoint of his life. This information, however, was contradicting to what Sherlock had overheard Mrs. Hudson say about the man. Apparently, this American needed a place to stay, at least more permanently than a motel room. Sherlock scoffed, what kind of person picks up and moves to another country without a plan or proper housing. Not an individual past their 50s, which decreases the man's age. The man could be running from something, Sherlock muses. Financial debts would explain the lack of ability to pay rent. However, people suffering financially would not move to a place more costly to live than the average American city. Sherlock sighed, he hoped it wasn't something as mundane as family or other relationship problems, but that was usually the best candidate.
Sherlock stirred slightly in his chair, hearing John enter the flat weighed down by grocery bags.
"New bloke's moving in today," John remarked as he began putting the groceries away.
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson won't stop going on about it," Sherlock muttered as he rolled his eyes.
"Well, he did save her from that mugger," John gave Sherlock a reprimanding look over his shoulder.
"Have you met him yet?" John asked, turning back to finish putting away the groceries.
"Please," Sherlock snorted in derision.
"What? Come now Sherlock, he's our new housemate it's the least we could do," John scolded the dark haired man.
"Why," Sherlock drawled, already bored with this conversation, he should have known John would be intrigued by the newcomer and therefore an insufficient source of amusement.
"Because, Sherlock, it'd be the nice thing to do. And I don't want to wake up one day and find out I'm living above a psychopath. Well, another psychopath," John exclaimed with a slight grin, shaking his head.
"High functioning sociopath," Sherlock muttered, sending a quick glare at John. The doctor simply ignored him and grabbed the newspaper before relaxing in the chair across from Sherlock.
"I suppose you want to extend an invitation for dinner or the customary drinks to this man," Sherlock despaired, mouth curling unpleasantly.
"It would be the proper thing to do," John said, hiding a grin behind the newspaper. Sherlock grimaced, sharp eyes flicking over to the door as Mrs. Hudson poked her head in before motioning to someone behind her and entering the flat.
"Sherlock, John, this is Dean Winchester the new tenant in 221C. I thought it best if I introduce everyone, heaven's knows Sherlock would never get around to doing it," Mrs. Hudson chattered as the three men's eyes traveled over one another.
"Welcome to London Dean. I'm John Watson, if you need anything don't hesitate to ask," Sherlock heard John introduce himself and a part of his brain knew full well that it was his turn for an introduction, Sherlock's mind however, was in overdrive.
Deductions flew through Sherlock's mind and swirled in the air around Dean Winchester. The American gave his real name, which was odd because the rest of his persona was a lie. An exceedingly well crafted, thoroughly rehearsed lie.
"Sherlock," John snapping his name jerked the detective out of the beginnings of his deductions.
"Sherlock Holmes," he put on his most charming smile, instantly drawing a suspicious gaze from John.
"Dean Winchester," the deep American voice sounded, accompanied by the same smile as Sherlock's.
The smile was just as vapid and false as Sherlock's, but displayed with a practiced ease. Sherlock's skin crawled with the desire to denounce this man as a fraud or at the very least a liar.
Sherlock and Dean continued to stare at each other while John and Mrs. Hudson looked on, John with an impressed glint in his eye. The former soldier could tell his life was about to get even more interesting, as if that was even possible. There was an unidentifiable tension surrounding Dean and Sherlock, both men clearly analyzing the other, but to what outcome, John couldn't begin to hazard a guess. Clearing his throat, John gained Dean's attention after a second with a polite raising of sandy eyebrows.
"So Dean, what brings you to London?" John was curious, the American seemed so out of place, even for a tourist.
"Just had the chance for a change of scenery and decided to take it," Dean casually remarked resulting in a disagreeing snort from Sherlock.
John's eyes quickly cut to his friend, warning the detective to keep his mouth shut. Sherlock glared, conceding to John causing the doctor to grin. John glanced back at Dean who had a small smile on his face, almost wistful, softening his green eyes.
"Well, I'm sure London is nothing like anywhere you've ever been," John smiled at their new housemate, "and really, if you need anything don't hesitate to ask," John nodded encouragingly as Dean looked somewhat uncomfortable with the prospect of having to ask someone for help.
"Yes, actually John and I were just talking about inviting you out for dinner or a beer, which I am sure you would prefer," Sherlock spoke up in a flurry of movement, avoiding John's suspicious gaze, sharp eyes focused on Dean's reaction to his subtle deduction on his past reliance on alcohol.
"Yeah, sure man, a beer would be great," Dean agreed, the slight narrowing of his eyes the only indication that Sherlock's remark hadn't gone unnoticed.
The man was a con artist and an excellent one at that, Sherlock hid a manic grin behind what he hoped was a pleasant smile. Judging by John's pinched expression, he wasn't succeeding. Mrs. Hudson in contrast had a huge smile on her face, hands clasped together clearly pleased.
"Excellent, how's tonight, John will give you the details," Sherlock stated, dismissing the room.
"Actually, tonight's not good for me, gotta unpack. I can do tomorrow, unless you've got something going on," Dean gave Sherlock and John a slightly apologetic smile.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "what could you possibly have to unpack," he demanded, distantly hearing John huff as he watched Dean tense.
"Dude, I just moved here from the States, usually people have things to unpack when they move," Dean rolled his eyes, annoyed.
"You came here with a duffel bag. Please tell me what you could possibly have to unpack," Sherlock drawled, smirking at Dean's shocked expression.
"Well maybe I just don't want to be around your charming self," Dean snapped, hackles rising.
"Well, that's probably the closest to the truth you are going to get," Sherlock belittled, eyes lighting up as he watched Dean grow progressively angrier.
"What the hell man. Do you get off on being a total tool," Dean exclaimed, hands balled into fists.
"Alright, easy, we can try for beers tomorrow," John soothed, the doctor's eyes catching Sherlock's.
Sherlock sighed, nodding distractedly, getting tired with this discussion. He had deductions that needed to be analyzed, conclusions to figure out all revolving around Dean Winchester.