Comments | winchester_lost: London. Midnight. On the Hunt.

winchester_lost

London. Midnight. On the Hunt.

Jun 13, 2011 02:01

Dean shut and locked the doors to his Impala, and then was following after Sherlock without a word. It was an easy rhythm they were starting to fall into, strangely comfortable, despite the friction, hints of challenge. Normal people usually had to be taken by the hand, but Sherlock almost seemed to know the steps as if he lived them as well. It ( Read more... )

Comments 56

winchester_lost June 16 2011, 08:31:38 UTC

Trying to reload his gun, while trying to avoid the creature's rather unpleasant looking teeth and claws did not go particularly well for Dean. He gave up after a moment, punching the thing across the jaw, its claws catching Dean across the chest, scarlet blossoming in thin trails as it shredded his thin tee-shirt ( ... )

sherlock_please June 16 2011, 08:32:36 UTC

The silver wasn't doing much, but it was doing something. Sherlock could see the glint of liquified silver in the dim light cast by the street lamps of the bridge. It appeared that the bullets had become molten, were running from her body like blood. He did not see blood accompanying them, however ( ... )

winchester_lost June 16 2011, 08:33:39 UTC

Dean gasped and spluttered as Sherlock hauled him up from the water, hands clinging to the man, clutching with desperation as he coughed up water. Gasping for breath with his head pressed in against the side of the man's neck, trying to get his feet under him as Sherlock cradled him against his chest, and it was all Dean could do to hold onto him, arms wrapped around his neck. His usual macho tough guy thing nowhere to be found as he fought just to breathe. Sherlock was someone he could cling to, though he couldn't have explained the how or the why. The man was smart, sharp, strong in ways Dean couldn't articulate, but was simply aware of. He needed him, not that he'd say as much ( ... )

sherlock_please June 16 2011, 08:34:42 UTC

As it became apparent that Dean was going to be alright Sherlock was suddenly furious. He was furious that Dean had so willfully risked his life in such a stupid manner, using himself as bait and sending Sherlock to fetch a weapon that he knew wasn't going to be effective. Regardless of the fact that the silver bullets had, in the end, caused the creature to flee, it hadn't killed it, and wasn't worth the risk Dean had taken ( ... )

winchester_lost June 16 2011, 08:35:20 UTC

Dean blinked, looking at Sherlock in surprise at the venom in the man's voice. It made him feel sheepish, almost embarrassed, though it was hard to pin down why. It had been reckless, yes, but it had also been necessary. He hadn't just been about to let her make a victim of the poor sap. Of course, the truth was that he'd put himself far more at risk than there was any justification for. It was a fact that Dean was willfully oblivious to, however.

Sherlock was angry with him. Honestly truly angry, and that had Dean blinking, trying to wrap his head around the fact. He took the gun and the keys as Sherlock shoved them into his hands roughly, and then the man was telling him to get in the car. Dean was confused enough with what was going on to consider arguing, that he wasn't getting in the car... But, he was drenched and it was midnight in London in October, which meant there was a stiff breeze coming up off the Thames. Dean shivered, making a sound of pure exasperation as he squelched toward the car ( ... )

sherlock_please June 16 2011, 08:37:08 UTC

Sherlock was sitting, soaked to the skin and wrapped tightly in his coat, staring sullenly out the window. He wasn't dealing well with this. Being angry wasn't helping the situation any, it wasn't helping him figure out how to actually kill the Nix, or more importantly, really, how to get back John and Sam and kill the demon. But he was angry, all the same, his thoughts wrapped up in something that was actually a distraction from his work. He was angry at Dean for that, for having managed to work his way into his mind in such a way as to be a hindrance ( ... )

winchester_lost June 16 2011, 08:37:37 UTC

Dean wanted to yell back at Sherlock, but he had a point, as much as it bothered Dean. He hadn't had a plan. He'd had a vague idea about metals like iron and silver having an effect on things sometimes, even if it didn't kill them. But it had all been entirely dubious, lucky guesses and prayer to things he didn't believe in. Because he'd had to save the unlucky sod she'd picked for a victim. And somehow, for reasons Dean tried really hard not to examine, he'd had to put himself at risk. Knowing they didn't know how to kill it, knowing that the iron bullets in his gun didn't work, he'd had to fight it. And then the other man was trying to get out of the car... and failing. Dean sighed, reaching across Sherlock's body to pull the handle and let the other man out ( ... )

sherlock_please June 16 2011, 08:38:30 UTC

Sherlock left the car wordlessly, shutting the door behind himself before going inside. The way was left open for Dean, unlocked so that he could come in, because despite this having just happened and how upset he was with Dean, he wasn't about to turn him away. If nothing else, all of this had shown Sherlock that what Dean was saying, what was in this journal was real, and if he'd felt it urgent to keep him nearby, to work together with him to get Sam and John back, he was certain of it now ( ... )

winchester_lost June 16 2011, 08:39:25 UTC

Dean stared at Sherlock as the man told him to sleep on the couch, part of him wanted to follow him, pick a fight, because at least then things would be out in the open instead of this tension he wasn't sure how to deal with. He sighed in exasperation, watched as Sherlock slammed the door to his room, and cursed mutedly under his breath. He took a hot shower, which made him feel a lot less half-drowned and a little bit more human. He changed into dry clothes and fixed himself a cup of tea; usually more for coffee, but it was what was what he could find, and he needed something to get the taste of the Thames out of his mouth. Ugh ( ... )

sherlock_please June 16 2011, 08:40:37 UTC

Some time had passed, and Sherlock had started to nod off with the journal open on his chest. He'd been reading it up until the point where it fell down against his chest and his blinks had grown longer and lazier, stringing together to the point where it was a struggle to open his eyes. He didn't normally sleep much in the middle of a case, but this one had been ongoing, so many people gone missing, and now John and Sam, but it had been going for so long and today had been exhausting and Sherlock's body just couldn't hold up against all of this with no sleep at all. At the very least, he needed a few solid hours before getting up to carry on reading, to get past whatever this was and talk more with Dean. But first, sleep. He'd allow himself a little, and had only just slipped off to sleep when he heard a sound ( ... )