—h u m a n

[ ✧ ]

                                       [her eyes widened                                          for a moment, brows                                          furrowed and arms limp                                          at her sides. the dull                                          thud of the marker                                          brought her back to her                                          senses. without a word,                                          her eyes wandered                                          to her surroundings:                                          it all looked                                          foreign. ]

                                       [ they returned to his face. ]

                      “—No, I—”

                                       [and with that, an idea                                          came to mind. ]

                      “I'm just a traveler. —Lost. A lost traveler.”

                                 ( he could've also                                     pointed out the                                     flaws in her statement,                                     and the way she                                     said it, the hesitation                                     before she spoke, her                                     reaction to the flat— )

                               ( but he didn't. )

        ❝A lost traveller.❞

                 ( his voice is                     laced with                     skepticism,                      and he clasps                      his hands                      behind his                       back. )

          that would explain a lot of things, actually. he’s heard of           this guy. oh so cocky, and rude as hell, but very intelligent           in an arrogant way. too bad it’s obvious from his expression           he doesn’t quite understand what the crime scene looks like.           nobody would understand it since half of the people there            don’t even know the supernatural exists.

                                                              ’ Pleasure. M’ names Dean. ‘

                        he pauses for a moment to look back at the                         crime scene. it’s obvious enough that it’s a                          revenge filled spirit. 

         He turned around          when Dean continues          speaking, narrowing          his eyes a little,          wondering if Dean          is implying that he          should know what          was going on.

                             He might be right,                              actually, but Sherlock                              didn't take well to                              knowing less than                              he should.

                 ❝—And you do know what's going on?❞