#ababs

Your amazing guessing skills continue! One letter off the title once again, earning everyone a sneak peek at the continuation of Brothers Consulted with--

A Burglary at Baker Street

Dazed and bruised, Sam was operating wholly on instinct as he heard someone entering the flat. “You son of a bitch,” he slurred, weakly trying to push Mark’s arm from where it was braced to pin him down.

Instincts guided his other hand, and Sam’s fingers wrapped around a familiar hilt. One he’d always kept at his side, but never wielded against another person.

In a flash, Sam’s silver knife was at Mark’s throat, trying to force a stalemate.

“Let. Me. Go,” Sam said, his daze shaken off by the adrenaline that surged through his body.

Mark froze at the cool touch of sharp metal against his neck, but his arm remained firm against Sam. He'd had weapons pulled on him before, but he'd never let any of them get this close. Mark's breathing quickened, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes with every rumbling step ascending the staircase just outside the flat door.

"I-I can't," he whimpered.

He shoved his knee into Sam's stomach, releasing Sam's collar to jump away from the knife. Tucking his chin in close, he lunged again to land behind Sam, quickly grabbing hold of his arms and twisting them behind his back. His grip on Sam's knife-wielding wrist was firm, yet he hesitated to deprive him of it.

"Please stop fighting," he begged, whispering in Sam's ear as the human outside drew ever nearer. "I don't want to hurt you. He will."

Sam snarled, suddenly resembling Dean more than ever as he railed against the inevitable. Even if he escaped, he'd never get away before the human got there.

"Do whatever you want," Sam growled. "My answer's not gonna change. Let me go, you sonovabitch."

Trying to twist away, Sam found Mark's hold on him too strong. He needed another way out. His mind racing, his lips moved to shoot out more sass and keep Mark distracted.

"So, what is this?" Sam asked derisively. "You'd side with a human over your own kind? Sell us out-- For what? Some extra food? " He snorted. "You're no better than a pet." Sam slammed his head back on his last word, aiming to knock Mark out.

Mark flinched back to avoid that fate, unable to dodge a solid blow to the chin. His grip tightened as he reeled back against the books again, the machine attached to him digging sharply into his ribs. He rolled his jaw and winced at the pain blooming across it.

It still hurt less than Sam's words.

"I don't have a choice…" Mark's defensive protest trailed off as the door across the room swung open. If the human overheard him speaking out, Mark would really be in for it.

A tall man in a dark suit and tan wool coat stepped in, his light blond hair slicked back and his cold grey eyes glancing up from his phone to dart around the flat.

@borrowedtimeandspace - I never mind questions about my OCs! Feel free to ask about my brand new boy. Just don’t expect any spoilers!

Stan is in fact gay, and happily engaged to his bisexual fiancee Nathan.

Which is lucky for Dean, because if they were the same size and Stan was single, the elder Winchester might have an energetic redhead crushing on him x3

I mean

Lookit that charm

"Somethin' on my face?" Dean asked Stan. He briefly reached up to brush at his hair and make sure it was properly spiked.

Sherlock turned his head toward Dean at the question before he realized it wasn't for him. Side-eyeing Stan, Sherlock went back to staring out the window and waiting out the ride.

For his part, Stan had absolutely no clue how to react to the small man's witticism. He was choking on a chuckle, uncertain if that would be out of line or offensive. But there was something about Dean's attitude that Agent Baker took a liking to.

Sherlock leaned in as Dean moved away, shifting to his knees and propping a hand on the dirty floor for stability. He was trying to emulate Dean's line of sight as closely as he could, and puzzle out just what his small companion thought he saw down there.

A small amount of odd discoloration in the dirt along the wall had just caught his eye as Dean looked over his shoulder in annoyance. “Do you have to hover?” he griped up at Sherlock, jerking his head at his shadowed path.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m the normal one in the car. It’s you two that are the giants. And I think I’m adorable.”

Stan had to laugh at that, light and friendly. He wasn't ridiculing Dean's perspective, but basking in the relaxed banter going on between them. Once he was assured Dean did exist, his next concern was how he would be to work with. He imagined someone so small would find human beings monstrously large.

Dean jabbed Sherlock in the neck. “Give me a hand,” he asked, hoping to avoid the trial of climbing down a human.

Sherlock blinked at the tiny pokes from the man on his shoulder, promptly lifting a hand for Dean to climb onto. Stan's brow lifted a fraction as he watched the strange pair with unveiled curiosity. The action was so simple, yet it reminded Stan of just how small Dean Winchester actually was. Nearly all of Sherlock's fingers outsized him, and somehow he could walk onto that hand seemingly without trepidation. Stan had to admire the amount of bravery that must take, entrusting someone so large with your fate.