Approaching footsteps caused John to close his book. "Good then, Mrs. Hudson. Just set the mail-" The words stopped in his throat as two grown men stalked into the room. John sputtered in his seat. "Wh-what are you guys doing back here? I thought we already finished the case." Sam Winchester shoved his hands in his pockets, apology spreading across his face. Dean threw his hands out.
"We thought we had, too. But apparently your freak of a boyfriend didn't find all the clues." He stalked over the mantel and picked up the skull carelessly. John's mouth dropped open.
"Sherlock is not a freak!" He jumped up and grabbed the skull. "And don't touch that! It's very old."
Dean smirked. "Or what? Your boyfriend will get pissed?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on, Dean." He turned to John. "There were apparently two victims in the fire last year, not one like we had previously thought. We burned the button that belonged to the first, but we have yet to find anything that connects to the second." He ran a hand through his hair. "That's where we need your help."
John stood silently for a moment. He had no problem working with the Winchesters. Sam was a nice guy and actually enjoyable to be around. Dean on the other hand, he had to ignore. Sherlock was the one that had the problem. Him and Dean did not work well together and John wasn't sure he was up for any more arguments. He had barely gotten Sherlock to agree on helping them in the first place.
"Um…just let me go talk to Sherlock, first."
"Talk to me about what?"
John jumped. Sherlock padded into the living room. His hair was tousled from sleep and he wore fuxxy slippers. Realizing he was still holding the skull, John quickly placed it back on the mantel.
"Well, the Winchesters-"
"You didn't finish the case, brainiac." Dean cut in before John could finish. Sherlock was instantly awake.
"Yes, I did. It was obvious. I found the victims clothing so you could send the person to the other side. There's nothing more to discuss."
In three strides, Dean was nose to nose with Sherlock. "Well you were wrong."
"I am never wrong." Sherlock enunciated every word. Sam and John exchanged warning glances.
"Then how come two people are dead?" Dean shouted. "TWO people. They were killed in the same exact way as the first victim." He waved his hands. "And all because YOU missed a clue! You're supposed to be the best!"
Sam walked over and laid a hand on his brothers shoulder. "Dean-"
Dean shrugged him off. "And another thing. Why is it that you're hiding away in your little apartment while my brother and I are busting our asses chasing down all of these connections that you come up with?"
Sherlock's eyes narrowed, but he kept his poise. "If you weren't such a- oh, what do you Americans say? -Meat head, then you would have obviously figured this case out on your own. So you are in no position to question my intellect."
John cleared his throat. "Alright, ladies. Let's just calm down."
"Ladies?" Dean spun around, his green eyes flaming.
"Bad idea," Sam muttered under his breath. Dean stormed over to John, dwarfing him with his height.
"And you! Don't even get me started on your insanity. All you do is follow your boyfriend around and wait on him hand and foot! He's not some special little snowflake like you want him to be! He's just a freak and you are the biggest pushover-"
"DEAN!" Sherlock bellowed. John's eyes widened. He had only ever hear Sherlock yell once, and that was at Mycroft when he told Mrs. Hudson to shut up. "Let him go!" John hadn't realized that Dean had grabbed the collar of his jumper. Dean let it go but kept his eyes on John.
"Ok, can we just start over here?" Sam asked, pushing Dean back. "Please? There's a job that needs to be done." He locked eyes with his brother for a moment, daring him to argue more. Dean clenched his jaw and turned to face Sherlock.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Good." Sam pinched his temple.
"One last thing, though." Before Sam could stop him, Dean threw his fist at Sherlock and punched him in the face. As Sherlock stumbled back, Dean shook his hand. "Son of a bitch! You have a hard face!"
"Must be my gorgeous cheek bones." Sherlock wiped the blood from his mouth. Dean lunged at him again, but Sam grabbed him first.
"Alright," He grunted, pulling Dean back. Turning to John, he rolled his eyes. "I guess you and I will just skype again like we did yesterday." Dean shoved his arms away. "I think that'll be a more successful form of communicate."
"I agree," John replied. As the Winchesters left, John ran over to examine Sherlock's face. He cleaned the blood from Sherlocks cheek and sighed. "You can't just retaliate every time that bone head says something stupid. He does it a lot."
Sherlock smirked. "I can't help it. It's hilarious to watch him get so pissed off."
John couldn't help but laugh. After a minute, he finished cleaning Sherlock's face, leaving him to examine his wounds in the mirror.
"By the way, John," Sherlock said, " I highly doubt that it takes five hours to talk about a simple hunting case with Samuel Winchester." John blushed. "Do be on skype less today than you were yesterday, it costs us money."