Shoot, Salt, and Sonic

[pudding]

"I am having visions about him," Castiel repeated. "It is worrisome and I was wondering why. Do you know where he has gone? It is possible this is some kind of wicked omen of bad things to come."

[shadow_claw]

((What if Sherlock was HALF Timelord, his mother being Mrs. Holmes and father being...that's right, THE MASTER. But Sherlock doesn't know it. Wouldn't that just be barrels of fun?))

 

Because the last thing we need right now is a megalomaniac alien coming back in another failed attempt to rule the world. Sherlock muttered into his cup. He continued to drink the hot tea until he seemed content with the little amount of energy it gave him. The cup was set back onto the tray. A quick glance at everyone had him wondering a few things. Sherlock's eyes locked on Castiel's. What did you do with John? It is painfully obvious you met him. He doesn't know any of you either, so I suppose you attempted to be rid of him? Sherlock would be unstoppable if Castiel did happen to kill John. Dean and company weren't the kindest of folks, especially if someone was in their way. It was only a natural assumption.

[pudding]

John? Oh right, John Watson was the name of the man upstairs. "He is sleeping," Castiel replied before John shouldered his way past the Doctor. "Was sleeping."

"Right, who parked a bloody phone box in the middle of our flat?" He asked before his eyes found the figure on the bed. Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. He was alive, laying on his bed and drinking a cup of tea as if nothing at all had happened. John barely managed to check himself and instead pointed an accusing finger at him. "I should punch you," he declared then shook his head and looked away. He looked between the strange people around the bed then moved out of the room. Nope. That was it, he was leaving. Stupid detective would have to get himself a new flat mate.

 

((That would be hilarious.))

[shadow_claw]

((That's what I was thinking.))

 

Sherlock jerked his thumb towards The Doctor at John's question. He seemed visibly relieved at the fact that John was alright. His friend, untouched and just pissed. Where the bloody Hell do you think you're going?! Just like that, sherlock was stumbling after John. That's it, all of you get out of our flat! We can speak of all of this later instead of barging or materializing inside! He had enough of their visitors. After all, he was a sociopath.

[pudding]

"Where do you think I'm going?" John yelled back over his shoulder. He climbed the stairs up to his room and pulled a large duffle bag onto the bed. Not much was his since he packed light but he began ripping open drawers anyway and shoving all of his belongings into the bag. Clothing, computer, gun. Everything went in. "You're the damn detective, why don't you deduce it?"

[chicbecause]

((I'm all for it!))

 

"She doesn't like it when people speak to her that way!" The Doctor yelled running out to his TARDIS and subconsciously stroking her side. John's reaction, however, was understandable considering what had just occurred. Then, suddenly, Sherlock demanded them all out. "Wait, hold on a second!" He called, trailing after them, the he stopped. It was no use. He turned back to the American pair. "I can give you a lift if you like."

[pudding]

"That will not be necessary," Cas immediately replied as he moved out of the bedroom to stare at the Doctor. "I can fly us back home," he added. Suddenly, his vision went dark and the angel grimaced as he saw another scene.

A man sitting in a cell, wearing a straight jacket, his fingers drumming out a 4-count rhythm. Words he couldn't quite understand. And a name, repeated over and over again.

Saxon.

The angel held his head and closed his eyes, trying to banish the visions.

[shadow_claw]

Sherlock went after John and stood in the doorway. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why was he so stupid?! Sherlock stood in the doorway, his blue-gren-grey eyes narrowed. I come back and this is the reaction I get? Excuse me for saving your life, you ungrateful twit! He spat at the veteran. John never realized that Sherlock suffered just as much as he did.

 

"Cas!" Dean supported the angel, worry shining in his brown eyes. These visions were getting worse. There was no way Dean was letting him fly. "Yeah Doctor, we'll take you up on your offer." The hunter declared. He slowly led Castiel into the TARDIS as he spoke

[pudding]

John stopped mid packing and straightened upright. He turned to the detective and walked over, staring up at him. "You came back? Do you have any idea how hard this was? I saw my best friend jump off a building in front of me. You didn't tell me anything and I was left thinking you were dead! Dammit Sherlock, you have absolutely no regard for other people's feelings! And I'm leaving before you decide to pull a stunt like this again. Congratulations, Sherlock Holmes. You really don't have any friends."

 

"I am fine, Dean," he replied as his vision gradually returned. "It was just a bit longer this time, that is all."

[shadow_claw]

And I haven't for three years! Do you think I actually wanted to fake my own death?! That I enjoyed three years of the streets!? Moriarty was going to kill you and Lestraude an Mrs. Hudson if I didn't do anything! And if that happened I would have actually killed myself! Sherlock retorted. He stared down at John as he stopped, now shaking even worse than before. He went unnaturally pale as he yelled and swayed once when he lost his balance. I don't care how you feel, because you wouldn't be feeling right now if I didn't jump.

 

"Oh no you're not. I'm not letting you use any of your angel mojo until I'm sure you're alright. You're sitting out for this one whether you like it or not." Dean stated. Castiel was like a feathery brother to him, and Dean was going to treat him just like one of his brothers. He was ging to worry over Cas just like he worried over Sam.

Edited November 26, 2013 by shadow_claw

[pudding]

"What?" John asked. Kill him? Ms. Hudson as well? What the Hell had happened behind his back? When Sherlock lost his balance, he instinctively reached out and tried to steady the taller man. Three years on the streets? Good God, how was he still standing? "What do you mean, kill me? Moriarty's dead, isn't he?"

 

 

[shadow_claw]

Sherlock still glared down at John even though he now seemed concerned. a sudden change at heart meant nothing to him. It was all just pity. Assassins. He hired assassins. The tenant living in this complex was to kill Mrs. Hudson, and two others were sent to snipe you and Lestraude. My death was the only way to stop them from shooting. he answered, his voice straining at the thought. It didn't matter if Moriarty was dead. They'd shoot unless they saw me jump. So that's what I did.

Edited November 26, 2013 by shadow_claw

[pudding]

John was speechless for several moments until the mood turned sour again. "But three years!" he said, his arms not moving from his sides. Even now, he behaved as stiffly as the day he left the army. "Not a note, not a phone call. You could have done something to let me know you were alive!" He shook his head and turned away before zipping up his bag. "I think it would be for the best if I left. Obviously, we aren't seeing eye to eye on this problem and that is one less person you have to worry about getting shot next time. Because I know there will be a next time. There always is."

[shadow_claw]

You were safer if I remained the fake. That's that. Go ahead and leave. I already said my goodbye three years ago. And good luck on finding another flat. Sherlock stated. He turned and walked silently out of the room. This silence only lasted about three seconds until there was a crash. Sherlock had lost his balence walking down the steps and fell down the remainder lof them. Blood adorned the corner of the first step he hit. The former detective lay limpy at the foot of the steps, a fresh gash i his forehead leaking blood.

[pudding]

Immediately following the crash, there was a loud curse from upstairs, followed by John sprinting down them at high speeds. The sight that he saw was horribly familiar and made him pause for several moments. The same sprawled out position, the same blood. No, it was different. Sherlock was alive. The duffle bag was forgotten upstairs as he quickly crouched down next to Sherlock and examined his injuries. Large gash on head, possible concussion or skull fracture. , , . He quickly removed his jacket and pressed the cloth against the gash, trying to stop the bleeding. "Sherlock?" He asked, half-tempted to abandon all his training and slap the detective's cheek.

[shadow_claw]

Sherlock was dazed into silence at the impact of his fall. He stared up at John with in a mildly conscious manner. Even if he wasn't sick anymore, that didn't mean he was strong. An average man wouldn't be able to handle such a spill either. Damned stairs... his lips moved but scarcely a sound escaped them. Sherlock only managed to stay conscious enough for proper thought. He slipped into a sort of trance, his eyes half-lidded.

[pudding]

Oh, dammit. "Sherlock!" John yelled. No, no. He had to force himself to calm down. He was a doctor, he could handle this. But, of course he felt as though it was his fault. If only he had not insisted on leaving. If only he had been thankful Sherlock wasn't dead. He quickly stood and darted past the people currently gathered near the kitchen to grab a first aid-kit, then ran back over to Sherlock and set about patching up his injuries and trying to do what he could to get him back to normal. Or at least not dead. He couldn't die for real, right?

[shadow_claw]

((hm...what to do...?

 

I could play an NPC when The Master breaks out so we could have something to do until Chic posts a reaction.))

[chicbecause]

((I'M HERE!! Sorry, judt been busy.))

 

"Alright then, where to? Where would you like to go? Whole of time and space. Coffee shops, Slitheen, Nebulas. Practically anything you could ever want! Oh! Wait, that's right! You're going to Kansas... or wherever you live.... Somewhere American. Americanibalism. Oh, I like that! Americanibalism! Very catchy! That could become a thing, you know!" The Doctor rambled, as always. Completely oblivious to anything wrong with the pair and to busy setting the coordinates to 'Kansas'.

[pudding]

Castiel watched as John stumbled past them to grab a first aid kit, completely ignoring all of them. "Something is wrong," he muttered, tilting his head in the direction he had gone. Then, suddenly, his vision went dark again. But instead of seeing a man in a cell, the cell was empty, bloodied footsteps leading towards the door which was slightly ajar. The angel grimaced and rubbed the bridge of its nose, trying to disperse the images once more. "He's escaped. Of escaping. Or going to escape."

[shadow_claw]

Dean decided to investigate Castiel's claim. He peered outside of the TARDIS to see John crouched over a body. Wait...was that Sherlock? "He's right, something happened." He began to head out of the blue box when Cas spoke again. Things were just going from bad to worse, weren't they? "Cas, how are we supposed to find him? If he's really thatbig of a deal...he needs to be stopped as soon as possible."

[pudding]

"I am unsure of his location," the angel replied. "All I can see that he has been imprisoned in a dark cell." He blinked several times and shook his head. Finally, the visions faded from his view, leaving him back in the flat with the Doctor and Dean. "We should check to make sure everything is alright before we leave," he declared, stumbling away from the box and towards where John was crouched over Sherlock.

[shadow_claw]

Dean frowned, but nodded. Making sure everyone was alright was their top priority. He supported Castiel as he left the TARDIS and followed behind him. Sure enough, something had gone wrong. Sherlock was out cold on the floor with a pool of blood around his head and John was crouched over him, tending to the still-bleeding gash on the detective's face. "Dear God, what happened?"

[pudding]

John looked up from his work, a frown set on his features. "He fell," he muttered softly. Even if it was just down a flight of stairs, this felt way too similar to the fall. Here was Sherlock, broken once again in front of him. And he couldn't do anything about it! It was a feeling of total hopelessness.

"Let me see," Castiel said as he crouched down by Sherlock and placed two fingers on his forehead. He tried to focus on healing him, even as the images suddenly returned of the empty cell. Hopefully this would work. It was getting remarkable hard to focus with the drumming sound in his ears.

[shadow_claw]

For a few seconds, Sherlock was still out. But a slight discomofrt lead to distress as Castiel attrmpted to heal him. It wasn't the failed healing attempt as it was an accidental empathy link. He squirmed uncomfortably and made a small noise. That drumming...it was eerily familiar. Something about it he found incredibly disturbing. Sherlock's eyes cracked open and then spread wide when he realized he was being tended to. "John..." He started softly.