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consulting-timelords1-blog · 7 years

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The East Wind Brings Angels

Chapter Three

Sherlock Holmes was bored.

The wind was blowing to the east.

The temperature was twenty-five degrees celsius within 221B Baker Street.

Sherlock Holmes was bored.

To be fair- accurate- he was nearly always bored. There weren’t a lot of things that could keep a mind such as his occupied for long. A murder- yes, that would hold his attention. Unfortunately, things in London had been maddeningly- no, infuriatingly- quiet within the last few months. Of course, London wasn’t the only quiet place that frustrated him- after all, now even 221B Baker Street was maddeningly, infuriatingly silent. Devoid of life besides himself. Deserted. Quiet. Boring.

Sherlock had been on his own before, yet it had never bothered him as much as it did in that very moment.

Another shot rang out. The graffitied smiley-face on the wall gained another wound.

Another note rang out. The lines on his paper gained another A-flat.

Shot. Note. Shot, note. Shot, shot, note. Soon the sounds ran together, a symphony of chaos. Sherlock had always liked chaos, though not inside his head.

John had left. John wasn’t there, with him, in their shared flat. He had moved on, found a wife, was expecting a child. And there Sherlock was, in the flat that was now his alone, playing the violin and shooting a wall. Bored from the lack of chaos. Bored from the lack of murder. Bored from the lack of John, and all that came with him. He was lonely, and Sherlock Holmes didn’t get lonely. He didn’t have friends or family or anyone he cared about- except he did. And John was at the top of that list.

Funny, the revelations one can make about a person after they’re gone.

The air in the small sitting room was dusty and stale. So were the thoughts in his head.

He watched from his window as cars went by, as people passed, and the world went on. The people below were as easy to read as ever- foot fetish, diseased, alcoholic, divorced, dying- they all had their vices, their issues. They all had lives, and experiences, and worlds of their own. It had Sherlock wondering if they had ever felt the way he was feeling at the moment. He was hit by a strong feeling of wonder, of empathy, of sonder, just then.

These people. How happily, blissfully ignorant they were.

And how he wished that he could be the same.

Footsteps sounded. Only halfway listening, he murmured a quick, “Leave the biscuits on the table,” and went back to composing. This piece was happy, in major key and full of arpeggios, the opposite of how he was feeling.

“Well, I’ll let her know,” said Mrs. Hudson.

Wait...

No, that wasn’t Mrs. Hudson. The owner had referred to a her.

And the voice was masculine.

If Sherlock Holmes wasn’t as distracted as he was, he would have remembered that no one had really surprised him like that in a long time. At any rate, he managed to turn slowly on the spot in order to face the man. He tried to keep his face emotionless. Without thought, he tossed his gun aside, put his bow on his music stand, and stood precisely five feet away from him. Hands clasped behind his back, posture open. He would not look closed off.

Multiple deductions were made in the few seconds of silence that stretched between them. He had taken the tube, not a taxi. He had had cereal and room-temperature milk for his breakfast. He hadn’t been sleeping well, but had been eating better and had put on three pounds. He’d pet a dog on the way in, a big one, probably a golden retriever.

“Hello, John.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Not too long later, everything seemed back to normal. The two men were bantering pleasantly, ignoring the bigger issues that plagued them. Sherlock’s apparent death was still a sore subject between the two, so that was out of the question- he didn’t fancy being punched in the face again- but the topic needed to be broached at some point. He made a mental note of that, as well as getting some ice packs just in case.

“And you haven’t had a case in three weeks?” John asked, after a lull in the conversation.

“No, London’s been dreadfully boring lately,” Sherlock replied distastefully.

“And when you say boring, you mean there haven’t been any murders.” It wasn’t even a question.

“Exactly,” Sherlock replied, placing his steepled hands in front of his face in a characteristic gesture.

“D’you know how mad you-?” John began to ask, but they never found out what he was trying to convey because, at that moment, a sound pierced the air. Both men jolted, but it was Sherlock who sat up straighter. John, noticing this, asked, “What the bloody hell is that?”

But Sherlock only muttered to himself, “No… It can’t be…”

“Can’t be what?”

“But once you remove the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable,” his voice was growing in volume and intensity as he spoke, “must be the truth.”

He sprang from his seat.

“What’s the truth? Sherlock?”

“The Doctor has returned to Baker Street.”

#the east wind brings angels #superwholock #fanfic #chapter 3 #sherlock #john watson

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consulting-timelords1-blog · 7 years

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The East Wind Brings Angels

Chapter Two

A friend was someone who cared, loved, and protected you no matter what. The Doctor had two of these of people; Rose Tyler and Isolde Atwell, or ‘Izzy’ for short. They were two people that the Doctor would do anything for. For what seemed like forever, the Doctor, Rose, and Izzy would travel around the cosmos. Going back in time, or seeing the earth for what it would be a billion years from now, or even going to a different universe at some point. Along the way, trouble would rise, but it was nothing that they couldn’t handle. Nothing was unachievable when it came to this trio, and nothing was going to stop them.

The TARDIS was the home for the Doctor and his companions, but it wasn’t any ordinary home. The TARDIS could take you anywhere in space and time. It’s where they stayed, and where they belonged. Sure, they never really stayed in one place for long, but that was what made their lives amazing. Being able to travel anywhere they wanted; planet or moon, future or past, or even just floating through the stars. The people they met, the foods they ate, it all made every day different from the last. Meeting new people and saying goodbye wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but it was all worth it in the end. Traveling with the Doctor truly was the greatest gift the world could possibly offer.

“Well, that was very educational.” The Doctor said as he climbed into TARDIS with Rose, and Izzy following close behind.

“Easy for you to say,” Izzy retorted, exhausted, as she trudged her feet into the TARDIS and slamming the door behind her. “You're not the one who almost got burned at the stake!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that red hair was a sign of witchcraft?” The Doctor asked, trying to sound as if he was clueless.

“Love, the fact that you’re a 900-year-old Time Lord means you should know something about witch burning.” Rose joined in.

“Ay, since when are you are Izzy’s side?” The Doctor said as he pouted his face trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“Well, for once, she’s right.” Rose pointed out.

“Yeah!” She said, glad that Rose was siding with her before she registered the end of the sentence. “Wait- what?” Izzy asked, confused. Rose laughed and shook her head.

“C’mon, love, tell Izzy you're sorry,” Rose said, as if she was talking to a toddler.

“Hey! It’s not my fault you're a redhead.” The Doctor said, pointing to Izzy's hair. Izzy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as Rose giggled.

“I'm not a redhead,” Izzy said in a matter of fact tone, “for your information, it’s called strawberry-blonde.”

“In what possible way is a strawberry suppose to be blonde?” The Doctor shot back.

“I don’t bloody know, you're-” Izzy began to say, but cut short by Rose.

“Okay! Okay! Cut it out, you two,” Rose said as she walked in between them, “Both of you. Apologize. Now!” Rose said, glaring at both of them. Izzy and the Doctor stared at the ground as if they were just told off by their mother. Soon after a few uncomfortable moments of silence, a small noise was heard from Izzy. Rose turned her head to her friend in confusion as the noise quickly became more audible and recognizable. Rose confusion grew in volume as she listened to her best friend quickly become intoxicated with laughter. Rose spun her head around to the Doctor who had a small smile on his lips as they both listened to their friend's laughter.

“What’s going on? I don’t understand.” Rose asked with an uncomfortable laugh as the Doctor also joined in on the sudden outburst of laughter.

“Oh my lord! But did you see the look on the executioner's face when you barged up to the stake?” Izzy said with her face going red with laughter.

“The executioner's face?! You should've seen yours! You looked like you were going to pee yourself!” The Doctor exclaimed as he pointed to Izzy.

“I was!” Izzy corrected, still laughing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the bloody hell is going on?” Rose asked, still utterly confused, “I thought you guys were mad at each other?”

“Not anymore, evidently,” the Doctor said, looking at Rose. “Izzy, are we good?” The Doctor asked, looking past Rose to Izzy.

“Yeah, I guess so, no harm no foul, but I get to pick where we’re going next.” Izzy said, motioning to herself.

“Fine by me. You okay with that, Rose?” The Doctor asked looking at Rose who was still awestruck by the sudden mood change in between the Doctor and Izzy.

“You guys always do this,” Rose said, in a slightly annoyed voice as she rolled her eyes.

“And your lovey-dovey moments don’t bother me at all.” Izzy shot back in a sarcastic voice as she walked up to the control panel of the TARDIS.

“You two should've met one of my old friends. You could never tell what that man was going to do, or how he thought.” The Doctor said with a slight laugh.

“What old friend?” Izzy questioned, at the Doctor’s comment.

“Oh, er… I use to travel with him… long ago.”

“Oh my god, really?” Rose question.

“Yeah,” The Doctor said, smiling at the thought of his old friend, “but I don’t know if he would remember me, or even if he’s still living. It was quite a long time ago, to be honest.” The Doctor said losing his smile.

“Nonsense,” Izzy said at her friend’s ridiculous comment.

“Yeah,” Rose said joining in again, “No one could forget about you.”

“You’d be surprised.” The Doctor said tilting his head and shrugging. The conversation soon stopped at the Doctor’s last comment. Could someone really forget him? How was it even possible to forget about the man, after the adventures that might have happened?

“Well,” The Doctor said, cutting off the moment of silence, “No time to hang on to the past. Time for the future. Speaking of the future, Izzy! Where would you like to go? It could be anywhere; past, present, future?”

Izzy stood standing for a few moments, trying to think of an answer before one hit her.

“I wanna go visit your old friend,” Izzy said, smiling. The Doctor's smile quickly dropped when he heard her request.

“Are you sure, Izzy? We could literally go anywhere you-”

“I know,” She said, reassuring him, “and I want to go to visit your friend. You said I could go anywhere I like, and I wanna go there.” Izzy said, stern, with Rose nodding in agreement. The Doctor stood wearily for a moment before another smile moved across his face.

“You know what? Yeah, let’s do it! Rose, pull that lever! Izzy! Flip that switch! WE’RE GOING TO 221B BAKER STREET!”

#the east wind brings angels #superwholock #fanfic #chapter 2 #10th doctor #rose tyler

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consulting-timelords1-blog · 7 years

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The East Wind Brings Angels

Chapter One

Dean Winchester was not used to silence.

Sure, he’d stumbled his way through twelve years of public schooling, where the rule was generally silence, but he was always the one to break that rule, challenge the authority that bound those around him. He remembered scoffing at their obedience, their fear of being reprimanded by parents and teachers alike. There they were, dreading a bad report card or missing a party, when he was facing real danger. He fought to keep them safe. That fighting generally required loud noise, gunshots and screaming and the sound of fist hitting flesh.

Thus, Dean Winchester was not used to silence.

To be fair, it wasn’t complete silence that he sat in. Every now and then he could hear the turning of a page or a sigh from the moose- his brother, Sammy- in front of him. The hum of the bunker’s electricity was also audible, albeit annoying. Letting out a slight groan, he sat back in his chair, glancing around the library as he did so. The atmosphere was quiet and sleepy, which- for some odd reason- frustrated him to no end. He shifted, cracking his knuckles, turning his head to relieve the crick in it, and rubbed his eyes. He let out numerous sighs. He did everything but what he was supposed to be doing.

Finally, Sam had had enough. He slapped his book closed and looked up at his older brother. “Dean, for god’s sake, what?”

“I’m-” he began.

“Bored, yes, I know. You’ve said so half a dozen times already. But you being bored isn’t going to help us find this monster, and it especially isn’t going to help us find Metatron.” Sam rebuked.

“Yeah, but it sure as hell makes things interesting.” Dean retorted.

“We don’t need interesting right now, Dean. We’ve got enough of that. What we need is to figure out what kind of monster we’re hunting, for one, cause honestly, I have no idea.” The taller hunter rubbed his face wearily, looking exasperated. “We’ve got people disappearing left and right, and no idea how. Is this really the best time to take a break?”

“And we’ve gotten so far like this? C’mon, Sammy, this isn’t working and you know it. We better leave it be for a bit, attack it with fresh eyes, ya know, tomorrow. We’re no use like this.” He cajoled.

“But we-”

“But nothing, Sammy. There’s nothing for us to do. How about a beer?” Dismissing his brother and the stick up his ass, Dean got up to go to the fridge, checking his watch as he went. “Crap.”

“What?” Sam called, “Are we out?”

“No, I just- I missed something I wanted to see.” He called back, opening the refrigerator door and extracting two beers.

“What, on TV?”

“No, outside. The space station was supposed to pass overhead an hour ago.” He answered as he handed his brother the alcoholic beverage and sat.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said, realization dawning as he twisted the cap off his bottle. “You were a real space nut when you were a kid, weren’t you?”

“Well, you’ve gotta admit, it’d be pretty damn awesome to live on a spaceship.” He replied, a little defensively, “Think, Sammy; no monsters, just lots of beer and girls, surrounded by stars… it’s perfect.”

“Okay, Kirk.” Sam laughed.

“Shut your face, you know it would be.”

“I doubt you’d be able to convince some girl to drop everything and go to space with you.” Sam scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, if not, there’s always alien chicks, right?” Dean said, a slight smirk gracing his face, but he didn’t get to find out what Sam thought about that particular gem. Instead, their conversation was interrupted by a flutter of wings, accompanied by a certain angel in a trench coat.

“Cas, hey,” Dean acknowledged, nodding to him.

“Hello, Dean,” He nodded, “Sam.”

“Hey, how are you?” Sam asked, sitting up where he had previously been reclining.

“I’m well, and you?” Castiel was stiff in his niceties, as always. Either way, Dean found his presence refreshing. It was always good to see him.

“We’re alright,” Dean replied, “What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s up, relative to the ground, of course, but I have some news on Metatron.” He replied, tilting his head slightly.

Sam and Dean instantly sat up straighter.

“He’s been spotted in Seattle. I don’t know what he was doing there, but he’s back. On the grid, as you’d put it.” He inclined his head toward Sam, “He hasn’t sent any messages over angel radio, but I’m listening.”

“But he’s not in Seattle anymore?” Sam asked.

“No. Unfortunately, by the time the information got to me, he was gone.”

“So he’s off the grid again. Fan-friggin-tastic.” Dean groaned.

“I’ll keep looking,” Cas said, by way of salutation, but Dean quickly stopped him.

“Hang on, Cas, I got a question.”

“Yes?” The angel turned at that, looking him directly in the eye in that slightly unnerving way of his. Dean was not deterred.

“Would you ever bang an alien?” Dean asked as a sly smirk curled his lips.

“Dude, no. Seriously?” Sam interjected, watching Cas flounder.

“How ‘bout you, Cas? You ever do a little cloud-seeding with an extra-terrestrial?” Dean asked him, ignoring his brother in favor of making his angel uncomfortable.

“I don’t know why you’d even insinuate-” He began, looking confused and slightly affronted.

“C’mon, Cas, ain’t you ever seen Roswell?”

“Roswell? No, I don’t know anybody of the name of Roswell.”

“No, Cas, it’s- nevermind.” He forwent the reference in favor of more questioning. “Seriously, though, you’re telling me you’d never fuck an alien? No matter how hot they were?”

“Dean, stop,” said Sam.

“No, Sammy, I’m curious. Tell me, Cas; would you bang an alien?”

“I suppose if the opportunity arose, I might-”

“Hell yeah! See, Sammy? Cas would bang an alien.” Dean pumped his fist triumphantly. His head was tilted back in a laugh, one that his brother was starting to mimic. It was these rare, light-hearted moments that kept them going.

Cas was tilting his head again, a small smile on his face as he watched Sam start to join in on the laughter. Dean knew that Cas cared about the two of them, no matter how dysfunctional their relationship could be. He knew that the angel, despite how aloof he might seem at times, wanted to see him and his brother happy. He was a great friend, Dean thought as he stood to go and get Cas a beer, Sammy pulling out a chair for the celestial being as he did so.

He truly, truly was.

#superwholock #fanfic #chapter 1 #the east wind brings angels #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #season 9

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