“Oh, I don’t think you’d be too shabby,” she put in encouragingly. “Even with your wings, there’s loads of places you could–”
A SLAM cut her sentence short and caused Bowman’s wings to flare out entirely as the Doctor burst back into the TARDIS, followed by him rushing around the console flipping switches and throwing levers on the way.
“Fell through the rift again,” he explained shortly, teeth clenched in concentration as he worked the controls. “Came pretty close this time, though! I think we can beat that time! Hang on to something, you two! Allons-y!” Bowman stared at him in confusion and shock.
Timeline: Before the first story, after the brothers move into 221B Baker Street
It was just another supply run.
There was no reason for either brother to think this morning would be any different from any other.
It was becoming their regular routine; wake up early, grab some food from the cabinets, keep an eye on Sherlock and John while they were up and about. Midafternoon to evening was a good time to catch some sleep with the humans at their most active, and during the night the brothers would pick through the main room of the flat, reading up on the materials Sherlock scattered about his latest cases and grabbing extra supplies for the supply room they were building across the fireplace from their home.
It had only been a week since officially moving in, but so far the schedule was holding out. There were a few hiccups along the way while learning and they had to have chosen the most erratic humans around, but the brothers remained hidden against all odds.
“Anythin?’ “ Dean hissed at Sam as he hesitantly pushed at the entrance into the cupboard.
Sam paused, his eyes unfocused as he concentrated on the strange knack he had. Without that ability, moving into this particular flat would be ill-advised. Between the two of them and their unusual abilities, it became worth the risk.
“Nothing,” Sam confirmed, and Dean climbed into the cupboard to begin their raid.
Timeline: Right after moving into 221B Baker Street
“Look out!”
Dean shoved Sam out of the way, his younger brother stumbling backwards from the unexpected danger. Moira yelped, grabbing Sam’s arm to haul him back, leaving Dean to face the threat on his own.
A cat.
Dean didn’t budge an inch, his silver knife in hand as he faced down the cat to give Sam and Moira time to escape. This was supposed to be a quick trip to grab some supplies, stock up Sam and Dean’s new home a few flats away from Moira’s family. They’d only had enough extra food for one meal, and having Moira’s help was welcome.
Of course, no one ever consulted them when getting a new pet, and not knowing that a cat now lived in the flat Moira’s family called home meant that they’d stumbled right into it.
“John,” Sherlock greeted, sparing a glance in his flatmate’s direction. That split second was more than enough for Sherlock to register the confusion, utter shock and disbelief fighting for attention on the doctor’s face as he stared.
At the sound of the second human coming into the room, Dean backed himself against the far wall of the jar. He pulled out his hook, wielding it as a backup weapon and knowing it wouldn’t do much if he needed to defend himself. That didn’t matter; if he was going down, he was going down fighting. There was no way to know how this human would react. The first one’s reaction was bad enough.
Sam could feel the weight of the gaze on him double in intensity, and he tried to make himself seem smaller. He put his hand on his own weapon, using the feeling of the hilt in his hand as an anchor. If they tried anything, he could defend himself. It didn’t matter if it was useless, it was better than being trapped in a beaker or a jar.
Dean jabbed his hook in Sherlock’s direction. “Just because we’re trapped like rejects from Land of the Giants doesn’t mean we’ll answer your questions like good little captives,” he growled, refusing to show any weakness in front of the new giant. “Now let my brother go.”
John blinked hard, trying to force the hallucination out of his sight. It had to be that, or Sherlock drugged his tea again… But no. One of the little figures spoke quite harshly to Sherlock. At the mention of a brother, John’s eyes darted to the large beaker. He’d almost missed the other person entirely, curled as he was into a ball of stress and fear.
“Oh God,” he breathed. These were people. Much smaller than average, but people all the same.
He walked numbly forward, a million questions flying around his head at once. The more pressing one stuck out just as he came to stand next to the seated detective.
“Sherlock, what have you done?” he demanded, his attention split between his sociopathic friend and his captives.
@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.
“Would I know if there was?” he replied amiably with a faint smirk. A hint of an Irish accent poked through his words, confirming Sherlock’s silent observation. Second generation, from the sound of it.
The circumstances in Hounds of Baskerville were a little different than in BC. When Sherlock has his big freak-out, he’s been drugged and is much more high-strung than he normally would be. Though, that’s not to say that he handles that topic perfectly.
Sherlock’s entire reality is built on science and logic, what he can see and feel and prove. He’d refuse to believe in the supernatural unless it was right in front of him. He can’t exactly deny the existence of the bitty bros, but he will struggle with the idea of witches and a curse. We’ll just have to wait and see if he runs into ghosts and vampires to gauge his reaction.
As an extra treat, here’s a sneak peek of Sherlock’s first impression of Stan!
Sherlock looked this man up and down, reading his entire life in a matter of seconds. Late twenties to early thirties. His complexion and facial structure suggested Irish descent, probably second or third generation. Traces of dog hair along his trouser leg, which was slightly rumpled in a rushed attempt to lint roll it away. That indicated there used to be a lot of it, hastily cleaned after being alerted to an out-of-the-blue mission. It was a German shepherd, easily identified by the coloration and amount of hair that used to be present.
This agent came from a military family, his attentive stance suggested that, but due to his longer, casual hairstyle and frankly soft and innocent eyes, it was doubtful he’d ever really served.
For good measure, Sherlock noticed a slight bump on the man’s sternum under his maroon button-down, one which he had a habit of smoothing down absently. It was important to him. The detective caught a glimpse of a silver chain peeking out under the agent’s collar, so it was a necklace, but upon reviewing the shape of the bump, Sherlock found that it was no pendant.
It was a ring. More specifically, it was a ring that would fit this man’s fourth finger. Considering the lengths to which the agent went to hide the ring from his likely traditionally-valued family and kept it hidden out of habit but close to this heart, Sherlock could only assume a secret engagement, presumably with another man since he was the recipient of the ring.
It took Sherlock less than half a minute to pick the man apart, and he didn’t even know his name.
“So you … do you live in here? Or is it just more like a … a car? I’ve heard of those.”
Zepheera looked up at Bowman and decided that this was a rather troublesome angle for conversation. She glanced around, finding a length of hose that connected the console to the ceiling somewhere. It ran right up the side of the monitor, and the ridges all along it would make scaling it a breeze. She strode over and answered Bowman as she climbed.
Borrowed Time and Space 