Sherlock, Grab the Salt

Microsoft?

       The boys had no time to marvel at the estate's opulence when they arrived, as they were quickly ushered into a large study. Bookshelves covered most of the walls, with the spaces in-between containing a wide variety of objects that only a rich person would deem necessary. Nothing was out of place; it was all very immaculate. Sam seated himself in one of the two chairs that were placed in front of an elegant mahogany desk and watched with exasperation as his brother messed with things around the room.

       "Hey man, check this out." Dean said, grinning and holding what looked to be a real katana. Sam scowled and looked away as Dean pouted and put the sword back where it had been hanging on the wall. "You, sir, are absolutely no fun." Sam might have responded if not for the arrival of their client. The man who walked into the study was, to say the least, intimidating. He (strangely, as it wasn't raining) had an umbrella with him, and his eyes were cold and calculating as he scanned the room, taking in not just the brothers themselves but also lingering on the areas that Dean had tampered with. Dean cleared his throat and sat in the chair next to his brother as the man seated himself in the much larger chair behind the desk.

       "Well," he said fixing his eyes again on the brothers before him. "As you may not know, my name is Mycroft Holmes." Dean smothered a snicker at the name, and received a cold look in return. "I have heard from many sources that you two are well informed on things such as the, ah, supernatural." He said the last word as if he was irritated by having used it, and waited for Sam to nod in acknowledgement before continuing, 

       "There have been strange goings on in London, and it has come to my attention that the odds of human involvement are... slim. It is important is that this is resolved, so I expect progress soon." Dean exchanged a look with Sam and sighed as he realized that this was a case that would probably require more delicate work than usual. He bowed his head to study his nails as Sam was given a thin file, and was glad when Sam stood as if to leave.

       "I have arranged a flat for the duration of your stay. I'm sure you will find it acceptable." Mycroft said before the boys made their way to the door. "Oh, and I have one, very important condition. My brother, Sherlock Holmes, no matter how much he will inevitably pry, is to be kept in the dark. Is that clear?" Dean glanced at his own brother and nodded resolutely. If there was one thing he could find himself agreeing with Mycroft about, it was protecting family. The brothers were shown to another nondescript black car by the same woman who had answered the buzzer, and she seemed no more interested than she had before. As they pulled away from the estate and started down the long driveway, Sam opened the file he had received from Mycroft, flipping through it while Dean looked out of the window.

       "I don't trust that guy." Dean said without turning his head, unable to hide anymore his interest with the view. "He was the definition of a dude with a stick up his ass, and half the stuff he said made no sense. Like, why the hell would we meet his brother anyway?"

       "Dean, I get it, but we're here and we're getting paid. So what if the guy's a little weird?"

       "Whatever," Dean huffed and nodded to the open file. "What are we dealing with?"

       "Honestly, I can't tell. The victims seem to have nothing in common except age. Both 26, but lived on the opposite sides of London, and it says in the file they never met."

       "Same job? Dated the same person? Weird fetishes?" he asked. Sam shook his head again.

       "One was a librarian, the other a preacher, both men. Nothing would indicate any connection to the supernatural, besides maybe the preacher but he's clean." Sam sighed. "I just don't know yet. The pictures are okay, but we'd have to look at the bodies in person."

       "Great. A fun little field trip to the morgue then. Do we even have the right 'credentials' for this place?" Dean said, taking the file and skimming through it. His last question was answered as he found two government issued IDs at the back, and he took them out and waved them at Sam. Sam shrugged as he grabbed the one with his picture on it and examined it.

       "I haven't seen ones like this before, but they look really official. I'd guess that they'll get us into anywhere we need to go, morgue included."

       "Jesus," Dean said, "What else can Mycroft do? Never mind, doesn't matter, getting paid. Right." Sam didn't respond, and not long after the car pulled to a stop in front of an apartment building with the brothers' suitcases set by the door. The car pulled away as soon as they were standing on the pavement, so Sam just shrugged and went to get his suitcase, heading inside.

       Dean followed behind, pausing to sulk just for the sake of it. When he entered the building, Sam was already talking with a small old woman.

       "Hello dear!" She said when she saw him. "I was just explaining to your..." She broke off, looking between Dean and Sam.

       "Brother." Sam stated "This is my brother Dean."

       "Right." The lady continued. "Well, I was just explaining the rules. I'm Mrs. Hudson by the way." Dean gave a small smile and shook her hand. She smiled in return and gestured to a door that said 221C on it. "This is it! We just got it redone so everything should be in order. If you have any questions, my flat is just down the hall."

       "Thank you," Sam said politely. We won't be staying long."

       "That's quite all right dear. I'l leave you two to get settled." Mrs. Hudson replied, then disappeared into a door down the hall.

       "Well, I'm going to take a nap." Dean declared, entering the flat and setting his suitcase inside the first bedroom he could find. Sam put his things in the bedroom beside it and unpacked his suitcase. Before taking a nap himself, he took a quick look around the place and made sure the door was locked. Satisfied, Sam quickly fell asleep on top of his covers.