Lost Between Worlds

How Are You Here?

I almost pass out again, but thankfully I have enough tact to shout, "Stop the cab!" Well. Maybe scream. At the top of my lungs.

At least enough to make the cabbie yell "bloody hell" and slam on the breaks.

I jump out of the cab and hit the ground running, with Sherlock on my heels. I'm definitely running faster than I ever have in my life. I could get used to this...

"John!" he yells, but I'm running like a madman and I can't seem to stop. I quickly duck behind a nearby trash can, panting, and Sherlock follows suit. "What are you thinking?" When I don't reply, he follows my line of sight.

"That car right there. The Impala. Do you see it?" I rub my eyes.

"Yes."

"Good. We're waiting here until two men come and-" I begin, but that's when I see them. One extremely tall with a plaid shirt, the other with a jacket and a proud walk. They're carrying coffees, one each. "Them."

"Americans?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"The car. And they look extremely lost in only the way Americans can."

"Great." I step out from behind the tree, and speed walk towards them. Once I'm close enough, I pull a confused look and ask, "Sir?"

"Yes?" Sam replies. I actually have to crane my neck just to see his face properly.

"Oh, sorry. You're not from here." I exaggerate my normal American accent, which comes to me surprisingly hard. "I was just wondering if you knew where the London Eye was. But never mind. Sorry to bother you!" That's when I hear Sherlock come up from behind me.

"John, I've been looking all over for you!" he says jovially, in a pretty good American accent. "And who are you two?" At this, the brothers exchange glances. I would place them at about seasons seven or eight, but maybe not.

"I'm Dan, and this is my brother, Phil." Dean extends his hand to both of us. Sam glares at him, but Dean just smiles.

"Worst one yet," I mumble under my breath. Dean and Sam look startled. Maybe not so under my breath.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam asks me.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. Nothing. Just thinking to myself." I'm usually pretty good at lying, but something seems to be holding me back, and I stutter a bit.

"No. You weren't." Dean turns stern and glances around at the other people around us. "What did you say?"

I stare right into his eyes, which only requires a bit of tilt now that he's leaned closer, and I whisper, "Castiel. Seen him recently?" His eyes change from a stern glare to a confused stare. He slowly returns to an upright position. Then he lunges at me.

He shoves me against the car, and it takes both Sam and Sherlock to pry him off me. I see people around us barely so much glance at us.

"Dean! What did he say?" Sam asks, but neither of us reply. I bush myself off and straighten my sweater. We stare each other dead in the eyes.

"Thank you. Alright. I promise I'm not a demon or anything like that." Dean raises an eyebrow at this. "I would be a lot more sarcastic and smart-ass right now if I were." Sam can't help but chuckle at this, but stops when Dean throws him a sharp look. "I'm going to bet you don't know how you got here, considering you have the Impala with you. That's a bit large to put in a plane as carry on. You have to trust me." Dean and Sam seem to have a full conversation with their eyes, then they look back at me.

"If you try anything..." Dean starts.

"Oh, believe me. I won't. Nor will Sherlock. Hell, I'm not even in my own body." The brothers start at this.

"Possession?" Sam says shakily, but with a concerned look on his face.

"That's what we need help with. I know for a fact I'm not dead or a demon, but here I am." I gesture to John's body.

"Great," Dean says, wiping at his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb, then pinching the bridge of his nose.

"So where do you want to go that's a bit more... Private?" Sam asks. I look to Sherlock, who stands a bit taller with pride.

"221b."