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Reality can be whatever I want

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“- I’M BORED, JOHN !”, yelled a voice coming from the apartment on 221B Baker street.

“- I KNOW !”, replied another voice, just as exasperated as the first one.

A loud gunshot echoed in the room.

“- CAN YOU, PLEASE, STOP PLAYING WITH THAT THING ?”, shouted an angry feminine voice.

“- Sorry, Mrs Hudson”, replied the second voice on a calmer tone.

This voice was belonging to Doctor John Watson, former army doctor and now roommate with Sherlock Holmes, sociopath and consulting detective during his spare time. Sherlock was currently holding a gun he had “borrowed” from John’s drawer and was looking in disdain at the hole the bullet had made in the wall of the apartment.

“- I’m getting RUSTY, John !”, he huffed in exasperation as he showed the hole next to the target he had pinned on the wall.

“- That’s not an excuse to SHOOT the walls !”, yelled Mrs Hudson, owner of the apartment, while Watson was rubbing his forehead.

The detective didn’t even bother replying. Sighing, he shoved the gun back into the drawer and sank into his chair.

“- I’m bored…”, he sighed. “Why do all the criminals have to stop committing crimes ? Life is boring without murders…”

“- You don’t actually mean that..”, scoffed John shooting a glare at his friend while Mrs Hudson was leaving the room, shaking her head in exasperation.

“- Maybe but I’m bored and I need a distraction…”

And at that specific moment, a bright light invaded the room, blinding the two men. A few seconds later, they heard a loud thud and someone cursing.

“- Dammit, what the hell ? Sam, you okay ? Cas ?”

“- We are fine, Dean”, replied another deeper voice while someone else grunted something incomprehensible.

Slowly the light started fading away and both John and Sherlock opened their mouth in disbelief as three men were now standing in front of them. Two of them had flannel shirts and jeans while the third one had a long trench coat and a suit. Swiftly, John grabbed his gun at the same time that two of the men took their gun out of their belt and the third one summoned a blade out of his sleeve.

“- Who the hell are you and why did you bring us here ?”, threatened one of the flannel man, who was also wearing a leather jacket.

“- What ? You were the ones who broke into our apartment !”, replied Watson, still brandishing his gun.

“- Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus…”, started reciting the other flannel man before getting interrupted.

“- Are you seriously performing an exorcism on us ?”, asked Sherlock with an incredulous smile on his face.

“- They are not demons…”, stated the third man. “ Let’s try the silver…”

“- Of course we are not demons, we are humans !”, declared John. “Hey, what the hell ?”

One of the men had pressed a silver cup on his hand before nodding to the other two.

“- Looks like they are humans…”

“- Of course, we are !”, insisted Watson as Sherlock started speaking.

“- You have done your deductions. My turn. You two are brothers. You are the overprotective one, always shielding him from an eventual threat, so I would say you are the big brother, even though he is way taller than you. Your eyes show me that you drink alcohol. A lot. Probably because you want to repress a childhood trauma… Let me guess, absent mother and drunk father ?”

“- Stop it…”, threatened the man in a leather jacket with a fierce look.

“- I’m not done. Your leather jacket is too big for you, probably belonged to your father, which means that despite his drinking issues, you want to look like him… You admire him… You are trained to fight, your posture shows that. You can use a gun… Did your father teach you that ?”

“- He told you to shut up !”, demanded the taller man.

“- Ah, the little brother… A bit more rebellious, tired of the big brother’s overprotectiveness… Used to fighting too… Used to be an addict…”

“- Stop. It.”

“- The last one”, continued Sherlock, pretending he didn’t hear anything. “Not your brother, but you are close to him. Interesting… I can see some abandonment issues in the way he stays close to you… And there is this little something… I don’t know what this is… You don’t trust yourself but your friends act as if you were extremely powerful… Even though you don’t look really powerful…”

“- Watch your mouth, you sonovabitch !”, yelled the big brother, pointing his gun at Sherlock’s face.

“- I will, if you show my mother some respect… Oh, and my last deduction: given your horrible accent, I’d say you are from America, Kansas more precisely. I’m Sherlock Holmes, this is John Wason. Nice to meet you, mister…?”

The three men looked at each other, completely lost and looking a bit afraid. The tallest one shrugged before saying to the other two:

“- I don’t know, guys… This whole thing feels so weird, but they don’t really look like a threat. Maybe they can help us figuring out what the hell is going on ?”

The two other men nodded before turning around.

“- I’m Dean Winchester. This is Sam Winchester, my little brother, and this is Castiel. He is an angel.”

“- You two are together ? I knew it !”, exclaimed Sherlock, clapping excitedly. “I didn’t say it out loud because you looked like you were going to kill me and you would probably have if I had been wrong about that…”

“- What ? Wait, no ! We are not together ! He is an angel. An actual angel.”, explained the man named Dean, looking mortified.

Hearing that, the detective stopped clapping and cocked his head, confused.

“- What ?”, interrogated John, still threatening the small group with his gun.

“- It’s true”, explained Castiel. “I’m an angel of the lord.”

“- There is no such things as angels…”, abruptly declared Holmes. “That, plus the fact that you thought we were demons, shows you three are clearly out of your minds…”

“- Show him, Cas…”, asked Dean. “Teleport yourself to the other side of the room.”

One second later, the man in a trench coat was gone. Turning their heads, Sherlock and John spotted him on the other side of the room, as unfazed as before.

“- This is a trick”, immediately declared Holmes. “It has to be a trick…”

“- Demons. Angels. Shapeshifters. All of this is real… At least in our universe…”, explained Sam quietly.

“- What do you mean, in your universe ?”, inquired John, still suspicious.

“- Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character in our universe…”, explained the tallest of the Winchesters, not daring to look at them directly.