"Relax sweetcakes, me and my brother here we have ribs that are hiding us, okay? And the car has enochian shit that stops angels coming in too. We've got the windows lined with salt. This here is the safest place you could be." Dean drawled, assuringly confident.

"Then how is he here?"

Dean looked at Sherlock uncomprehendingly for a full three seconds then swore.
"Sam- get the Colt. Cas, we need new sigils up and running, asap."

"Dean?"

"I was giving Cas a ride a few days ago so I wiped off the sigils and I never put them back up."

"Dean, that was unwise," Cas said sternly.

"I didn't see you complaining!"

"I presumed the sigils were no longer effective due to my decreasing connection to heaven."

The ensuing silence is broken by a flurry of movements; sharpies squeaking out sigils, Dean rechecking the salt line furiously, and Sherlock's blatant disapproval, which seems to have its own snarling presence in the car.

They shot Sherlock point blank and he got back up again.
Colt didn't do jack shit these days.

"Your weapon is functioning Dean, but heaven will keep resurrecting me. It's a futile, albeit cathartic exercise."

"You plan on saying yes if they keep threatening to torture John?"

"Always"

"Fine then," and Dean turned and shot John in the face.

"Agents Smith and Jones, it's a pleasure. Please, call me Carlos."

"Well, erm, Carlos, can you fill us in on what's happening here?"

The scientist ran his hands through his long dark hair. It was extraordinary, considering his line of work, that it wasn't under a hair net.

"I'm not qualified for this at all. I've got degrees in physics and chemistry, but I'm no doctor. The people here though, they call me Carlos the Scientist and expect me to have all the answers. So, okay, I'm no expert on cadavers, but.."

"It's okay, just tell us what happened."

Dean spoke to Cas on the phone a while later.
"Okay so it's definitely a demon job. And you say Cecil is a prophet? Explains how he knows so much. Yeah, you go check that out and-"

Dean stops, because Carlos has grabbed a needle and is holding it to Sam's neck.

"Look, I don't know what you want, but leave Cecil out of it, okay? I'm sick of people from vague yet threatening government agency pulling this crap.
Now you tell your buddy to leave Cecil alone, or I inject your partner."

Dean looks at Sam, who looks as bewildered as he feels, and then speaks into the phone.
"Cas, did you get that?"

"Of course Dean. Can you handle it or-"

"No now Cas"

And he hangs up and looks pointedly at Carlos, who immediately drops the needle.

"I'm sorry man. It was only water anyway, I just, I mean, not Cecil"

Sam expects Dean to be pissed, but he goes to Carlos instead and slaps a hand on his back.

"It's all good man. No harm done. We all get a little... protective at times."

Weird, Sam thinks. Very weird.

"Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

"Will you pick up this guy, he's from 221B Baker Street, England. Name 's John Watson."

Silence at the the other end of the line. Sherlock wonders how they propose to 'get' John, when he's in the UK and they're clearly somewhere in America.

"He shouldn't be taking this long" Dean mutters.

And then there's no way to explain it other than that two men simply appear in the car, filling vacant space.
The first man wears a tan trench coat. He holds a burger and a salad under one arm.

"I'm sorry I was delayed, but I brought food, you haven't eaten in hours."

"Thanks Cas" the brothers say, but Sherlock pays very little attention to that mundane exchange, because the second man is John.

John is tense, rigid, and yes, this is no time for sentimentality.
Direct questions. "John, how long was I out?"

John stares at him. "Almost two years."

"Any clue how I'm back?"

"None"

And that's it then, the big reunion, because there seems to be too much to say and it's -

The Doctor gestures broadly. "This is the TARDIS. It's bigger on the inside."

Harry shrugs. "So's Hermione's handbag."

"Okay, but I can travel through time and space."

"A glorified time turner. Space, on the other hand-"

"DO YOU HAVE A ROCKET SHIP POTTER?" Draco appears suddenly, eyes wild.

"Dammit Draco!"

Dean nearly shoots the kid, reflex. He puts his gun away again, uneasy.

Sam gets Sherlock in the heart with a stake, adm he doesn't react much.
"Was that truly necessary?"

Dean exchanges a look with Sam. They back away a little.

"Yeah so someone must've cut a deal with a demon and a reaper or something. That's what's bringing the dead back." Sam summarised.

"No, they're Inferi, or someone's got the resurrection stone working-" Hermione corrected.

"Maybe someone with a time machine grabbed them the moment before they died and brought them here?"

Everyone looks at the Doctor.

"Oh, so time travel is a ridiculous possibility? I literally have a time machine and it's still not a feasible option?"

Sam shrugs and scrawls down time travel.

Gunshot in the background. Sherlock has tried to kill himself again.

"You mean Lucifer as in Satan, the devil, Beelzebub himself?"

"Yeah, he wants to get in your pants. Well, your meat suit to be more specific, but I'd say you deduced that all by yourself."

"Mr Holmes, it was a pleasure, I am so sorry."

"Oh Doctor, I'm not the first you've lost and I won't be the last. Safe travels."

They shake hands, and the Doctor leaves, the sound of the TARDIS filing the silence.

"Well Sherly, it's been fun, but we gotta go. You're a shoo-in for upstairs though, don't sweat it."

"Goodbye Dean."

Dean nods and gets into the Impala. Sherlock turns to Sam and says,

"Sam Winchester, it's been an honour. Please do keep researching, you're rather good at it."

Sam smiles sadly, and hands the Colt to John.

"So, we'll meet you in Arby's after John, to get that back. And um, if you need anything after, you know, you just call okay? We'll be there."

John looks at Sam and nods. He doesn't seem to be able to say anything.
Sam accepts that that's all he's going to get, and gets into the passenger seat. Him and Dean drive back into town. God knows how far away the Doctor is.

It's just him and Sherlock, who smiles.

John finally speaks.
"You look like him, you think like him, but you're not. You're not the same man, and this- this has to be done."

Sherlock keeps smiling.
"I understand John. Goodbye."

John fires the Colt and it marks Sherlock right between the eyes and blows the back of his head off.
The body doesn't disappear into black smoke or shatter. It falls slowly like any real human body, and when it hits the sand the thump is real.
Dark red blood slowly seeps into the ground. This time he is truly dead.

John begins to walk into town. His hands don't shake.