Superwholock

Supernatural - Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Supernatural

Sam paced the length of the room as the Doctor took the TARDIS to the sawmill. After Natasha left they decided they'd take it straight to where it needed to be. Everyone had calmed down, acting like the possible apocalypse wasn't a huge problem.

Dean was seated on the floor, leaning his back against the wall, with Cas mumbling to him, most likely about some pop culture reference he didn't understand. Sherlock stood with his arms folded, stood against the wall, his messy curls even more tousled than usual, with John sitting on the floor, his cane tossed to the side and the sleeves of his sweater pulled up to his elbows. They all looked exhausted.

Sam leaned forward on the console, putting his palms flat against the edge. He stared down at the many buttons, thinking about Natasha. What would she say right now?

"Alright," the Doctor spoke, snapping Sam from his thoughts. "We're at the sawmill. We should have until tomorrow to leave but I suggest we go now."

"Isn't your TARDIS in London?" Dean asked.

The Timelord nodded. "We're going to take the underground to Baker Street."

"I'm going to make sure I have everything," Sam muttered, pushing off of the dashboard and heading out of the room. He trudged down the hallway and pressed the green button on his door.

When he walked in, he collapsed on his bed, running his hands down his face and stifling a yawn. Sam had never felt so useless in his life. He wanted to be right by Natasha, helping her every second of the way, but instead he was forced to wait here like an idiot.

He rolled over on his side and his eyes landed on a book with a black cover and cracked spine resting on the bedside table. He sat up and stared at it, his eyes landing on the gold letters on the front of it. A Series of Stories by Edgar Allen Poe.

He picked it up, observing it carefully. It hadn't been there before...had it? Sam shrugged, opening it to a random page. As he did so, a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor and landed face down. A bookmark?

Sam bent down, taking the slip of paper between his fingers. He turned it over and his eyes widened.

Sam, it's Natasha. Everything is ready. Confirm the TARDIS is in place.

He looked back at the book, turning it over in his hands before reading over the note again. When did she write this? Where was this book from? Was it a sick joke Dean was playing on him?

But something told him it wasn't a joke. Sam opened the drawer of the bedside table and shuffled around through miscellaneous papers until he found a pad of sticky notes and a pen. He grabbed them before scribbling on the little piece of paper: Everything is ready.

As soon had he dotted the period the letters turned thick and bold. He stared down at the words with shock. They had changed right before his eyes. He slowly tucked the stick note into the same page he found the piece of paper in. Sam slapped the book closed, letting out a sigh. He tucked it under his armpit, searching around the room for anything else he might need.

Once he was confident he hadn't forgotten anything, he left the room, heading back down the hallway to meet the others. They were all standing up, waiting for him. "Sorry," he muttered, "I got distracted."

"By what?" Dean asked nonchalantly, picking at the nail of his index finger.

"By this," Sam replied, holding out the book for them to see. They all turned to him and stared at the cover with confused expressions.