Your amazing guessing skills continue! One letter off the title once again, earning everyone a sneak peek at the continuation of Brothers Consulted with--
A Burglary at Baker Street
Dazed and bruised, Sam was operating wholly on instinct as he heard someone entering the flat. “You son of a bitch,” he slurred, weakly trying to push Mark’s arm from where it was braced to pin him down.
Instincts guided his other hand, and Sam’s fingers wrapped around a familiar hilt. One he’d always kept at his side, but never wielded against another person.
In a flash, Sam’s silver knife was at Mark’s throat, trying to force a stalemate.
“Let. Me. Go,” Sam said, his daze shaken off by the adrenaline that surged through his body.
Mark froze at the cool touch of sharp metal against his neck, but his arm remained firm against Sam. He'd had weapons pulled on him before, but he'd never let any of them get this close. Mark's breathing quickened, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes with every rumbling step ascending the staircase just outside the flat door.
"I-I can't," he whimpered.
He shoved his knee into Sam's stomach, releasing Sam's collar to jump away from the knife. Tucking his chin in close, he lunged again to land behind Sam, quickly grabbing hold of his arms and twisting them behind his back. His grip on Sam's knife-wielding wrist was firm, yet he hesitated to deprive him of it.
"Please stop fighting," he begged, whispering in Sam's ear as the human outside drew ever nearer. "I don't want to hurt you. He will."
Sam snarled, suddenly resembling Dean more than ever as he railed against the inevitable. Even if he escaped, he'd never get away before the human got there.
"Do whatever you want," Sam growled. "My answer's not gonna change. Let me go, you sonovabitch."
Trying to twist away, Sam found Mark's hold on him too strong. He needed another way out. His mind racing, his lips moved to shoot out more sass and keep Mark distracted.
"So, what is this?" Sam asked derisively. "You'd side with a human over your own kind? Sell us out-- For what? Some extra food? " He snorted. "You're no better than a pet." Sam slammed his head back on his last word, aiming to knock Mark out.
Mark flinched back to avoid that fate, unable to dodge a solid blow to the chin. His grip tightened as he reeled back against the books again, the machine attached to him digging sharply into his ribs. He rolled his jaw and winced at the pain blooming across it.
It still hurt less than Sam's words.
"I don't have a choice…" Mark's defensive protest trailed off as the door across the room swung open. If the human overheard him speaking out, Mark would really be in for it.
A tall man in a dark suit and tan wool coat stepped in, his light blond hair slicked back and his cold grey eyes glancing up from his phone to dart around the flat.
"Ma-ark…" he called in singsong.
