The Dragon At Knights Inn ~~ Chapter 12 part 1

Chapter Twelve:
It's Just Outside Of Your Front Door



They creep forward, sure that Dean wouldn't resort to shooting the walls, even if he was stressed waiting for Sam and Oscar's return. Bobby said they had a chat, maybe he did this before they talked? Since Sam took point last time, Dean took the lead this time, tall enough to reach his head up and see out of the closest eye hole. A crowded, cluttered, and mismatched living room was on the other side. Chairs that were next to a fireplace on the opposite wall with a tower of books and things near the squat squarish leather chair on the right side, and a rounded more comfortable fabric chair with a laptop sitting on a small table next to it on the left. On the wall to their right were two tall windows separated with a bit of wall with a bull's skull hanging there in lieu of traditional artwork, and it was wearing headphones. The desk was littered with papers and books and newspaper clippings. Everywhere he looked was clutter, but the floor was, for the most part, clear.
No one seemed to be home at the moment, and there was really no hint who this place belonged to. Dean turned to his left and could just barely see a dining room and kitchen beyond. The scent of tea heavy in the air, as if it was made hourly. On the table were more newspapers littered about and other things he couldn't see clearly. He risked sticking his head out through the hole, just managing to get his eyes and ears out without scraping or hurting himself, and he pushed against the edges of the hole to make it wider, bits of white plaster fell down onto a couch below, but he could see the whole area much better now. It was a functioning clutter-pile. Dean startled when he heard a door open and shut and the sounds of someone stomping into the living area. He tried to jerk his head back out of the hole but his side fan ears were caught on the edges.
Sam heard the human and was right there, trying to stick his fingers out of the hole as well to push/pull the ears back against Dean's head so he could back out of the hole again, but by then the human was in the room and they all stopped moving. Still as statues. Hoping against hope that the human would not take that look upwards at them. Oscar was crouched down at one of the lower holes forming the smile and saw a tall man with near black curled hair in a bathrobe. He was holding a harpoon and casting his gaze about the place with a thoughtful frown on his face. Standing still and listening just as they were.
One of Dean's wings slipped from his grip on the inside of the wall and made a scraping sound before he could curl in his wing thumb. The man's gaze shot right at them. Pausing. Dean's eyes went wide. The wall provided some form of pattern disruption due to the wide printed wallpaper, but sadly, he was not black and white like the pattern. And his brown and tan face was spotted a second after.
“Fuck.” Dean muttered. Twisting and turning his head to pull it back out but stuck fast. Sam yelped when his fingers were pinched and that just made the man even more interested. Putting down the harpoon, he reached for something that was on the messy desk nearby. A hammer. Who the hell keeps a damned hammer on their desk?! Ready to go?
Dean was thrashing now, pushing Sam and Oscar away from himself as best he could without actually seeing them. The man wielded the hammer and approached slowly, critically.
“What kind of rat is this?” He said in a low gravely voice from across the room. Too far to see details. “Hairless...Mange? Strange skin flaps... some sort of disfigurement. Nose is wrong. Not a rat. Nor mammalian at all. Snake perhaps?” Closing in on Dean's head with the hammer held up and aimed at him.
Dean forced himself to push his head forward then fold his ears back and pulled back hard, hitting his cheeks several times but by then, the short spikes that border his cheeks were hurting his chances of escape worse then his side fans. “Fucking fuck!” Dean cussed, feeling nothing but pain from behind his ears as he pushed against the inside of the walls, plaster falling down at the spikes insistent scraping. He was coming loose!
The man's eyes went wider. “It talks.” He whispered in awed intrigue. Hammer wavering in the air.
Dean paused in his thrashing to address the man directly. “This is not some whack-a-mole game! Put the hammer down.” Dean shouted and moved his hands to the lower part of the hole, scratching at it to widen it that way now that the human was staring at him instead of using that hammer. He was nearly free when he saw some movement coming out of the shadows on the floor.
The smaller man came out and looked up at the black haired giant. “Sherlock.” He shouted up, sounding tired and annoyed. “Wanna keep it down? Some of us were sleeping.”
Dean looked down and said, “Oh, come on!” He rolled his eyes before returning to freeing his head while glaring at this tall human. This guy's name is apparently Sherlock. Dean thought that there was no way in hell that he just ran into the famous detective from those old books. What were the odds that Sherlock just so happened to meet the Winchesters in whatever world this was? He did not seem to realize that he's supposed to be a fictional character. Of course, dragons aren't supposed to exist either, even in his own world they were considered to be a fairy-tale, that is, up until he got himself turned into one. Perhaps that writer dude actually knew a Sherlock? But then, he'd be a hundred years old right? Ok, so Sherlock was a real person, and in this world, he's in the present day, more or less, going by the flat screen TV behind the rounded chair.
Dean's musings were interrupted when another short person came out after the newly woken Dean, punching his shoulder to get his attention. Yup, there's Sam.
Oscar was still looking out of one of the holes but far enough back to not be seen. Sam caught glimpses of the room beyond as he pulled at the plaster, Dean kept still while the small hands worked around his throat. Sam couldn't use the silver knife to cut him out because if he touched Dean then his skin would burn. He had a broken butt end of a matchstick and was using the fairly sharp edge to scrape out chunks of the plaster instead of wearing it down at the edges closest to Dean's neck. The difference between rubbing it away, and chopping it up.
Sherlock turned from the wall and knelt down to the two on the floor. “It would appear we have a new species of rodent snake hybrid animal living in our walls. Would you like to get a closer look? Help me determine why its voice sounds just like yours?” His hand lowered and the brothers looked at each other before shrugging and climbing aboard. Sherlock then held them up high enough and Dean glowered at the lot of them. Like he was an exhibit on show at a gallery. Or, more likely, a mounted head on a wall just like that bull's head over there. If he'd gotten his horns through, it would be closer in appearance.
“Dude, that's not a rat. Some kind of lizard?” Dean said, leaning forward after holding tight to the thumb nearby.
Dean wriggled his head against the hole again. “Dragon. Draaa-goonn. Not lizard. I don't do that tongue thing.” He emphasized and flicked out his forked tongue.
“Obviously not a normal thing one finds inside walls then. Correct?” Sherlock flicked a grin upwards.
Using the thumb, Dean pushed himself back to the middle to look up at the human's face. “No shit, Sherlock.”
Sam helped Dean stay stable on the hand as he leaned forward next, “Where did you come from?” Sam addressed the dragon directly.
“Narnia. Does it matter? Not staying long enough to have tea and cookies.” Dean grouched and felt part of the hole give way, Sam pat his neck to let him know he's safe to pull his head back into the walls. “Taataa!” Dean said and ducked inside, shaking his head like a dog to rid himself of all the itchy plaster dust between his scales. Picking a direction to head down, they went running as fast as they could down the uneven wooden supports. Scrambling to get lower to the ground. Sam and Oscar were right behind him as he cleared the way of spiderwebs. Some of the paths were well worn so it was obvious that those pair of brothers did live inside the walls instead of being that man's pets. Some bit of comfort.
From what little they observed of the interaction, at least they were respectful of each other. Those brother's did not need saving. Dean saw two shapes ahead appear around a corner, both holding up silver knives at the ready. “Fuuuck.” Dean hunched down into attack mode, similar to when he had to go after that rat. His wings flaring in the tight space to keep the others hidden behind him. There was no point letting these brothers know they were there to be captured or fought as well. “Just let me go.” Dean growled.
“You came into our house.” The other Dean pointed out.
“It was a mistake. Leaving now.” Dean said and started to back up when the brothers advanced. He heard Sam and Oscar searching for an alternate way out and pat his tail, letting him know it's close. He growled loudly at the brothers who stopped and held up the knives higher. Dean winced at the threat. His skin was strong, but vulnerable to not only silver, but sharp knives and swords. The trade off for having fireproof skin that's near bludgeon proof with how it disperses a punches energy. Nothing is perfect.
Dean dove his head forward to clack his fangs loudly in front of the two, missing on purpose and glad that they did as he hoped and stumbled back to keep from being bitten. He then spun around and bullied the small hatch that Sam and Oscar found as an escape route. An ancient electrical outlet that had been shoddily covered up to keep rats out. The thin wooden panel was no match for Dean's strength as he rammed his head and chest against it while kicking off of the opposite wall for even more force. It gave out instantly and he found himself not in another world, but the Same damned living room he saw from the holes above. This wasn't a real exit. Sam and Oscar were right on his heels but they too saw that they didn't actually escape. They had just made it easier to be caught.
Sherlock was there and waiting with a wire waste basket and dropped it over top of the three of them. The ground shook with the deafening slam making them tumble over. Three sets of terrified eyes were looking up at the cage all around them. There was no escaping this. Not even a door or lock to pick. Evidently not all of the trash was removed first because a couple of used nicotine patches and old gum still stuck to the bottom of the trash basket above their heads. Making them feel just that much more humiliated.
Sam and Dean exited the hole soon after and looked up at the upturned waste basket that Sherlock was still holding down with both hands, his weight pushing it into the rug below. Sam took in the sight and implications of it and was trembling slightly. His breath hitched. Dean pat his brother's back and said something just barely loud enough for Dean to hear, “It's ok, Sammy. It's not our cage.”
“Dean.” Sam pointed to the other Sam who was standing in front of Oscar, keeping the smallest borrower from seeing this nightmare. His brother narrowed his gaze and gaped at the other Sam. It wasn't just the dragon in the wall, he was keeping these two hostage.
“Sherlock!” Dean shouted up, running around the waste basket to see him better. “Dude! Let those people out!” Waving his hands above his head. “There's people in there!”
Sherlock turned to the side to see that indeed, there were. “Are you sure they're people? Sam, do you have a twin we don't know about?”
Sam couldn't answer. Trembling like mad, memories flashing before his eyes and a panic attack on the way.
The dragon turned to face his Sam and Oscar. Giving a pained expression before firming it into resolve. He then nose bumped Sam and Oscar, winking at them before he faced the human, stepping closer to see past the numerous wire bars. Dean growled low in his throat, puffed up his wings and angled all of his claws downwards to look more threatening. In a ravenous voice, he called up, “You can't have my food!” Circling around his stunned friends. Snapping at the air around them to sell the idea that he eats people. There was no telling if this was the Same Sherlock that he'd heard about from the books and movies, the one that has no problem beating corpses and is generally callous to the world at large save for his select few friends. It didn't matter, Dean had a responsibility. Make sure Sam and Oscar are safe. If he had to sacrifice himself? So be it. Earlier, the man held up a damned hammer, poised to attack. The detective was no stranger to violence. He never wanted anything bad to happen to these guys.
The ploy almost worked. The other Sam was running towards the basket, grabbing and trying to lift it up by himself. “Let them out! Sherlock!” Sam was frantic. Sherlock lifted his hands away from the bottom of it, and Sam was turning red in the face trying to lift the huge thing. Not even managing to budge it. Dean stepped next to his brother and tried lifting as well while the dragon circled around again, snapping at the air and growling.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the display and he settled his hand back onto the bottom. The brothers looked up in shock and dismay. “No.” the human said.
“What?!” Sam let go of the wires and stormed over to Sherlock's looming body. “You heard it! It's going to eat them!”
“No, it isn't. If it were, it would have done it already. Judging by the posturing and fake snaps and growls, it's putting on a show. It wants you to think that it's dangerous. If it were, and these two borrowers were in real fear of their lives, they would not have followed it out of the hole. They would have escaped the second the beast got his head stuck.” Sherlock crouched down further and stared hard at the dragon. Eyes darting all around the body. “What an interesting case.”
Dean stared into the basket where the dragon was still standing, wings up and intimidating as hell, but now that he was really looking, the other Sam and that short guy weren't nearly as scared of the monster as they should be, being so close. Definitely within biting distance. They should have been climbing the walls to get away. Hell, now the more he watches, the more the small guy looks like he'd like nothing better to do then to take refuge underneath the damned thing. Instead of being afraid of the dragon, they were obviously more worried about the fact that they were in a cage, and no one could blame them for that.
Sherlock continued with his clinical observations. As he spoke, he flicked open his magnifier that he just so happened to have nearby. Dean knew that it was no coincidence, the detective probably slept with that thing in his boxers. “The dragon is speaking rather fluently in a tone that sounds remarkably like American dialect. Yours to be specific.” He indicated Dean with a pointed look before lifting up the magnifier to the dragon's face as it continuously growled at him. “Green eyes, while not strange in itself, but coupled with the fact that it has freckles and a companion that looks, sounds and probably is your brother, leads me to believe that this is another set of you both. Plus one.” Sherlock quickly pointed at Oscar with his pinky finger. “Did you two have a third brother?”
“No.” Dean said, but everything Sherlock was saying was starting to make sense. “I don't know that little dude.”
“Hmm.” Sherlock wanted to observe the smallest one but he was constantly being blocked from view. Finally when the dragon wrapped his wing around him wholly once it was clear what Sherlock wanted. The human frowned and was itching to lift up the basket and pull them out, study them properly.
“Over my dead body.” Dean hissed at the human, scenting his intentions. The spikes along his neck raised up in a wave as he angled his spine like a cats. Showing off what he has for defenses even if it's not nearly enough against an enemy as large as this.
“It wont come to that.” Sherlock finally addressed Dean directly. “After the time I had spent with these two,” He placed two fingers on the floor close to the brothers, “I've been observing inalienable facts. Sam and Dean will always protect those that cannot protect themselves. They will fight against all odds against evil. Saving people by helping me catch killers.”
What that statement meant to the ones inside the basket was a mystery. Did the human mean that he was going to keep them caged for the good of his dear friends? Or let them go because he believed that since they were a different Sam and Dean, they too would be decent, innocent. Useful? Worth a closer look.
Sherlock abruptly stood up and went across the room to retrieve a large book, the purpose of which made itself clear when he opened it, only needing the hard cover lid as he tilted one side of the basket up just high enough to let the cover in underneath, sliding it closer and closer to them.
Sam caught on faster then Dean as he backed up to the other side where there was still floor. Dean was too large and ended up stumbling onto the cover as it stopped halfway in, and suddenly the basket itself was being pulled onto the cover next. Sam and Oscar pushed with all their might against the encroaching cage and Dean turned too to push with his forelegs, claws digging into the wire mesh but they had no choice but to follow it along. The human was much stronger then them so they didn't have a choice.
Nearby, Dean stood by Sam and comforted his brother, he too was having terrible flashbacks to being caught and trapped in cages. Their trust in Sherlock was the only thing keeping them from attacking the human outright. It didn't erase the past they experienced when they were first cursed as children. Treated like animals, pets. Every time they spoke they went ignored or the humans thought that they were no better then some parrots, repeating things they'd heard. Not really intelligent. Just small frightened animals.
They started the trek home to do some research of their own, see if any of their old journal scraps had anything to do with dragons or Shapeshifters beyond the fact that silver burns Shifters. John Watson had gotten them books on the supernatural to refresh their memories, crossing off what was true and false and rewriting it in their own scraps of paper. There were hundreds of kinds of monsters out there, and since they hadn't hunted at all since being cursed at 10 and 14 years old, they did not remember every little detail off the bat. There might be something that can help them figure this out back at their home behind the bookshelf. Sherlock should be able to handle those guys for now. Sam and Dean wanted to help, but, it was more important they find out what they could be. And if they're dangerous, how to deal with them. They knew their gigantic flatmate could come across as emotionless as a robot or egocentric. Neither would be taken well by his captives, so just before disappearing, Dean shouted up to him, “Behave.” It was something that John would have said, and got a wink back in return. Dean followed Sam back towards the walls to do the research.
The three inside the makeshift cage were being lifted up by Sherlock and brought into the kitchen, before being lowered down to the tabletop. Sherlock pulled out a chair and sat down in front of the wire cage. Watching.
Dean regained his balance after that trip and immediately wrapped Oscar up again in his wing. Blocking the disturbing views all around and giving tactile reassurances. Now that they were closer, Dean could smell a huge assortment of chemicals, dead flesh, and dried blood. Looking around was a mixture of science lab with human remains. A human's severed foot rested on the counter with naught but a hand towel underneath to keep the various juices from spreading. It turned his stomach, and thankfully, neither of his companions had noticed the gory details around them, focusing instead on Sherlock who was leaning forward, fingers peeked and pressed together, eyes trained on them in the most unnerving way.
Dean knew all about 'scientists'. This detective had to know a fair bit of different fields of science to do his job. Since he called this kidnapping a 'case', something that needed to be studied and solved, Dean knew that he wasn't going to make it out of this in once piece. Everyone literally wanted a piece of him... And they got it. Literally. What's one more slice and dice session? He forced himself to take deep breaths, calming his heart rate. He unfurled his wing just enough to see Oz inside. He was holding his hands to his ears, eyes shut tight and head tucked between his knees. Sam was inspecting his surroundings, already planning their escape once the human's attention was elsewhere. He'd never make it to the wall. It didn't stop him from trying.
Dean let out a long breath before saying, “You have me. Do whatever you want with me. Let them go home. You don't need them.”
Sherlock didn't seem surprised in the least to hear that. “Very well, I'll take you. Of course, since I know for a fact that there cannot be two Sam's existing in one moment in time, due to the paradox theory, I will have to examine your partners as well to get down to the bottom of this. I cannot allow monsters to go roaming about, causing mischief. Needs must, I will find out your secrets.” Sherlock said coldly and let that sink in for just a moment. He stood from the table and brought over a heavy book on bird migrations to sit on top of the basket to weigh it down.
Once Sherlock was out of the room, Dean immediately started pushing at the curved wire walls, hoping that he could budge it to the edge of the table so the others could climb down using Sam's hook and line. Any further and the book and basket could fall, injuring or killing them all. Sam did not know that Dean was never intending on escaping with them, as he helped shove at the wall. Oscar came to help push soon after, once he got his head back on straight. Now that the human was gone, he found some courage. If they didn't try now, they'd be killed. Tears sprung from his eyes but he bit his lower lip, putting all of that fear into this last desperate act to escape.
Sherlock was gathering and sorting the various tools he needed. The sounds of him muttering to himself in his bedroom were loud enough to track his movements. He came back to the table with a pile of things, nearly all of them unidentifiable, but vaguely surgical looking. Most were inside a rectangular plastic container that was short for the human, but probably shoulder height for Sam. He dumped it on a clear spot and then left to retrieve even more things. The detectives expression went from analytical to a scary kind of glee. He didn't even notice the basket had shifted an inch.
“Push.” Dean whispered and lifted up onto his hind legs to plant his hands onto the side but lower then the center of gravity, if he pushed from the top, the book could topple over, making a noise loud enough to attract Sherlock's attention. They strained under the massive weight. Even with Dean's strength, he was still too small to do much. He lowered himself back down. “Stand in the middle, I'm gonna get some speed and ram it.” He whispered and Sam pulled Oz right next to him dead center.
Dean ran around the border but the confines were too small to get much speed going, most of his energy on trying not to run into the sides as he scrambled around in circles. Figuring he can't go any faster, he saw the edge of the table coming up and pushed hard. The basket jumped forward three inches. Dean was knocked to his side and gaped. They were still a foot away from the closest edge. He lumbered upright and gently pushed Sam and Oz aside before changing his mind. “Get on me. We need weight.”
Sam didn't question it, he knew Oscar would take too long to climb up by himself, so he put his hands under Oscar's armpits and lifted the shorter man up, Dean's wings did the rest to get little Oscar onto his back. Sam jumped up next and held Oscar close while the wings lifted on either side of them to pin them in place. One man on each side of his spine spikes, holding onto them, using the spikes to stay put. Dean's body turned and he crouched into the furthest corner and lunged forward to the other side, ramming it with his chest and head. It jumped another inch. Dean backed up and did it again. The basket tipped off of the book's cover underneath, and the book on top pitched forward. All three looking up at it, waiting for a few seconds to see if it would go all the way, but it was too heavy and stayed on top. Dean rammed the wall again, and again. The basket went smoother now that it was on a slight decline and Dean used the lip of the cover underneath his feet for more traction. Two more lunges and they'd have a hole big enough!
Dean was getting very sore but he didn't care. This had to be done. He lifted up onto his hind legs again at the far side and pushed down and over, putting every ounce of weight into it and it skid those last inches. Leaving a gap big enough. The book on top teetered but didn't fall and Dean sighed with relief.
Dean sat down and wiggled his back and the two of them slid down, dismounting backwards. Grinning widely but when they came to the gap, they saw it was only an inch big. Dean couldn't fit though that.
Sam pat Oscar's shoulder, “Come on, almost there.” He said and was about to get back onto Dean's back when Dean stepped away, opening his wing downwards to shove him towards the gap.
“No. You and Oz, get the hell out of here. There's no time to argue. Go get help.”
Sam had a pained look on his face but knew Dean was right. The detective wouldn't be gone forever so with tears pricking his eyes he gave Dean's long head a quick hug and pulled Oscar along. Oscar hugged Dean's forearm tightly. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Oscar's voice was muffled where it was tucked.
“Don't worry about it.” Dean said, lifting his arm a little so Oz looked up at him. “I got a plan.” He winked and Oz nodded, tears falling freely.
Sam lodged his hook into place and swung down an inch. “Oscar!” Sam urged quietly and his friend came closer. “We both go at once.” Dean placed his hand onto the hook to make sure it could support the weight of both men. “Now!” Sam said and they both loosened their grip of Sam's line, sliding down fast to the floor.
The ground shook as the human re-entered the room, arms full when he saw two of his test subjects sliding down a line. Momentarily impressed with the skill and speed and the fact that they were able to shift the basket far enough to accomplish this task. He knew he had size and speed on his side so he set his bundle onto the floor and reached a hand forward, underneath the two figures sliding down.
Sam cried out in pain as he forced his hands to tighten around the sliding line, keeping him from descending into that huge waiting hand below. They were too late. “Climb!” He told Oscar but they weren't fast enough, Oscar felt the line below move and it was because Sam was being plucked from it, the human's other hand was splayed out, racing towards him, lifting up fast with the line between two of the fingers so he wouldn't miss. Oscar found himself quickly enveloped in that hand and he screamed when it started to tighten around him. Forcing him into a ball. The line was useless since the human gripped it tight where it entered and exited the fist.
Sam punched against the palm and fingers. The heat and slight sweat that surrounded him told him that Sherlock was very excited about his catch. He could use his knife to stab or slice any place surrounding him, but, without seeing outside of the finger cave, he had no idea if the effect would influence Oscar or not. If both the humans hands would open abruptly over open air then they'll fall to their deaths. He would risk his own life, but Oscar didn't deserve that fate. He'd have to wait for the opportune moment to attack. The fingers shifted him around with ease, forcing him into a ball shape or else risk a broken bone. Each finger was stronger then his whole body, he had to comply with its demands. He knew first hand the dangers that can come from fighting back but he couldn't help it. Kicking at the smallest finger repeatedly.
“Let them go! You son of a bitch!” Dean raged, punching the cage and making the book on top teeter on edge. Sherlock stood up from his crouch and using an elbow, nudged everything effortlessly back onto the table. Without the added help, Dean was screwed. He couldn't move the waste basket. Instead, he turned to where the wire mesh attached itself together, digging through with his claws and tugging at the seam.
Sherlock held one whole person in each hand. The feel of the squirming bodies was strange to him. When he'd held Sam and Dean that first time, it was only to transport them so he had minimal contact with them for fear of injuring them. The next few times, it was of their own free will to stand or sit on his hands. However, these two he's holding now can not possibly exist. Or at least, this Sam couldn't. The other man, Oscar? He was an unknown. Both would need sufficient study to determine what to do next. He imagined what this could look like to his flatmates were they here, watching. Likely they would be distraught and unsure of his intentions. Sherlock frowned deeply. Their feelings and thoughts could be manipulated by these intruders. Taking on their appearance to ensure that they wouldn't be harmed by them.
He made sure that his captives knew in advance what he was going to do. It helped ease his mind about the tasks ahead. Otherwise, they'd surely see him as a monster. “I will not harm any of you, so long as you do not harm me or others.” He started off, lifting a finger in each fist to see the heads of the creatures better. “I simply need to know what you are, where you came from, and your intentions here. I will be able to distinguish observable and testable facts for the prior, but through which, I should be able to discern the later. Lastly, depending on what I find, what to do with you lot.”
He would not wait for his flatmates, to force them to watch this. It would only be upsetting. For his Sam most of all. He nodded to himself and looked around for a suitable holding container for one of the men. Changing that description in his mind to 'subject' since it has yet to be proven that these beings are human men. He would be careful, but, give nothing away of his thoughts. One theory is that they are some form of Shapeshifter, some creature that Dean had mentioned when they were talking about the monsters of the world. The fact that Shapeshifters can read minds was helpful to know right now. He ignored the continued squirming in his hands as he walked around the kitchen table, looking at his supplies on hand and finding naught but the empty tea kettle. He'd spent enough time with his miniature flatmates to know that if these things are similar, they'd have similar capabilities and limitations. However, to be on the safe side...
He moved the smaller one over to the kettle and uncurled a single finger to grip and pop off the lid from it, looking inside to make sure it was empty and clean before easing the frightened small man inside the top opening and then quickly putting the lid over top in case this kind of creature was able to jump out. Then carried it over the short distance to the table and set it next to the wire basket. The dragon was tearing at the mesh walls.
“You bastard! Let him out!” Dean scraped the walls, making a shrieking sound of claw against metal. Sherlock winced at the sound slightly before leaning down to glower at Dean.
“Stop that. He is unharmed.” He sat at the table, and with his free hand reached to his side and picked up the clear plastic rectangular tray, dumping out the few scalpels and thin pliers from inside to land in a loud metallic clutter nearby. Laying the tray down and putting his still occupied hand inside. Releasing the one appearing to be Sam.
Sam stumbled and flipped around to face upwards when the same fingers that released him pinned him right back down again. His hands and feet were pressed flat against the cold plastic and he turned his head to see a warped view of Dean and a bronze tea kettle next to him. Guessing that's where Oscar was now. He fearfully looked up and saw Sherlock was rummaging around for something and came back with two six inch long flexible fabric tubes of sand. They were thick and heavy as he laid them across Sam's legs first, pinning them down without hurting him. The other tube of sand was curved around Sam's head to pin his arms next. Blocking his view of Dean and the kettle. His fear spiking now that the human had both hands free to do whatever he wanted.
“Don't do this.” Sam said, practically begging. “I am Sam, I'm Sam. I'm human, same as you.” Pulling at his right hand to get it free from the weight. “We didn't hurt anybody!”