Sophia Holmes and the Empty Hearse (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

We walk in together when we arrive at the retirement home. I've never really liked old people's homes: it just seems to me like a pit where everyone old goes to die - there's no love here.

We walk into a large room where the residents are sitting at tables, and pass an old man using a zimmer frame and wearing a breathing mask, who nods at us. Dean pulls a face after the old man has gone by.

"Come on," Sam reprimands. "It's not that bad."

"You can't tell me this joint doesn't give you the heebs and/or jeebs," Dean replies, but Sam doesn't reply as a man in a suit approaches.

"Hello," he says, a furrowed brow indicating he doesn't know why we're here.

"Hi," Dean replies, stopping.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah." Sam and Dean hold up their badges. "Agent Crosby. FBI."

"Who's the girl?" he asks, glancing over at me.

"Miss Young, consulting detective on the case," I reply, using the cover name Sam assigned me earlier.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm Doctor Dwight Mahoney. I run Sunset Fields."

"We need to question your residents," Cas says.

"Well... why? About what?"

"Grand larceny, mostly," Sam says. It's an unusual phrase to use in such surroundings, yet the placid-looking residents continue playing chess.

"Of course," Mahoney replies, apparently unfazed. "Um, by all means, ask away. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

"Appreciate it."

"Great," Dean nods, and as Doctor Mahoney walks away, he turns to us. "All right, let's do this. No flirting, you three."

We pair off and Cas and Dean head over to talk to an old woman who looks pretty vacant while Sam and I hunt around for hex bags and EMF.

Sam holds the EMF meter close to his chest as the machine beeps to keep the sound down, but it hasn't picked anything out. I don't have much luck looking for hex bags either. Apparently, they are essentially little bags no bigger than the palm of your hand, closed with a drawstring. I can't get into any of the rooms, but from the canteen and communal areas, there's no sign of anything particularly supernatural.

As I wait for everyone to finish up so we can reconvene, I stand and watch an old man sitting at a table in front of a tray of food, staring vacantly. An orderly approaches and starts speaking to him. "You all done here?" The old man doesn't respond. "All right." Picking the tray up, he takes the tray and walks over to me. "It's creepy, right? A lot of these people – they just tune out and live in their own heads. It's like maybe the real world is too much for them, and they just run and hide, you know?"

"Hmm," I nod in agreement before he wanders away to dispose of the food. Sam and Dean come over together.

"Hey, what do you got?" Dean asks.

"Nothing," I reply. "No hex bags, nothing unusual. You?"

"Nada," he replies. "Half the folks I talked to don't even remember being robbed."

Sam gets distracted by a display case on the wall with photos of the residents and their room numbers written in a list beside.

"Dean, um..." he says after a moment, and we turn to look. "You remember a guy named Fred Jones? I think he was a contact of Dad's, lived outside of Salt Lake."

"Yeah," Dean replies, "that guy gave me my first beer. I don't even think I was double digits."

"Right, yeah. Me, too," Sam agrees. I was barely five. "Um, he was psychic, right?"

"Psychokinetic. Why?"

"'Cause he's in room 114," Sam replies, pointing to a picture of Jones.

"Cas," Dean calls, turning away to call the angel. "Let's go."

Cas is crouched down in front of a ginger cat which is lying on a coffee table. "I've almost cracked him," he says and I raise an eyebrow. A talking cat would not be the most surprising thing that's happened to me recently.

"Now," Dean says firmly and the three of us start walking.

Mr Jones' room is on the first floor, so it doesn't take us long to get there. When we find his room, I can hear television playing loudly from inside. From out here, it sounds as though he's watching a cartoon.

Dean knocks on the door, but nobody responds so we let ourselves in and Sam approaches the man in the wheelchair. As I'd thought, he's watching a cartoon - which seems to be, incidentally, an episode involving a cross being drawn and and an anvil falling from the sky.

"Mr Jones?" Sam says, crouching down beside the man. "Hey, it's, uh, Sam Winchester."

"Fred?" Dean asks. The cartoon now seems to have moved onto a skit about calling for a doctor, but Dean turns it off and tries again. "Fred! Hey!" He claps his hands twice, but Jones continues to stare up at the blank television.

"So, you really think this one man is causing all of these... shenanigans?" Cas asks and I must say, his doubt is shared by me.

"Well, if he is - and he's psychokinetic - he'd be surrounded by a 'bubble of crazy', right?" I ask.

Dean's eyes widen with an ideam "Hang on." He picks up a large book and hits himself in the head with it. There is a loud clanging sound, then the sound of birds chirping. Dean then shakes his head rapidly from side to side. "Brrrr," he says in a cartoon voice before it drops. "Bingo."

"But how?" I ask.

"Fred's got juice," Sam explains. "I mean, an average psychokinetic can move things with his mind, but a guy like Fred – you get him worked up, he can reshape reality."

"So how do we stop him?"

"I don't know," Sam admits. "I'm not even certain if he knows we're here." I look back at Jones and see he's still looking up at the turned-off television.

"Do we... kill him?" Cas asks, and I spin around to retort when I seen Doctor Mahoney standing at the door with the orderly that was speaking to me earlier.

"Excuse me, Agents. Did he just threaten to murder one of my patients?"

"He, uh," Sam tries, but has nothing. "Thanks for your time Doctor," he says, leading the way out the room.

"Real freaking smooth," Dean snaps as we reach the hallway and start walking down.

"Well, we don't have to leave him," Cas suggests. "I could teleport him."

"Fred's radioactive, Cas," Sam explains. "You zap him – no telling what will happen."

"We'll circle back tonight, get Fred nice and clean," Dean says to Cas. "You go 'Invisible Girl' and keep an eye on him. You hear me?" There's a flapping of wings, and as we turn to look, he's disappeared. "Good."