CHAPTER FOUR: Same
Planet, Different Date
As quickly as the spell had swept up the six travelers from
a small living room in a small house in the heart of South Dakota, it dropped
them down in a place five of the six would find entirely unfamiliar. The spell
worked as intended, like a charm. The travelers arrived each in his own piece
upon the floor of control deck of the TARDIS. The physical arrival, however, was
less than one of grace; as each found himself lying on the actual floor.
Dean was the first to his feet “Okay…” he said aloud as he looked around the
dark room. The light was scarce, but he could see enough to know he was no
longer where he was. “Sound off” he ordered, taking a hold of the situation as
he attempted to gain his balance.
“Sam Winchester present and accounted for,” Sam replied as
he pulled himself to his own feet, stretching his back out as he did so.
A few feet away from Dean and Sam, John slowly stood to his
feet, pulling his flashlight from his pocket, checking for nearby faces and
finding Sherlock already climbing to his feet. “John and Sherlock as well” John
called out.
“That’s four of six,” Dean replied. “Cas? You make it
through?” he called out, looking for his friend.
“Dean,” Sam called out. He had found Castiel on the floor
nearby. The angel had made it through, but was unresponsive. “He’s out” he
added as he attempted to examine Castiel’s state.
Dean quickly joined Sam at Castiel’s side. “Doc, think we
can get a little light over here,” Dean asked as he called out to John, who
quickly joined them.
Sherlock looked on “That is still only five,” he noted aloud
as he began to search the area for the Doctor, only to discover him on the flat
of his back and disoriented. “Doctor, are you alright?”
The Doctor shook his head. “No, not really, but that’s never
really slowed me down before,” he replied as he rolled over, pushing himself up
off the floor and stumbling to his feet. “That took a great deal more from me
than I had anticipated,” he grumbled, still gathering his own thoughts and
balance. “Now is everyone here, did everyone make it through alright?”
“Everyone’s here” John replied aloud as he finished examining Castiel’s pupils, before standing to his feet once more. “Castiel is
unconscious, but from what I can tell he’s fine. Of course some light would go
a long way in helping with my assessment of him.”
“Right, light – yes of course,” the Doctor replied as he
began to search the console that stood in the center of the deck. Finally a
lever is flipped and the room fills with soft blue and white lights. “Gentlemen
I present Time and Relative Dimension in Space also known as a TARDIS,” the
Doctor announced.
The light illuminated the control deck, revealing a room not
unlike the images brought to life by the most classic of science fiction sagas.
It was clean and futuristic with a heavy geometric décor. In the center stood a
tall console that extended far up into the ceiling above. The main control
panels of the console circled in a hexagon pattern, surrounding what appeared
to be a dimly lit pillar and power source. Every man that could stand - stood
in awe. Until, finally, Dean broke the silence. “So this is the spaceship?”
“Among other things, Yes” The Doctor replied, as he began to
examine the control panels, like a doctor who busied about checking over a
patient’s vital signs.
“Kind of retro” Dean commented aloud, still taking in the
surroundings.
“I happen to like retro, retro is cool,” the Doctor replied.
“How’s the patient Dr. Watson?”
“Hard to say, I mean he’s unconscious, but I can’t find
anything physically wrong with him, no outward signs of head trauma or any
trauma for that matter. His vitals are all as they should be,” John replied
with a heavy sigh. “Does he have any kind of a history with black outs or
fainting spells?” John asked, looking over to Sam and Dean.
“Well, I know in the past when he’s transported one of us in
time, it’s taken a physical toll – maybe the spell drew off him, drained him of
his energy,” Sam suggested trying to assist John with Castiel.
John stepped back for a moment, rubbing his eyes and taking a sharp and deep inhale. He was keeping his cool all things considered, but remaining cool and calm was no less a challenge.
Sherlock especially took notice of his friend’s growing
anxiety “John, you’re handling all of this rather well, are you alright?” He
asked showing mild concern.
“Yes, well no.” John began with a heavy sigh “I am for now;
I will remain so until Castiel is back on his feet, after that I really can’t
say – I mean here we are, standing in what we’re told is a spaceship, how are
any of us handling this well?” John replied, asking almost rhetorically.
“Right,hDoctor – do you happen to have a first aid kit on hand?” He asked
regaining his composure and his role.
“No, but I do have a medical lab set up for just these sort
of occasions,” the Doctor replied gesturing for the others to follow as he
turned to lead them down one of the metal bridge paths that winded away from
the main deck. Sam and Dean followed along first, each with half of Castiel
hoisted upon their shoulders, followed then by Sherlock and John. The path featured
many paneled doors along the way, but when the path reached a dead end at a
large heavy stainless steel door, the group finally paused as the Doctor
attempted to open the door, attempted and failed. “This is rather odd,” the
Doctor commented and produced once more his sonic screwdriver. It buzzed and
glowed as he swept it along the edges. “Very odd”
“Doc, what is it?” Sam asked curiously.
“It’s locked, and not just locked – time locked” the Doctor
replied, his tone failing his confidence. He turned around, moving past the
group, trying different doors as he passed. Not one would open, and after a
quick inspection each proved to reveal the same results, locked again and
again, and even locked to the Doctor. “This isn't possible. They can’t be
locked, they all can’t be locked!” he exclaimed, his frustration growing and
showing. “And certainly not from me, this is my TARDIS after all.”
“What are you saying? Are you saying we’re trapped?” Dean
asked aloud “Is he saying we’re trapped inside a spaceship?” His tone was a subtle blend of concern and
early panic.
“Maybe – I don’t know, this has never happened to me before,”
the Doctor replied nervously as he began to head back towards the main deck,
the rest of the group following along. “ I've been stuck on the outside unable
to get in before, but this – this is different.”
“Good different? Or Bad different?” Sam asked as he helped
carry Castiel along.
“To be honest, I haven’t really decided yet,” the Doctor
replied as he made his way towards a pair of double white doors, stopping for a
moment to examine them with the sonic screwdriver. This time the resulting feedback
brought good news. Still, before the Doctor rushed out what was likely the only
set of unlocked doors at his disposal, he paused and turned to face the other
men who eagerly awaited what he had to say. “Okay, these doors are unlocked,
but before we continue through them I need each of you to understand that I do
not know what awaits us on the other side of them. I know we are on stable
ground, I know we are on earth – this is all I know.”
Dean shrugged “Sounds like plenty to go on to me. What’s the
hold up?”
“This ship, my ship – my TARDIS is more than a Spaceship.
It’s also a time machine,” the Doctor confessed.
Upon hearing this John face revealed a somewhat nervous
smile as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, flipping it open to reveal his registrations “Yep, letters
are in order and legible” he then proceeded to put it away and then quickly
pinched the tender part of his forearm “Yes, hurts – clearly I am not dreaming…
I wish I was dreaming, but no – okay so time machine?”
“You’re warning us, cautioning us, preparing us – preparing
us for what exactly?” Sherlock asked, paying John’s momentary lapse of calm no
mind.
“I don’t know what is on the other side of these doors,” the
Doctor began. “We could step into New York 2055 or we might step into Rome 196
B.C. I simply have no way of knowing at this moment.”
“We would find your box in England, Doctor – is that not
what you said to John and I back at the flat not even two days ago?” Sherlock
asked.
“In case you haven’t noticed Sherlock, I have a tendency to
say a lot of things,” the Doctor replied honestly.
“Okay, so we’re in a spaceship that is also a time machine.
Why even bother going outside at all, why not just leave? We have what you set
out for right? Why don’t we just take it and go?” Sam asked, his point and
questions valid ones.
“Because one, I didn't simply misplace my ship. Someone
took it. Something that is not easy to do. Last time I walked through the doors
I made sure, as I always do, to lock them behind me and someone – I don’t know
who, but someone from your present day London found it and took it, took my
TARDIS. That person is somewhere, maybe inside somewhere, but more likely on
the outside, wherever we are, whatever time this is and I cannot leave them
here. Second, it appears every door is time locked, all but this one, and like I
said before that is different. And good or bad it would be very unwise for us
to leave before I figure out why. Third, a member of this group in unconscious
and needs care. For all we know he may need care immediately and the fastest
way to see he gets it is my moving forward… I think," the Doctor replied at
length. “We can’t go further in and we simply cannot leave. This leaves only
forward and out as our option. Our only option. I’m simply trying to warn you,
to caution you, to prepare you for what may greet us on the other side of this
option,” the Doctor added, echoing Sherlock’s own words from before.
“Sounds like we’re all about as a prepared as we’re ever
gonna be,” Dean replied with a shrug “and we’re not gettin’ any younger. So, lead
the way.”
The Doctor paused for a moment longer, his eyes falling over
the group that stood waiting before him. The fearless duo, Sam and Dean
Winchester, supportively shouldering their unconscious and ethereal companion,
Castiel. Behind them stood the most brilliant team modern day London could lay
claim to, the clever Sherlock Homes and the intrepid Dr. John Watson. The
Doctor smiled nervously – the first time venturing outside of one’s time was
never something he could prepare anyone for, but the excitement and
anticipation that normally filled this moment quickly gave way to the sinking
feeling that took hold of his gut, knowing that whatever took the TARDIS,
whatever brought them here – might still be even too much for this group, this
gathering of strangers, to take on. “Right this way,” he finally replied as he
turned to open the door and proceed out. The sight to behold was not one that
he had in any way anticipated, not that he had ever really bothered trying to
anticipate anything walking out of the TARDIS anymore. Still, what did greet his
view was a long wide hall, built of the finest stained and ornamentally carved
woods. Large stained glass windows stretched the length of the left wall,
allowing soft shimmering color tinted light to flow through and cascade upon
the floor. The opposite wall to his right held the most brilliant hand carved paneling
which echoed the magnificence of royalty the room clearly played witness and
stage too. And finally, in the center of the room stood a very large and
imposing round table with over two dozen identical chairs circling its edge. The Doctor’s eye grew wide as they fell upon this last sight “No!” he exclaimed
in a happy tone of disbelief, spinning around quickly to face the group once
more. “You four, and eventually five - are not going to believe this!” he further
exclaimed excitedly as he turned back, exiting the TARDIS so the others could
follow suit. “We’re in CAMELOT!” He announced in a ta-da sort of fashion.
Still, before anyone could step out to see what he had seen, to follow where he
had led, a figure stepped in the line of sight between the Doctor, the door and
the group. The figure moved quickly, striking the Doctor to the floor, laying
him out cold.
The figure, a man, was relatively tall, dressed in clothes
suitable for the era that the group suddenly found themselves in “Yes – you
–are,” he muttered to himself as he turned to face the rest of the group,
flipping his long wavy brown hair back and out of his face as he did so, and
with a smirk on his scruffy face and heavy sword readied in his hands he
greeted the remaining group, “Carefully this way or you will surely join him.”
“Why would you just jump someone like that – I mean who does
that?” Dean exclaimed, not much unlike the Doctor would likely have had he not
now been laid out on the floor in front of him.
“We do – we have frequently,” Sam nervously reminded Dean. “So let’s just step out, nice and calmly,” Sam suggested as the two, with
Castiel in tow, continued out.
“You two as well,” the man ordered, looking back at Sherlock
and John, who as instructed followed along. Once everyone was out the TARDIS
door seemed to close behind them on its own accord. The man tried his best to
open it once more “Why won’t it open? We've tried for days now to open this
door to no avail then you six walk out and now it’s shut once more. Why won’t
it open?”
“That is a very good question and you know who would have
likely known the answer?” John asked in his most sarcastic of tones, pointing
down at the Doctor.
“I can help him” a voice spoke up from the other side
of the strange man. Out stepped another man, this one about the same height as
the first, but far thinner and smaller in build. His skin was pale, which
created a cold contrast from his bright blue eyes and dark black hair. His clothing fit the period as well, but his brown jacket, blue tunic, dark brown pants and matching boots showed of far more wear than the other man’s attire,
and around his neck he wore a bright red scarf – the color of Camelot. “Just
one moment,” he added as he turned away and quickly returned with a pod of
garlic in his hands. “This should do,” he commented further and he bent down to
assist in recovering the Doctor, crushing the pod between his fingers to
release the oils and aroma.
As the Doctor was being assisted by the new comer, the man
who knocked the Doctor out in the first place stared curiously, still on guard,
at the new comers. “How did all of you even fit into such a small space to
begin with?”
“What do you mean small space?” John asked curiously as he,
Sherlock, Dean and Sam turned to look back at the object from whence they came.
Their eyes all falling on a sight each had had described at least once before
to them. A small blue box, small by
comparison to the room they had emerged from, that stood slightly taller than
Sam, and was only at best, as the Doctor had described i,t five by five feet
squared – a size that would only hold the six men in the most uncomfortable of
close quarters. The box was blue with white accents and frosted paneled windows
and read Police Box over the threshold.
“It’s a Police Box…” John observed
aloud.
“That’s actually a spaceship,” Dean commented further.
“That’s also a time machine,” Sam added.
“That’s larger on the inside,” Sherlock observed.
The Doctor sat coming too at this time, pushing himself off
the ground for a second time since being reunited with the TARDIS. “Yes, which
is exactly what I have been trying to tell you” he said aloud, coughing a bit
as he did so “Garlic?”
“It’s all I had on me, are you alright?” the smaller of the
two men asked, the man who had helped bring the Doctor back to the land of the
conscious.
“No, it’s clever and brilliant. What are your names?” the Doctor asked, looking at the pair
curiously as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m Merlin and this is Sir Gwaine, of Camelot,” Merlin, the
one who had helped the Doctor, the one who was not holding the sword, replied
honestly.
The Doctor nodded, smiling. “And that explains why,” he
remarked with a sigh. “Okay just a recap. We are standing in a room that has
existing inside of it a giant round table and a guy named Merlin at the same
time. Pay attention boys, because this is Christmas” he commented to Dean, Sam
and the others, keeping his voice low.
“Pleasantries aside, who are you six and why won’t this door
open?” Gwaine asked, clearly uneasy.
“Won’t open?” The Doctor replied curiously, walking over to
the door and sure enough it would not give, or budge, would not be pushed, or
slid, or even pulled as the sign on the front has instructed over and over and
over again. The Doctor examined it closer, with his sonic screwdriver - sighing
heavy over what the results revealed. “Time locked…. Why it is time locked. What happened to you?” he asked mumbling to himself as he did so. Turning, he faced what was now a
group of seven faces looking to him. “I don’t know – at this moment your guess
is nearly as good a mine. And by the way, why are you Sir Gwaine - a knight
with a sword - hanging around by my TARDIS?” he asked in a huff.
“It appeared here, on this very spot, a few nights ago. We
found it the next morning along with a handful of guards who were attacked in
the night,” Merlin replied, speaking up in place of Gwaine.
“Did they say who or what attacked them?” the Doctor asked,
his frustration giving way to concern.
“Some of the men didn't survive. The few who have – have only
done so for this long and may not see tomorrow. Unable to speak, all we can do
is help them and wait,” Merlin replied honestly.
“And you think this box has something to do with the
attacks?” Sam asked.
“Enough to keep it under guard,” Gwaine replied “Who are you
people- what are you yourselves even doing here?”
“We’re here to help – this, this box, it was taken from me
and we have come seeking to retrieve it and undue any damage that may have
resulted by its presence being here,” the Doctor began, doing his best to
explain what he knew was impossible for them to understand “I think whatever took
this from me is likely to have attacked the guards and I want to make sure when
we leave, whatever it is leaves with us. - Now, I need to speak to your King”
“I doubt I could possibly imagine a worse idea for a
conversation,” Merlin began, shaking his head. “Actually I could, but you six just
walked out a box that in the King’s mind caused loss of life among his ranks –
dressed as you are dressed no less. No, I can’t see that being a very good idea
at all.”
“You said you are here to help, yes? Help how?” Gwaine asked
looking over the strange group. “Are you knights, or are you physicians, or are
you bounty hunters? How are the six of you supposed to help us when you seem
just as puzzled about what attacked us as we are.”
“I am actually a physician,” John began speaking up. “Now, I
really need to help this man,” he explained, gesturing towards Cas who was still
unconscious. “He is in, at the moment what, is my very limited care. But I’m
sure I can help the men who were attacked as well. Trauma is sort of my
background; I know I can help these men if you let me.”
“And we are hunters of sorts, but not for bounties. If we
can help, we will.” Sam added, speaking forward alongside John.
“I don’t know Merlin, I’m not sure if we should trust them –
and I certainly don’t think this is something we should keep from Arthur,”
Gwaine replied, speaking his honest reservations to his friend.
“I agree, we shouldn't keep this from Arthur – but perhaps
we can postpone the news. I say we get these men to Gaius’ quarters, see if
they can help the men who were attacked. If they can, we present them to Arthur
– if they can’t, we alert the King,” Merlin replied, seeing an opportunity that
he felt was unwise to pass up. “Will you help me?” he asked of Gwaine.
“I don’t think it’s the best idea, but if they can help it would
prove to be a good one,” Gwaine began to reply, and paused for a sigh. “As always,
I’ll follow your lead.”
A soft and almost silent exhale of relief escaped the five
conscious men as Gwaine lowered his sword and his guard. “So Uther is King then?” the Doctor asked,
following the words traded between Merlin and Gwaine.
“No, Uther passed away over a year ago. Arthur is King now.
Still, if you can help his men, Arthur will greet you with all the welcome of
friends – if you can’t,” Merlin began to explain.
“With all the fury of a King” the Doctor replied,
understanding what Merlin was getting at. “Right, well before we proceed
further, I am the Doctor. These are the brethren Winchesters; Hunters Samuel
and Dean, the man unconscious upon their backs is their herald, and the
physicians Watson and Holmes,” He added, introducing them at length to the best
of his strengths.
“Welcome to Camelot. Now follow me,” Merlin replied as he
turned to lead them through the doorway at the end of the long hall, leaving
Gwaine to his duties. “Luckily most of the Knights are away on patrol, and the
few who aren't are accompanying Arthur on the hunt. Leaving the remaining
kingdom busy preparing for the upcoming tournament. Your timing is most
opportune,” Merlin explained as he looked back at the group.
“My timing knows of no other way of being, I can assure you,”
the Doctor replied with a smile as they began to exit the room and follow along
the empty passage ways that twisted and wound around and throughout the inner
working of the castle that stood as the heart of Camelot. Finally, the group was
led through a simple standing wooden door and into a rather sizable room – not
nearly to the scale in size or grandeur as the hall they had previously found
themselves in, but impressive none the less. The space was cluttered, with
most of the tables, chairs, desks and altars pushed to either side of the room,
allowing space for four small beds to be set out all in a row, each with its
own unconscious guard laid out upon it, covered and cared for as best it
appeared could be managed. A few small narrow windows allowed enough sunlight
in to illuminate the room. Aside from the beds, and the patients held upon
them, the room was clearly split several ways. Partly a library judging by the
many books that littered the space, part infirmary and lab by the looks of the
tools that shared the space, and even part living quarters as revealed by more
personal items that could be spotted amongst the shelves in between the rest. Footsteps
could be heard from across the room as an older man made his way down a small
staircase that ran along one of the room’s curving walls. He was dressed in a
floor length robe made of fairly basic burgundy material, accented by fine
embroidery – a small sign that he was more than just a servant to the King. His
shoulder length white hair, along with the lines of his face revealed his age,
but his blue eyes captured well the reflection of wisdom they held. The man
paused mid-descent, looking down upon the new comers who stood behind Merlin, in
the middle of the room. Merlin returning his look, swallowed hard before
speaking. “I can explain.”
“I sincerely hope so,” the man replied, as he continued down
the stair.s “You can start with who they are and continue with why they are
dressed in such an odd manner,” he instructed further.
“I can’t actually explain that – I’m not sure where they are
from, but I know it’s nowhere near here – but two are physicians and they say
they can help,” Merlin replied, attending to the question out of order.
The man took a moment, looking and examining each of the
faces before him. “None of you appear old enough to claim such a title, but if
you can help – it would be most welcomed. Something attacked these men, but for
the life of me I don’t know what, and as a result, am at loss for how to aid
them beyond what care I have already given them.”
“Well, let’s have a proper look, shall we?” John spoke up,
stepping ahead and aside from the group and over to the bed side of the man
closest to him. Sherlock also followed along, taking to the opposite side of
the bed. “Do you mind?” John asked looking up and over to the man.
“No, see what you can” the man
replied, joining them at the bedside.
“While Gaius is assisting them, let’s get your herald onto
a bed as well,” Merlin suggested to the remaining group, while also offering an
informal introduction of the master of the chamber. He and the other pulled aside,
leading back in a small adjacent room where they could lay Castiel down until
John and Sherlock could return to join them.
Around the first bedside, John and Sherlock waited patiently
and watched as Gaius folded back the blanket and started to undress the first
sets of wounds. When the layers of cloths were pulled away, the sight revealed
to them was one of multiple scratches, deep lacerations each. Though cauterization
had been applied to some of the wounds, many were still open. Across the chest,
the arms, the shoulder, neck, faces and just about any other surfaces of the
body the two men could see. Aside from the wounds, bruises and swelling along
the joints were very clear; the man at first glance appeared as though he had
crashed through plate glass and into a several story fall. Although
surprised, neither Sherlock nor John was taken back at the sight, and each was
clearly interested, if not slightly more enthused, their curiosities clearly peaked.
“Well, where to begin – I mean several contusions are visible – which given the
days since the attack is understandable, swelling and” John began, placing his
fingers upon some of the cleaned and undamaged skin as he felt for temperatures
“really wished I had some gloves with me, but definite rise in body temperature
– but low grade I would imagine, given the fact he’s still here. I’m sure we can
expect to find fractures upon further analysis,” he added as he leaned in
getting not only a closer look at the lacerations but also a sniff “Bacterial
infection – which could lead to endocarditis given the depths of wounds,
assuming it already hasn't. I’d have to get a listen of his heart to have a better
say on the matter though. Why only cauterize some of the wounds?”
“In an effort to minimize damaging too much of his flesh. I
used the method in places I could not stop the bleeding – the most necessary
locations, but anything I was able to stop through pressure or attending I did
so,” Gaius answered to the best of his abilities.
“John, do these lacerations appear odd to you?” Sherlock
asked, hovering over the body as well.
“Pretty clear scratches.” John replied. His observation, though
shallow, was not wrong.
“Yes, but look at each set. Always five, with the fifth first or
fifth always angled towards the median of the body. The initial pierces of each
scratch are almost rounded. These are scratches, yes, but not ones left by
talons or claws – these were made by a human, John,” Sherlock revealed in his
observation. “The patterns of some of the contusions along the neck are very
characteristic of someone being choked – an act of violence fairly exclusive
to our species as well, wouldn't you agree?”
“Well, of course concerning the marks along the neck,
Sherlock, but these scratches, I’d say the deepest ones are well into at least a
half an inch in some spots. I don’t know many humans that could have done
that,” John replied honestly, agreeing with Sherlock, but also doubting such a
person existed that would leave such wounds. “Are the others this bad off?”
John asked looking up to Gaius.
“Of these four he is by far the worst – but the other three
fair little better. Do you think you can help them? Do you know what did this
to them?” Gaius answered and inquired.
“Not without a small arsenal of supplies – most of which
we’ll have to reinvent on our own I suspect,” John replied, mumbling the last
half under his breath as he did so.
“I know whatever did this was a human, same as you or I –
but as far as who did this, in time I will have an answer for you as well. For
now, suffice to say whoever did this is very dangerous, and likely quite mad as
well,” Sherlock replied as he stood up.
“Well I do think I can help, but I will need a few things,”
John added as he began to assist Gaius in replacing the wrappings on to the
wounds, and covering up the wounded knight once more.
“Anything we can do to assist you, and whatever we don’t
have – Merlin is quite good a procuring.” Gaius replied, offering up Merlin’s
services to yet another.
“Alright, well, I would really like to take a closer look at
Castiel – but afterwards I will form a list and get to work on these four,”
John replied, excusing himself in order to see an entirely different sort of
patient. Both he and Sherlock made their way to a small room that was already
overly crowded, but upon arrival, all but Merlin and Dean remained outside,
giving John plenty of room to work.
John, once again, began to examine Castiel, doing his best to
check over his throat and paying close attention to his breathing pattern. “His
respiratory system seems fairly stable,” he commented almost to himself, resting
his head down upon Castiel’s chest to get a clearer insight to his respiratory
functions and cardiac rhythm. “heart and chest sound stable as well – would kill for a blood
pressure cuff,” he further grumbled as he began to take an assessment of his
pulse. “ We've pretty much established that he isn't responding much to verbal commands
of any sort. Let’s try a different sort of stimulus,” he suggested looking over
to Dean “You wouldn't still happen to have that knife on you, would you?”
he asked.
Dean simply nodded, pulling the knife from its sheath which
had been concealed by his jacket, handing it over to John, who had taken that
time to remove Castiel’s shoe and sock. He then ever so lightly began prick as
best he could the tenderest stretch of the patient’s foot. This produced a
minor response in Castiel’s brow line and eyes lids. “Very good – do you have
any smelling salts?” he asked looking back to Merlin, before moving to examine
Castiel’s eyes once more.
“Smelling salts?” Merlin replied curiously.
Sherlock, who stood back just on the other side of the door
way, overheard the request and spoke up “spirit of hartshorn or sal volatile perhaps – essentially an ammonia derived from
distilling deer antlers or horns. It would have a very strong odor.”
Merlin smiled “Hammonicus sal, yes,” he responded and he went
to fetch the elixir, returning quickly, and handing a small vial over to John.
“His pupils are more responsive than before. Let's hope this
does the trick,” he said, almost wishing aloud as he passed the open vial
beneath Castiel’s nose.
Almost instantaneously Castiel began to turn his head away
from the aroma and shift back into consciousness, his eyelids lifting and his
heaving as he coughed in response to the treatment. “Welcome back,” John said
aloud as he recapped the bottle, handing it back to Merlin once more.
“How you feeling Cas?” Dean asked curiously, as he helped
his friend sit up upon the bed.
“Well I have never been struck by a large vehicle before,
but I can imagine I feel as though I’m not too far off from such an
experience,” Castiel replied regaining his composure, clearly still weakened
from the event that knocked him out in the first place.
“Okay, well get some rest and rehydrate, I have to get back
to the other four. I’m sure Dean and the Doctor can bring you up to speed,”
John added as he stood up, exiting the room to rejoin Sherlock’s side. “I guess
the first thing we should do is work out whatever passes for antibiotics in
this time.”
Sherlock momentarily revealed a curious smirk “You’re
handling this rather well; I’d almost say you were even enjoying yourself, if I didn't suspect the appropriate thing would be not to.”
“Well, I’m not too keen on this whole time traveling Camelot
business, but I’d be lying if I were to say I wasn't at least comfortable with
the idea of stumbling into my element, even here or now, or whatever.” John
replied glancing around at the others who were busy acquainting themselves.
“Let’s get to work then, shall we?”
