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Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject.
- Others respond.
- Roll 1-10 at RNG for a scene, play it out and have fun!

1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to makeup.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
11. INSANITY. You're seeing things that aren't really there, hearing voices, or you're just convinced you're at your wit's end finally and you're going to crack. Maybe someone can give you a helping hand.
12. TIRED. You've had a heard life recently and you're just worn too thin to really care anymore. There's no fight left in you anymore. Can someone help change your mind?
13. ADDICTION. Drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or any other type of addiction has got you in its grasp. First time or relapse. Will someone be able to save you?
14. INSOMNIA. You can't sleep anymore, no matter how hard you try. Maybe someone can give you company.
15. NIGHTMARES. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, you can't sleep without gruesome, horrible nightmares. Either someone is stuck in your dream with you, witnessing it or they're just waking you up, soothing you out of it.
16. BLACKMAIL. You've been caught doing something you shouldn't and you were blackmailed because of it
17. SEPARATION. You're going to be separated for awhile or were separated for a long time. Either make up for lost time or try to spend every last moment together.
18. VIOLATED. You've been violated in some way. Can include sexual overtones or not. Can someone help you through it?
19. STRANDED. You've been stranded somewhere remote, with no help of anyone finding you for awhile. Can you survive this together?
20. SINS. You're feeling the weight of your sins and guilt clearer than ever. Can someone give you absolution or lessen the ache any?
21. SECRET. It's difficult having to keep that secret of yours, be it a relationship or something you just don't want to share with anybody else. Maybe it's okay to talk about it now though...
22. ADDITION. Babies should be joyous things unless you're in a situation where you know you won't be able to care for them. Either you've adopted or found out you're pregnant.

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Yes, retreat from an unending battle. Yea, he dealt with his fear because of Sherlock, the twat. He heard him and sighed turning around leaving his bag on the floor he walked over and took the paper. "Toilet...nasty." he sighed glancing it over skimming it. He hadn't wanted to do a hunt, but if it meant getting to stay...may as well.

He looked at him, trying to mask his hurt with interest, he was curious but he still was a bit hurt by Sherlock's cold demeanor. Really he should be used to it, but still he had been a bit hopeful, way to crush that, Sherlock. "How far away is Cardiff?"

He didn't have any weapons or anything with him. "I don't have my gear, you know how the TSA is." he pointed out, yes he had his father's journal. But other than that....No guns or knives.

"Three hours by train," Sherlock told him as he watched Dean read through the paper. He had trouble predicting and seeing people's emotions, but even he could tell that Dean wasn't very happy with him. Then again, most people tended to be unhappy with him most of the time.

He pushed himself off his stool and walked around his lab table to the shelf on the far side of the kitchen. His fingers dipped into a pocket on the inside of the lab coat hanging at the wall to retrieve a key. He used the key to open the locked cabinet in which he used to store bulky laboratory equipment. Inside, there was a dozen altered guns, five knives, a vat of holy water, and two killogrammes of rock salt. He knew the likelihood of either Mrs. Hudson or John looking in this particular cabinet was practically zero.

"I haven't entirely moved on from hunting," he admitted. He hadn't entirely moved on from Dean, either... but that was a different story altogether.

Dean nodded and set the paper down. He wasn't angry with Sherlock for long. He stared when he saw all the hunter items Sherlock had collected and grinned. "Nice job." He patted Sherlock on the shoulder and looked over the items. Hunting and Dean were something a lot of different people couldn't move on. Lucky for you Sherlock, he can't move on from you either.

He moved a hand over one of the guns and smiled. "This one is like my favorite gun I have in the back of baby." he pointed out glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock. "So...we probably should take a bit of everything." he said going over to his bag and got his father's book out beginning to look in it for deaths similar. Water...water. "Might be a water imp." He pondered allowed.

"Japanese Kappa," Sherlock guessed, as he excused himself to go to the main room. When he returned, he was wearing his Belstaff. He opened the coat and started to slide a few guns Matrix-style into small holsters he'd added to the inner lining. He made sure to distribute the weight evenly through the entire coat so it wouldn't look too off or bulky.

He picked up the gun Dean pointed out and handed it to him without a second thought, then he chose a couple more for Dean to take with him. A knife for each of their shoes, a couple flasks of holy water (just in case), and a bag of rock salt rounds, silver bullets, and standard rounds. "You haven't eaten. We'll stop at Angelo's on the way."

Dean nodded. "Most likely." he nodded as he began shoving guns everywhere he could...knives in his boots (well he had a knife on anyway, thanks to a hunter who worked at the TSA) He put a gun behind his jacket tucked into his pants, and another in the front waist of his jeans hidden under his un-tucked shirt...a few more in the inner pockets of his coat and he nodded.

"Oh thank God, I am starving." he sighed and nodded. "Sounds fine with me." Yeah he had a couple of fake credit cards on him to enjoy London. "I think I got what I need. Lead the way Cheekbones."

Sherlock let Dean take whatever he wanted. He knew he would get it back by the end of the hunt. Dean was one of those few people that he felt he could implicitly trust with things like that. Similar to John, though he hadn't gotten around to explaining his new hobby to his rational-minded friend. He was sure that John was aware that something was up, since he didn't always come back from the (rare) hunt uninjured.

He picked up his smartphone and used it to order a couple of train tickets for them. "We'll have time to eat there if you'd like," he commented as he slipped the phone into his pocket. He just needed his scarf and they'd be set to go.

"Sweet." he said and he watched Sherlock finish getting ready, he wanted to shove that stupid stubborn man against a wall and kiss him but there would be time for that later.

He went to the door. "Where is your friend, John?" he knew John and Mary were Sherlock's other 'flatmates' and that John was Sherlock's best friend....the names did creep him out a bit. Even more since their last names started with a 'W' as well. But he wasn't about to bring it up..as long as they didn't name their kids Dean or Sam.

"Out," Sherlock told Dean as he shut his equipment cabinet and locked it. He left a few guns and knives stored away and placed the key back into the pocket he found it. A precaution. If something went wrong and they ended up trapped somewhere, he would be able to contact John and Mary for backup. They weren't hunters, but if he could devise a way for them to safely help, he would. It's a type of back up plan he wouldn't consider if he were going on the hunt solo, but he'd be with Dean. He'd already lost him two-and-a-half times.

He grabbed the last few things before hurrying downstairs. He called out to Mrs. Hudson that he was going to be late and to tell John not to wait up. Not that he would, now that he had Mary.

Dean nodded clicking his tongue in his mouth then nodded. "Right." and followed Sherlock down the stairs waving at Mrs. Hudson as they left. Hey he didn't plan on dying tonight...if it was a Kappa it was pretty straight forward. He stopped on the street. "Damn British cars are so small." he pointed out glancing at the cars around. He hadn't really paid attention to the size of his taxi earlier. "Are we taking a cab or walking." he knew Sherlock didn't have a car after all.

He is alive and he is here, you should enjoy it Sherlock.

"Walking to Angelo's and a cab to the station," Sherlock told him, slipping his hands into his pockets once they were outside. He took a pair of black leather gloves from the deep Belstaff pockets and slipped them on. Not only would they keep his hands warm against the cold, moist air, they'd also come in handy to mask his prints while they were working.

He didn't glance over his shoulder to make sure Dean was keeping up with him. He knew that he would. It was strange having Dean in London with him. It mixed his normal life with the life he'd led for those two years with the Winchesters.

"Cool." he said walking along, he did give his usual Dean nod to any cute girls he saw glancing them over as he walked past following. But you know that is admiring the view...not so much actually trying to pick up a lady friend. He came here for one person. "Don't you look like a badass." he teased.

He meant the gloves and everything. Sure he had seen Sherlock in his coat and suits, but the longer he was there the less he wore them because the more warn they had become. "What kinda food they got at this Angelo's place? Italian like stuff?"

Hearing Dean tell him he looked like a 'badass' certainly beat John telling him not to wear his coat with the collar up. (Sherlock knew for a fact John did it too when they weren't together.)

He knew he was giving Dean the cold shoulder. He was still sorting how he felt about this sudden reunion. Really, he was glad to see Dean. He'd missed the younger man severely during their time apart. He'd been satisfied with text messages and emails, because to him contact and conversations were the most important part of a friendship. A relationship. As sentimental as it was, he'd missed Dean's stupid face, stupid hair, and incredibly stupid voice. Dean coming here might have made the here and now better, but it would sure as Hell make the goodbye unbearable.

"Pastas, garlic bread, things like that. The menu should be similar to that Giovanni's Kitchen in Cincinnati," he explained over his shoulder.

Dean could tell he was getting the cold shoulder regardless. He shifted awkwardly behind him and tried to offer a smile, but Sherlock was ignoring him. Well shit.

Yeah, well he missed Sherlock's stupid puffy curls, and his cold eyes. His know it all voice and full of himself attitude. Yet, here he is stop wasting what little time Dean has here Sherlock.

Dean wishes more than anything to have stability, to be have to say he is going 'home' to have his bed to sleep in at night. Not night after night in a random themed cheap motel. He wishes that Sammy didn't have to have the life he has, Sammy should be finishing up his law degree and getting married.

Three things in his life had been stable, his car, his relationship with Sammy and having Sherlock. Sure he knew it couldn't last but he wanted to enjoy it now, while he could. If he could force Sammy to go to college and retire from hunting and partner with Sherlock he would....Shit he might even give up his car for Sherlock. Not that he'd admit it.

Sherlock was closed. He always had been, at least since he was in grade school There were rare moments when whatever emotional rubbish would shine through, but for the most part he had a firm check on everything sentimental. Dean's presence now was a threat to that and he didn't take it as well as he should. Once he'd be able to come to terms with everything in a reasonable way, he would show Dean a bit more kindness. He wasn't ready for that yet. Dean should know. Dean knew him better than anyone else at this point save maybe Mycroft or John.

When they arrived at Angelo's, Sherlock was the first to approach the door. He opened it and held it open for Dean out of habit.

Dean followed him in silence taking the town, London was so different than any place he had seen, yet it seemed the same in someways to America...hey look a McDonald's! When he gets to the restaurant he raises an eyebrow and then follows in standing awkwardly out of the way to let Sherlock do the talking.

Should he try and act British? Naw, probably not a good idea...~~practicing the accent in the shower can only get you so far.~~ Billy showed Sherlock and Dean to their table, you know right there at the front. ~~Yes Billy still works there~~. Oh table right here by the window, okay.. he slowly slide down. "You get a reserved table? Nice." he grinned.

The table itself had always been reserved for him. He'd been surprised that even during his 'death,' Angelo had kept it closed to the general public in remembrance of him. John had come once during that time and he was the only person that had been allowed to sit there during the entire three-year period. "Yes, I got the owner off a murder trial several years back by proving he'd been committing robbery halfway across town at the time the murder was committed," he explained. As he explained it, he shared an awkward sort of smile from across the restaurant with Angelo. He was already bringing the candle and a couple of unordered glasses of wine.

"Anyway, you can order anything you'd like whether it's on the menu or not," he went on. It would be fresh and free as was Angelo's policy regarding him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well alright, damn I wish you could get me off the crimes they think I committed." he mumbled under his breath as he sat down, hey wine sweet. He grinned up at the guy. He glanced at the candle. "Are we like on a date?" he asked leaning towards Sherlock slightly. He could classify hunting as a date for someone like Sherlock.

He glanced the menu over. "Ooh spaghetti with meatballs." he grinned up Angelo. "I want that."

"The crime scenes have long since been contaminated," Sherlock commented, shaking his head. He could clear Dean's name of new crimes, and he had done so twice, but the old crimes wouldn't be so easy. It was a simpler matter proving someone was the culprit than it was proving someone was innocent when it came to a job like the one the Winchesters led.

For the first time, he couldn't scoff at someone for asking if they were on a date. He didn't know if this was a date. He hadn't intended it as such, but given their history, he couldn't be so sure. Luckily, Angelo came round before he needed to say anything about it one way or another. He didn't order anything for himself besides a coffee. He wouldn't touch the wine, because it would make him drowsy. Not good on the way to a hunt.

"Yeah I know... I just get so fuckin tired, of people thinking I am the murderer....when I got rid of the thing killing people." He huffs before he sees Angelo within hearing distance.

"Not gonna eat? Oh right." he smiled, yes this was a hunt after all...he had seen the man go for days without eating, which was crazy in his eyes but oh well. He shifted, Sherlock didn't confirm or deny it what the hell did that mean? He'd worry that Sherlock was seeing someone else, but he knew the guy wasn't the type to date really anyone. Despite what people think, he is kinda loyal when it comes to really connecting with someone. Sammy gave him shit for not chasing tail back in the states (out of jest) but he had just ignored him. God he was stupid wasn't he?

Wine isn't usually his thing, but free wine is free wine.

"When people don't believe the things that are killing people exist, things get complicated. If you were a vigilante fighting crime in the way you fight the paranormal, things would be different. But, you'd also still be charged with murder," he went on. It was so much easier talking about crime and justice. He had a working knowledge of laws, as it suited him, but he was by no means an expert. His expertise was more in line with forensics than with judge and jury. One might even be able to call him a vigilante with the amount of times he'd taken justice into his own hands either by intentionally letting the criminal go when the penalty would outweigh the crime - Irene Adler - or by personally seeing to their punishment when the law wouldn't have been on his side - Jim Moriarty.

Sherlock took his coffee and added two teaspoons of sugar to it before taking a sip. Sugar, caffeine, and fluids were all he needed to go by for thirty-six hours before he needed to snack.

The silence was beginning to feel awkward. Talking about things that didn't need talking about while they were both avoiding the big, glowing neon sign flashing above them. A topic neither of them cared to broach for the time being.

There was a buzz and then a musical sound. A text. He slipped his phone from his pocket and checked it. Excited for a moment, then a frown. "It's Lestrade. Says there's been a funny accident in Brent," he explained. A hunt and a crime to solve all in one night. That left him in the very awkward position of deciding what to do.

Dean shifted drinking some of the water instead. He heard the text raising his eyebrows and blinked. "Oh a case, case..." He frowned slightly and shrugged. "It's cool Sherlock, go get Watson and do your thing...I mean I can easily go off and do the hunt." He pointed out. "That way both cases are solved." He grinned.

It wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his vacation, but if it meant saving some lives than he was willing to do it. "Just point me in the way to go." he said glancing towards the kitchen where was his food he was hungry.

"Never work a hunt solo," Sherlock said as he set his phone down on the table, "Weren't you the one who told me that?"

He hadn't responded to Lestrade yet, because he hadn't decided what he was going to do about the situation. On one hand, he hadn't been on a hunt in a while and Dean was here with him. It would be a taste of those two years in America that hunting on his own hadn't quite given him. At the same time, being a consulting detective is the epitome of who he is and what he does. This case in particular, at least from the text, sounds like something he's never dealt with before.

"True....but I know how much detective work is your thing.." He sighed also he told Sherlock that because Sherlock had been wet behind the ears, he rubbed his jaw. "Obviously you've done that since coming back. Well um, we could put off of the hunt and do the case?" He shifted. "Well I mean you and your partner go do the case."

Sure he knew about weapons and cars and supernatural of all kinds but he knew he was no doctor, yeah looking at a corpse he could tell violent death was not that of a person but supernatural, depending on the supernatural being.

Sherlock raises his eyebrow when Dean suggests doing the hunt and then taking care of the case. The way he says it implies that Dean wants to work the case with him. At least until he corrects himself. "Cardiff will take three hours travel time there and another three back. Even if it's an open and close hunt, we'll be there at least two hours. That's eight hours total and given the nature of this case, that might be too long," Sherlock explains, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. He knits his fingers together and brings them up under his chin. "You've got good eyes for spotting abnormalities. You should come with me to check the crime scene and we can go to Cardiff in the morning."

Dean blinked. "But, wouldn't that like be um...weird?" He shifted. "I mean come on man, you usually dragging around Watson, would your Lestrade friend even allow some random American to come on a crime scene?" In America he'd have to have fake IDs...

"If you haven't noticed I don't do the best British accent impression...." He said with a sigh. "I mean...I can go with you to Cardiff no problem....in the morning." It isn't that he doesn't want to go....just how are they going to play this off. Because in America...things are very different with getting on crime scenes.

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Always takes his dates to Angelos?

Yes.

Dean won't mind the candle

It's more romantic. Angelo's a hunter.

Oh my...

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Dean, you sweet, stupid man.

He is

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