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The final clue

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That last throw of the dice is met with groans, some shouting, high fives, confusion and perhaps even a chair dance or two around the large table where they have all gathered. Mycroft is muttering under his breath about the cheating gits sitting in front of him while Sherlock, without much surprise, keeps his eyes on the board without losing focus. The game is never over until it truly is. Molly gingerly pats Mycroft on the shoulder, but really her focus is on the glass in her other hand, the one that is almost empty. Where’s the Pimm’s gone? She spots the pitcher--still half full--on the kitchen counter, but figures it can wait a few minutes until after the final reveal.

On the other side of the table, Dean looks as cocky as he ever does while Sam, still giddy, tries to explain to Castiel that they have pretty much won because they got to the last clue first. Castiel nods patiently although he doesn’t seem to care much for the game. He is there to provide his brothers, his family , with his support in whatever form they need, whether they call for his angelic powers, or a sixth player at the table. Dean grabs the paper sleeve, opens it and looks at the card inside for a brief second before his face goes from smiling to slack-jawed and he drops everything as if it were burning his hand.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he musters the nerve to finally speak, eyes wide and slightly panicked looking everywhere but not truly seeing and dread suddenly fills the now quiet sitting room. “How... how did they do that?”

With trembling fingers, he pulls the card fully out of the sleeve and flips it over, face up. Everyone leans in (because really what would have Dean Fucking Winchester so worried all of a sudden?) and here are Lucifer and Jim Moriarty, looking straight at them on a standard Clue card, smug as ever and glasses raised high in celebration.

Fuck.

So much for hols. In a matter of seconds, the board game is forgotten, chairs are pushed back, mobiles and computers are put to use, shouts are heard, allies are called and friends are warned. They’ve got work to do.