Walking Toward the End

"A Study in Scarlet, The Hounds of the Baskervilles," Sam says, clearly intrigued. "That's all happened?"
"What? You mean a Study in Pink? Have you read John's blog?"
"Wait- didn't Sherlock Holmes die?" Dean asks.
"Faked his death. Three years before he went back to Baker Street." Sam corrects.
"So...he is alive?" I feel my eyes widen.
Sam looks to the ground, looking like he's scolding himself. "How long have you been here?"
I shrug. "I've no idea. Guess I don't really want to know. The drugs are out of my system, if that's what you're wondering." I pause, before realizing what they'd been talking about. "...you said the 'Sherlock Holmes universe'. What do you mean?"
"An angel performed a spell that sent us from our universe to this one," Cas says. "In our home universe, Sherlock Holmes is a book character."
I scoff. "And I'm the psychopath?"
"No-" Sam opens his mouth, but I cut him off.
"Look, if someone's put you up to this, just get out. I don't need to be mocked."
Sam glances at Cas disapprovingly. "He meant..." Sam pauses. "Actually, I don't have an excuse."
I cross my arms. "Yeah. Get out."
Cas steps toward me with a blank expression on his face. "I have a small connection to heaven here."
Before I can react, he puts two fingers to my forehead, and I'm standing in a field. No, not a field. I'm in the field, where I went on my first case with Sherlock. As I rotate, thoughts flying through my head and getting lost before I can grab hold on them, something catches my eye- or someone. It's me. I'm standing on a field, watching myself on the field.
"Strange," Cas's voice mutters next to my ear. "This is your happiest memory- but you believed someone was going to kill you."
"How did you-" I stare at him, watching my past self, when the scene changes to my room; me sobbing in my bed. The night I had my nightmare.
"Do we have to do this?"
Cas remains silent.
I'm completely panicking on the inside, but for some reason, I don't react on the outside.
My eye catches on Sherlock, standing silently and observing in my memory, and a lump forms in my throat. John and Mrs. Hudson busy themselves fussing about me, and I keep my eyes on Sherlock. Just for a second, just long enough to not be seen by anyone, his face drops, and he looks like he cares; his shield dropped. John turns to get me something, and Sherlock returns to normal.
"Stop," I whisper. "Please."
I'm nearing tears now, and maybe Cas could tell, because as I blink, we're back in my room.

I wipe my eyes quickly. "What was that?" I shout.
"What did you do, Cas?" Sam whispers.
"I showed her her happiest memories." Cas looks purely confused as to why I don't appreciate it.
"He's dead now!" I yell at him, putting my face in my hands. "It's just a joke. This...this is drugs again. Someone slipped something into my food."
"Well, I hate to break it to you sweetheart, but this is reality." Dean says. "Now, we've got to get you out of here."
"Why?" I whisper. "No one's visited. How should I know I'll be welcomed back?"
"They care for you," Cas interjects. "They're thinking about you."
I sigh. "As long as it gets me out of here. But how did you do the...thing?" I mimick his two-finger pose.
"He's an angel," Sam says nonchalantly.
I nod, knowing it's best to just pretend I understand whatever they talk about.