It is Imperative That You Meet
On the cold evening of December 24th, 1980, John Watson was walking down a bust street in London, admiring all of the decorations in the shop windows and the people going around door to door singing Christmas carols. Being only eight years old, John was amazed by all of the Christmas cheer that was being spread and how everything just seemed so perfect. The roads and sidewalks covered in a thin layer of show, wreaths hung on the doors of flats, cars driving past with red noses or antlers taped to them. Nothing seemed out of place.
Well, almost nothing.
Glancing across the street John could see another boy, perhaps a few years older than himself, walking along the sidewalk, gazing at everything in sight, just like John had been a few moments ago. But there was something different about the way the boy took in his surroundings. His eyes weren't filled with wonder like John's had been. His were almost emotionless, cold grey emotionless eyes, scanning everything in sight.
The boy had dark hair, black probably. He was pale, skin almost matching the snow that had begun to fall. He had wrapped himself up in a long dark coat with a blue scarf tied around his neck. He had a look of seriousness, and wasn't even smiling when someone would walk by and say "Merry Christmas". He would just reply with a curt nod and keep on walking and staring.
John didn't know what to think of the boy and didn't realise he was staring at him until the boy made eye contact with him from across the street and gave him a sort of disgusted look. John quickly looked away and blushed, embaressed that he had been caught. When John looked across the street again, the boy was gone.
Many years later, John was taking a cab back from school when out of the corner of his eye he saw a tall figure standing outside of a cafe, smoking a cigarette. Even then, almost ten years since he had first seen him, John new that that was the boy that he saw across the road on Christmas Eve. The boy, or man now, still wore a dark trench coat and the blue scarf. He still stared with a cold intensity that sent shivers down his spine. Now that John could see him better, he noticed the the man was quite handsome. John was straight, but he had to admit that the mysterious man was good looking. His dark, curly hair was almost covered his grey eyes, or were they blue? And his cheekbones, oh the cheekbones. John could cut himself slapping that face. Not that he wanted to try.
Before he could do anything, the cab quickly turned the corner and continued on. After a few minutes it pulled up in front of John's flat.
John paid the cabbie and slowly walked up to his flat, still thinking about what he should do about the man. Part of him said that it was no big deal and that it was just by chance that he saw him again. Another said that it was fate and they were supposed to meet.
John's thoughts were interuppted when he heard the doorbell ring. Walking, rather slowly, down the stairs, he opened the door to find a man wearing a tweed jacket and a ridiculous red bow tie standing there. Behind him, he could see a blue police telephone box standing in and alley.
What on Earth is that doing there? John thought. Those haven't been around since 1963.
Looking back at the man on his doorstep, John finally spoke.
"Can I help you?"
"No actually," the man replied. "I'm here to help you, John."
"Oh really? How so?" John spoke with a small level of sarcasm in his voice, trying to hide the fact that he was atally quite curious to see what the man in the bow tie had to say.
"I can't say much," the man began to speak in a whisper, to make sure no one else could hear, even though there was no one around. "But I can tell you that I know that you have noticed the man with the dark hair and pale skin."
Before John could say anything, the man continued.
"Don't ask me how I know, I just do. His name is Sherlock Holmes and it is imperative that you meet." The strange man finished.
John looked at him, puzzled. "Why?" He questioned.
"I can't say."
"Well, alright then. Do you know where he is?" John asked, grabbing for his coat, thinking that he had been right and they were supposed to meet.
"No, no! Don't go to him. He will eventually come to meet you. Not here, not now, but eventually."
The man turned to leave, but John reached out and grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him back.
"Who are you?" John asked firmly. "Who are you? How do you know this? How do you know who I am?"
"My name's The Doctor," the man replied with a smirk. "It's my job to know everything. I keep the world balanced and stop a lot of bad thing from happening to you humans. Like I said before, I can't tell you why you must meet each other, but I'm telling you that you have to. It's important. That meeting with be one that with change both of your lives."
"Wait what do you mean 'you humans'? Are you not human?" That seemed to be the only thing John got out of that explination.
The Doctor just smiled, turned on his heel and bgan to walk towards the police box. He stepped inside leaving John standing on this doorstep, staring raight ahead, worried and a bit puzzled. As he turned to go in, John heard a whoosh, whoosh sound and turned to see that the police box was slowly disappearing, right before his eyes.
Before it vanished completely, The Doctor opened the door and shouted:
"Remember, it is imperative that you two meet!"
And with that, the blue phone booth was gone, along with The Doctor.