Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, concepts and situations are copyright to the BBC and DC Comics, respectively.
A/N: Doctor Who/Sandman Crossover
Echoes
Lucien paced down the library's endless corridors, attuned to each volume, aware of every book on every shelf. They were a part of him, part of his creation: he existed from and for and of the books. The subtle skittering sounds of books being written filled the air; the sounds of stories being born, stories that would never be, but were eternal. Every half-formed thought that died, drowned by apathy or fear, every line never written, was written here.
A deep bell-like tone sounded, vibrating the shelves, the volumes shedding dust and dreams that filled the air. Eyes wide with surprise, he abandoned dignity and ran, quick and sure through his library, searching for the source. Skidding to a stop, his normally immaculate appearance ruffled as he breathed deeply, he sought for composure. Lying on the floor at the foot of one of the shelves was a book, simply bound in plain brown leather.
It had appeared where it was meant to be shelved.
The essence of any library, its heart, was its catalogue; in this library the catalogue was the soul of the collection and it ensured that volumes went where they belonged.
The book's unremarkable appearance was in direct contrast to the remarkableness of its existence. Well over a hundred and forty years had passed in the mortal realm since a book had joined the volumes on this particular shelf. While the library contained every book ever contemplated, Lucien had believed the authors generally had to be alive to dream them into being. But there it was, waiting patiently to be placed with its fellows.
He grasped it delicately, reverently, turned it over to reassure himself of its solidity. Traced across its cover, gold script glinting: The Mystery of Edwin Drood and the Blue Elementals. By Charles Dickens.
Astonishing. Lucien had seen many things in this library, but he'd never seen a story born after the death of its author.