A/N: This story is a collaboration between myself and the lovely wholocked12, who happens to be my sister. We have a different collaboration story going on her page called The Other Side of Love. Check it out if you so desire. :)
Upside Down is a Torchwood/Sherlock crossover fic. As far as timelines go, it's just a little bit messed up. We've taken the creative liberty to make it post-Reichenbach, but pre-Exit Wounds, between To The Last Man and Meat. It'll progress from there, going through season 2 and 3, but it won't follow it to the letter dialogue wise, because that would be boring.
Eventual Sherlolly at some point, eventual Towen (of sorts), and Janto as far as pairings go... Oh, and we own nothing from either of the two shows. *sigh*
Molly was working late in the morgue. Nine at night and she was the only one left on her floor. Luckily, she only had one more autopsy and then she was done for the day and the week. She wheeled out the body from the freezer and set herself up with her iPod before sterilizing her hands. As she walked over to the sink, she heard a loud knock on the morgue door. Molly walked cautiously over to the door, hand washing forgotten. No one ever knocked on that door. She pulled out her ear buds and placed them in her lab coat pocket. There was another knock, this time more insistent. Molly swung open the door to find a man standing with an old fashioned military coat, brown hair, and blue eyes you could easily lose yourself in.
"Who are you?" she asked hesitantly.
"You've got a great a body," her replied giving her a once over with those fantastic eyes.
"Sorry?" she squeaked, feeling her cheeks burn a bright red.
He chuckled. The sound was quiet and oozed charisma. It also made Molly feel like her knees weren't supporting her in quite the way they should be. "All the right curves in all the right places, that's all I'm saying... Especially down below, you know?"
She felt herself go an even deeper shade of crimson, if that were actually possible. "Excuse me, but what's your name?" she inquired.
He laughed again, stepping into the morgue and shutting the door behind him. Leaning back on it casually, as though the conversation were not taking place in a morgue, he said, "well, Miss Molly Hooper, I'm Captain Jack Harkness."
"How—how do you know my name?" she stuttered, deciding to study her shoes in great detail rather than looking him in the eye.
"I know lots of things," he whispered and took a step closer to her. "Things that could turn your entire world upside down."
She backed slowly away from him in the direction of the autopsy table. "Yes, well, that's very nice, but you've caught me at a bad time... I was just about to start an autopsy. I can talk to you later—"
"You're not doing that autopsy, Doctor Hooper. Do you know what caused this man's death?" She shook her head slightly. "I didn't think so and neither did the squad that brought him in. Not age because he's a young man. You already knew it couldn't have been any of his internal organs malfunctioning because of the scans, so, Molly, what killed him?"
"Well, I don't know until I get inside of him," she said, a bit flustered as she backed up a few more steps.
"But, you're not getting inside him, because I know what killed him and it will kill you too if you go poking around inside of him."
"I'm sorry, but it's my job to do this autopsy," she said, attempting to be firm. "I can't just not do it because some bloke comes in telling me I shouldn't."
Captain Jack, or whatever he said his name was, raised an eyebrow at her. "I think you'll find you can and will do just that." He paused long enough to pull something from within his massive coat. She thought it might be more ostentatious than Sherlock's coat, a Herculean feat in itself. "Torchwood, Special Ops."
"What's Torchwood?" Molly settled her hands firmly on her hips. As a pathologist, she felt like she shouldn't let just anyone who flashed an ID at her take over an autopsy she was charged with completing. Identification could be stolen, being around Sherlock had taught her that in a hurry.
"Out of the government's reach and away from the police. We work with alien tech that we get off of aliens we catch," Captain Jack stated plainly.
Molly's jaw dropped open. "Aliens don't exist."
"Oh, sure they do. Ever wondered why some accidents occur? Open that body and you'll see they do exist..." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Right before you die."
At that second the room seemed to explode as four people rushed in with guns pointed at the ready. Molly's knees locked. She'd never been aimed at in her life and now two men and two women could pull their triggers on her at any second. She did the only thing that seemed logical at the moment. She fainted.
T:S:T:S:T
Jack put his ID back in his pocket and scooped up the limp body of the petite pathologist. "Didn't think she'd actually faint," he commented, looking at her still, pale face.
"Please, she practically passed out when you smirked at her," Owen rolled his eyes as Jack passed the young woman over to Ianto's care." How did you think she was going to react to having four guns pointed at her?"
"I still say that was unnecessary," huffed Tosh, stowing her gun safely away in its holster. "It said in her records that she's highly intelligent. If you'd given her a better description of what we do—"
"—Don't have time," Jack shook his head at the technician. "We've got to get this parasite contained, and quickly, or this whole hospital's in danger. Owen, toss me a gas mask and a pair of those gloves, will you?" The doctor obliged.
"Are we going to Retcon her?" Gwen asked as she, Tosh, and Ianto took the unconscious Molly from the morgue.
"Not sure yet," Jack replied with his patented amount of vagueness. "Seal off the area on your way out."
As the trio and the unconscious woman made it down the stairs, she started to wake up in Ianto's arms.
"Where am I?" She mumbled groggily as she rubbed her eyes with her fists.
"St. Bartholomew's hospital," Tosh responded as she took a few vitals on the young woman.
Gwen pulled open the door for Ianto and Tosh as they walked out into the brisk air. Tosh unlocked the SUV with a click and held the door so Ianto could lay Molly down in the seat. He closed the door and turned to question Tosh about the woman's health.
"I believe she has a slight concussion from the tile floor, but I think Owen should be the one to figure out the rest," Tosh said.
"What are we going to say to her?" Ianto posed the question to the technician. "It might take Jack and Owen awhile to extract the parasite. Last time, it almost took an hour."
"I don't know," she admitted. "Jack's usually the one to handle these types of things."
"Guess we'll just have to wait, then."
T:S:T:S:T
"God, that was brutal," Owen moaned as he and Jack exited the morgue and began to tear down the caution tape. "I thought we'd never get it out of him."
"It wasn't as bad as last time," Jack pointed out. "It almost got into your skin. We've been seeing more of these lately. I wonder why?"
As they neared the door, a tall, slender man in a billowing black coat rounded the corner. "Molly!" he called, stopping short at the sight of the pair. "Who the hell are you?"
"Might I ask the same to you, mate?" Owen growled, obviously quite annoyed.
Before things could get rough, Jack extracted the ID from his pocket. "Torchwood, Special Ops. I'm Captain Jack Harkness and this is Owen Harper. Nice cheekbones."
"Doctor," Owen reminded him.
"Yes, right, Doctor Owen Harper."
"Well then, Captain," he sneered. "I'm Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective." The pair looked mildly impressed. "Heard of me then, have you? Well, I must say the pleasure is all yours because I felt none. Good night."
Sherlock brushed past them, about to storm own the corridor, when Jack realized the name that he had said. "Molly," he whispered.
"Hey cheekbones, get back here. You looking for Molly Hooper?" Jack called after the black haired man. He froze in his tracks, spinning around.
"Yes I am," he said sharply, striding back to where they were. "What've you done with her, where are you taking her and why?"
"Whoa, slow down a sec," said Jack, waving a hand through the air. The action appeared to miff the detective, whose nostrils flared warningly. "That has potential to be some serious accusations."
Sherlock sighed impatiently, a look on his face suggesting they were hopelessly slow on the uptake. "It's blatantly obvious. The pair of you began shifting as soon as I mentioned her name and looked guilty. Even now, you can't seem to make eye contact with me. Special Ops. units tend to make people vanish occasionally. I'm not familiar with your branch, but I can assume the same can be said for you. Where are you taking her and why?" His voice took a step down in pitch, wandering toward menacing.
Jack sighed. "We could tell you that, but it wouldn't end well for anyone."
With those words, he bolted for the stairs with Owen on his heels and Sherlock on the doctors. After three flights of stairs they flew out the door and ran over to the car.
"In, in, in!" Owen shouted as he leapt into the driver seat. Jack made it around to the passengers side and the rest of the crew jumped in the SUV.
Owen fired up the car and skidded away from the curb with a screech.
"Who was that?" Gwen exclaimed from the back.
"Sherlock Holmes," Jack answered as they raced away.
T:S:T:S:T
Sherlock smirked as he memorized the license plate number. How dim could people get?
A/N: And there you have it! Chapter one of Upside Down has come to a close. Did you like it? Even if you didn't, we'd love to hear from you in a review!