A/N Hi guys! Haven't posted here in a while so it's good to be back! My cousin and I are writing this SUPERWHOLOCK fanfiction which will probably span around 4 chapters. If you like, please review and tell us what you think, if you hate, please review and tell us what you think
Here we go!
John frowned as his eyes scanned the title of the newspaper article, 'PSCHOTIC KILLER DUO ON THE LOOSE'. Folding it over across his arm he called out to Sherlock. The detective had been in a strange crouching position for the majority of the afternoon, a focused look of intense concentration on his face.
"Sherlock?" He received no response from the other man, but this was hardly surprising. John tried again, "Sherlock, I'm pregnant." He deadpanned.
Sherlock's head snapped up and he turned quicker than John had ever seen him move to face him with a confused expression, as though John was an even bigger idiot than he'd previously guessed, "That's completely absurd. I knew you weren't of high intellect, John, but I assumed you'd know about basic human anatomy at least…"
"What? No! I was joking." John waved the newspaper for emphasis, "Remember the Winchesters? It was a big case a couple of years ago before they were killed in an explosion?"
"Yes, John. I remember how completely convenient that was. Highly convenient…." He muttered the last part, looking as though he was about to resume his earlier state of concentration.
Aware he was about to lose his audience, John carried on, "They're alive! And they just killed a man, look." He pointed to the small, grainy picture, evidently taken from some CCTV footage, "It says here that they followed a man to a car park, attacked him and chopped off his head with a machete. It was all caught on CCTV but the police can't find them."
Sherlock brought both his hands round onto the arm rests and pushed himself into a standing position, leaping from the chair to John and grabbing the paper from John who responded with an indignant, "Hey!"
The detective's face seemed to light up as he read the article, "The Winchesters! The serial killers." He frowned for a moment, "but beheading people in broad daylight? That doesn't sound like their sort of thing at all… So perhaps they're evolving. Not been noticed for years? That's enough to make anyone cocky. So they decided to take things one step further and that's where they made their mistake." Sherlock grinned, "They're extremely hard to catch, however. I doubt it will be long before they call in… a professional."
"What do you mean by a professional?" John snatched back the newspaper. There was a pause in which Sherlock stared at John pointedly, "Oh, you mean you? Sherlock, I doubt that they'd-"
Ring, ring.
Ring, ring.
The sound of the phone cut John off, and he stared at in disbelief.
"Of course I mean me." Sherlock smiled again and picked up the phone.
"You are unbelievable." John sighed, although he was slightly amused, and sank into the armchair that Sherlock had just vacated, turning to the next page in the newspaper. He could hear Sherlock in the background.
"Yes, I just heard. Quite how the police managed not to notice that their most wanted criminals were loose is beyond me… Okay, yes, yes! I know exactly who they are, please skip to the part that is of remote importance… Okay… Interesting… What? No, I can't possibly out to America!... No, no, It's fine. I'll send my best man over."
At this, John stopped reading, "Sherlock, what are you doing?" he stood and marched towards his friend, who held the phone out of reach easily and ran to the other side of the room.
Sensing he was probably about to be tackled to the ground, Sherlock finished the call with a, "sorry, I really must go now." He quickly pressed the 'end call' button.
"Sherlock! I can't go to America!" John protested.
"Yes you can! They're booking you a flight as we speak…" he moved away from John.
"Why can't you come?" John asked exasperatedly.
"Well, one of us has to stay in London, and it doesn't make sense sending the superior brain all the way over to other side of the world just to catch a couple of criminals." Sherlock perched on the armchair again.
Realising that he probably couldn't win the argument, John sighed, resigned. He asked, "When do I leave, then?"
"One hour. I'll call you a cab to the airport whilst you pack."
John avoided cursing loudly by storming into his bedroom. He supposed it would probably be a sort of holiday, anyway. It would be difficult to be further away from Sherlock than the other side of the planet. What could be more hectic than his life in London?
6 days later
"We have almost succeeded. Our plan is going even better than we ever anticipated."
"Yes, it seems that we've as good as won. There are, however, issues that we must address that could interfere…"
The Doctor leant against the extremely classy oak door of the highly confidential government building, evidently used to hold meetings, pressing his ear against it. For a confidential government building, it had been pretty easy to gain access. He'd simply parked his TARDIS in a store cupboard and strolled over to the most interesting looking door. The loud voices of people who did not think they could be heard permeated through the wood.
"Like what?"
"Like Sherlock Holmes. He has to be eliminated. We can't risk him getting in the way of our plans."
"You think he's that much of a threat?"
"I do. We can't risk anything."
"Very well sir. I'll make arrangements to get rid of him."
"Good."
They were walking towards the door before The Doctor could move and so fell forwards into the room, landing on the ground next to where they stood.
A short, slightly awkward pause passed before The Doctor stood, brushing himself off. He smiled cheerfully and held out a hand to shake," Hello! This is all a bit awkward… I was looking for the toilet?"
The two men looked the opposite of convinced. Smart, expensive suits, long ties and neatly styled hair suggested they were fairly important in the government, important enough to want to keep a good appearance. A menacing air surrounded them.
The shorter of the two stepped forward, "No-one is supposed to be in here."
"Yes." The doctor agreed, the cheerful smile still on his face, "I think I just got a bit lost. I'll be going then?" he strode back towards the door, but was stopped when an iron grip clutched him shoulder.
"You're not going anywhere." He growled. He swung his fist forward but his target ducked down easily. The man yelled in rage and as he and his partner made their way forward The Doctor was horrified to see their eyes flick to dark, soulless black.
"Weeeell I think I am." The Doctor detangled himself from the small suited man who had more strength than would be expected from a small, physically unintimidating man. Strength that was almost superhuman.
These men were demons.
He'd come across them before, but their plotting sounded as though it was far bigger than just two demons. How much more of the government were they in control of?
He needed a professional.
With a quick wave, he grinned and waved," goodbye!" before sprinting off down the corridor.
Footsteps thundered on the polished floor behind him, but The Doctor already had a head start. He swung himself round to take on the staircase, using two or three steps at a time in leaps before hitting the bottom and carrying on, the pursuers followed metres behind him.
Throwing open the store cupboard, The Doctor smiled in relief to see his TARDIS and quickly shut himself inside, ignoring the pounding of hell creatures on his door as he set the destination.
He needed to save Sherlock Holmes.
But first, he had to pay a quick visit to the Winchesters.
This was going to be brilliant.
John relaxed on a park bench, enjoying the scenery and the pleasant breeze that surrounded him in the warm summer sunlight. He sipped a tea, and although he had realised quickly after his arrival in Kansas that the tea they had to offer in America was rubbish, he still felt disappointed at its taste. He missed the kettle at his London flat.
It had not taken long for them to catch the Winchesters; only about 3 days had been spent. John had simply given Sherlock all the information via video call and the detective had been able to work out all the possible places that they could be as it was apparently 'obvious' that they'd be hiding in some kind of motel. John enjoyed the break, however, and although he missed the tea he definitely didn't miss Sherlock and his arrogant way of speaking. The FBI had a lot of interesting things for him to look at.
Despite this, he did miss the action just a little bit.
The small man had just got comfortable when the wind seemed to pick up, becoming so strong that some nearby trees even started to bend. A strange whooshing noise filled the air and John stood, shielding his eyes against the sun as a blue shape started to materialise in front of him.
No. That was impossible. Things don't just appear; you don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to know that.
But the evidence was right in front of him.
A blue Police Box.
In the middle of Lawrence, Kansas in America for god's sake!
John was about to approach the box when the doors opened and a man stepped out. He wore a long coat not unlike the one Sherlock liked to wear and ambled toward John purposefully.
"John Watson?"
"Yes, er, who are you and can you please tell me what the hell is going on?" John was unnerved at the impossible situation that had been presented to him.
"Oh, yes, I'm the Doctor and you need to come with me." He spoke quickly, all the while motioning for John to follow.
"I'm not coming with you until you explain to me what was happening." There was no mistaking the cold tone to John's voice; he was not a man who could be ordered around.
The Doctor was impatient, "I don't have time to chat. Your friend Sherlock is going to be dead if you don't help me, and the two men you put in jail are innocent. Is that enough to be going on with?"
The jail cell stank of mould, sweat and a few other things too terrible to even acknowledge. Only a few metres was available to walk around in, meaning that Dean had been pacing for that past few hours, much to the annoyance of Sam who was laying on the bed staring at the ceiling and listening to the steady drip of a nearby faucet. Aside from the bed, there was a toilet and a sink that held the mystery of when they had been cleaned. Marks from dried sweat and the strong smell of puke wafted from the blanket on the bed which was probably only washed after at least every twenty uses.
Sam didn't know what they could possibly do.
They were, after all, the Winchesters and now they were caught, there was no way they'd easily let them escape.
"Sammy, this sucks." Dean moaned for about the fifteenth time since they'd been locked in the cell. They had been told that they would be transferred to a jail later that day.
"I know." Sam replied, the same response he'd given each time.
He'd made the same point several times already, but still Dean complained, "We were helping, too! That vamp would've killed loads of people if we hadn't 've stepped in."
"We can't exactly use that point, they'll never believe us."
"I just want some pie, Sam."
"Dean, you can't have any pie."
"Sammy, this sucks."
A police officer walked into the room that contained the cell. The brothers noticed the way he pulled his cap over his eyes suspiciously and immediately stood up; ready to face any threat they might be faced with.
It soon became apparent, though, that he wasn't there to kill them as he started to fiddle with the locks, jamming a key into the door and opening it quietly.
"Come on!"
The guy was British, and with a jolt Sam realised that it was the same guy that had helped them to be caught, "but you're…"
"Do you want to go to jail or not? I'm going to get you out of here!"
Sam was about to protest further when Dean piped up from behind him, "Do as the guy says, Sam. I want outta this dump!"
Reluctantly, Sam followed the man from the room, Dean at the back of the small group. "How are you going to do this?" Sam asked, unconvinced of how successful this was going to be.
The man pointed, "We're parked here."
Sam and Dean found themselves looking at a blue Police Box that stood conspicuously at the end of the hall.
A man opened the door from the inside, gesturing hurriedly from them to join them, "Hurry up!" Sam noted that he was also British.
He also noted that the box appeared to be able to fit more than it should.
They had faced weird before, but still it made Sam sigh.
What were they getting themselves into?
A/N Thanks for reading! Reviews would be highly appreciated