This is just a silly little one-shot for wholock. Hope you enjoy.
Sherlock watched as John walked away from the cemitary. He wanted to go after him, tell him that he was alive, and continue solving mysteries. But that would endanger his life, and that was the last thing Sherlock wanted to do. He turned around and walked away. The dew covered grass shimmered ever so slightly in the sunlight. John had once told Sherlock how much he liked dew covered grass, but of course Sherlock never understood why, and he never would. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at the blue police box. The last time he had seen this thing was back when he jumped off the roof. It had saved his life. But after he landed inside he fell unconsious. He narrowed his eyes. Why was it here now? He blinked in slight surprise as the doors opened. Without a moment hesitation Sherlock walked inside. He heard the snapping of fingers and the doors closed behind him.
"Sherlock! It's you!" came a cheery voice. Sherlock watched as a man wearing a tweed jacket and a red bow-tie ran over to him. How did he know his name? He had never met this man before in his life. As the man stopped a mere foot away from him Sherlock took a small step back. The man looked him over with an over-joyed look on his face. "My how you've grown! Not the same little boy we were all those years ago now are we? Oh, the adventures we had! Never forget those, of course you wouldn't reconize me now, I've changed, a whole lot actually. I.." the man stopped as he looked at Sherlock's expression. His face fell into slight sadness. "You dont remember me, do you?" Sherlock shook his head.
"I have never met you in my entire life," Sherlock said taking another step back. The man stood a step back away from him before turning and walking away. Sherlock watched in silence as the man pulled different levers and the 'box' made a funny whooshing noise. Sherlock walked up the steps and onto the raised glass platform where the man stood. "What are you doing?" The man looked over at Sherlock.
"Showing you a bit of the past," he answered. "Stick with me, don't talk to people, and don't mess anything up. We're only looking." The whooshing stopped. "Come on, Sherlock." The man walked down the steps and opened the doors. Sherlock followed him silently out the door. Sherlock looked around, confused. He was back home. No, not the flat, his house from when he was a kid. The Holmes Mansion, very famous back in the day. Not only that but it was nighttime, and pouring down rain. The man shushed him quietly and they walked into the yard. Sherlock followed him to the back of the house and they looked in through the window of had once been Sherlock's bedroom.
"Go away, Mycroft!" a young Sherlock hissed. Sherlock blinked at the sight of his younger self. The door shut as someone left, most likely the young Mycroft, and Sherlock jumped down onto his bed. Sherlock thought he heard the man telling him something about this being his second visit, but he wasn't paying attention. He was still surprised they were in the past. He decided to question him later, it was best he saw what he was brought here to see first. There was a bright light and a loud noise. The young Sherlock jumped to his feet and opened the window. The man pulled Sherlock by the jacket into the shadows so that they weren't seen.
A man went in through the window and it was shut. The man and Sherlock looked through the other window and watched. Inside stood a very tall man that wore a long jacket, a blue tie, and was soaking wet. The young Sherlock sat back down on his bed and smiled at the man. The man turned to him and smiled a bit at the boy as he took his jacket off and lay it over a chair to dry. He knelt down in front of Sherlock and his expression changed to sadness.
"Sherlock," the man inside the room said. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't save your sister." Sherlock blinked. He remember his sister had been murdered by a man when she was sixteen, he was caught but this didn't make Sherlock any happier about it. The young Sherlock looked down at his lap. "I'm sorry, I tried, but there was nothing I could do."
"It's ok," the young Sherlock said with a smile. "You tried, and that's what counts." The man smiled at the young Sherlock and put a hand on his shoulder. "Will you take me with you this time?" The man shook his head.
"No, I'm 'fraid not kiddo," the man said. Sherlock sighed and looked down. The man jumped to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and jumped into the shadows. The door flung open and Sherlock's father stepped in. Sherlock felt his heart stopped and his body went cold. Young Sherlock backed up against the wall and shook in fear.
"Sherlock!" his father screamed. "Why aren't you with your sister? You worthless brat, if you had gone with her she would've taken a different rout!" Sherlock ducked out of sight so he didn't have to watch, but the sound of the slap was heard clearly by him despite the thick wall between them. "Damn you!" The door slammed shut. The man tapped Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock looked over the rim of the window. Inside the man had dropped his coat on the floor and wrapped the young Sherlock up in his arms. Sherlock narrowed his eyes in thought. Somehow he remembered this slightly, but he remembered it not being a real person, it was a figment of his imagination as he recalled.
"Please, take me with you, please," the young Sherlock said. The man closed his eyes and held the young Sherlock's head against his chest. There was a long moment of silence as the man thought about it. "Please, Doctor. Don't leave me here with them, please." The man looked down at the young Sherlock he held in his arms.
"Sherlock, Sherlock look at me," the man said. Young Sherlock looked up at the man holding him and wiped away his tears with his sleeve. "I want to take you with me, I do. I'd take you away from here and never take you back. But I can't, it's too dangerous. You know that, remember?" The young Sherlock nodded. Sherlock looked over as the man tapped his shoulder. He nodded away toward the box and walked away. Sherlock glanced back at the past for a moment before following behind him.
"What the hell just happened back there?" Sherlock demanded as the door shut behind them. The man was silent as he removed his jacket and hung it over the railing. "Who was that, and who the hell are you?" Sherlock put his coat next to his with a force brought out by anger. The man looked over at Sherlock, who was glaring at him. Why had he made him watch that? "Answer me goddamn it!" The man sighed and pulled the same levers. The box made that whooshing noise again and he leaned up against the railing.
"As you already guessed I took you to the past, your past," the man told him. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. The man sighed again. "When you were five I saved you from weeping angels. I took you with me to see two planets, after that I took you home and left shortly afterwards. A year later I came back to see you and told you that I couldn't save your sister. Which is what you just saw. When you were seven I saved you when your house burnt down to the ground. I also saved Mycroft because you threatened to kill me if I didn't." Sherlock scoffed at this. He hated Mycroft with all his heart, why would he have cared if he burned to death?
"You mean to tell me that you knew me as a kid, and I don't remember?" The man nodded. "And you are?"
"I'm the Doctor," he said.
"You don't even look like him!" Sherlock exclaimed in anger.
"Well, of course not, I regenerated. I changed faces, all very complicated I assure you," the Doctor told him. Sherlock growled and sat down in the chair. The Doctor sighed and looked at the ground. Sherlock looked up at him. This was insane. But once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remained no matter how improbable must be true.
Well, there you have it. Hope you enjoy! Please review and thanks for reading!
Based off the video The Fall by Liisakee on youtube.