So. Hi. I've been absent on both of my other stories. And I originally wrote this to be like 5 sentences on Instagram but it evolved AND IDFK WHAT HAPPENED. And then I revised it. But. Yep so first Wholock crossover. But this was inspired by the wonderful cover art I have up. And I'm terribly sorry to whoever it belongs to, there was no credit when I found it. I don't even remember where I found it. So I didn't mark this as Sherlock/Jack because really Jack would flirt with a chair. Different topic. This might have a companion fic. No probably not. I might tangle it into my doctor/master story thing but none of you would know I'm writing that because I posted that on tumblr AND NOBODY FOLLOWS ME ON TUMBLR DX but anyways this is the story.
Sherlock was sitting on couch, his hands pressed together. He had retreated into his mind palace. His mind had become too cluttered, so he was organizing things, and deleting things that didn't matter.
A rumbling sound came from left of him. Sherlock stepped out of his mind palace and his eyes fluttered open. John was on a date so obviously it wasn't him. Mycroft wouldn't call him, he hadn't done anything atrocious lately. He reached for his phone and saw who was calling him. He rolled his eyes. Lestrade. The DI knew Sherlock had already turned down the case. (It was obvious, even Scotland Yard could figure it out. The woman had pressured her son into killing himself, then she killed her husband because he had been having an affair. A rather tedious case, but that was beside the point.) Sherlock accepted the call and huffed into the device. "Lestrade I know you enjoy annoying me, but I already know what happened-" A snort came from the other side line.
"This is something new Sherlock. Get down here, we're about two blocks away from Baker Street." The inspector told him exactly where they were and hung up with a click. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
John was on a date, so it would take longer for him to get here, and Sherlock really didn't want to wait.
So Sherlock shrugged on his coat and briskly walked to where Lestrade had rolled police tape around asection of road. He stepped under tape where the inspector joined him.
"Freak." Sally nodded to him as he passed.
"What is this about, Grant? I have important things to do." Lestrade shot him a disbelieving look but didn't comment. The older male knew better than to argue with the stubborn detective.
Lestrade's men, and Donavan, were stationed around the perimeter of the police tape. Luckily no one had looked to see what had happened. It was the middle of the night after all.
They stopped by a body lying face up in a puddle of blood. It was male, with a handsome face and a grey vintage coat from somewhere near WWII, which was lying open enough for the detective to see the gunshot wound in his chest. Sherlock turned to Lestrade and raised an eyebrow.
"The Yard can't solve simple murders now? The shooter went that way." Sherlock gestures down an ally. The older male shook his head at the other's impatience and said, "Just wait."
After 23 seconds, the man sat up suddenly gasping for air. Facinating.
He stood and dusted his coat off. "Hate this part of London, always so many cops. And I liked this shirt..." The man trailed off, mumbling to himself. His eyes scanned the area, and when his eyes landed on Sherlock, he gave a charming smile. He stepped forward one hand outstretched, a mischievous smile decorated his features.
"Captain Jack Harkness. And you are?" A faint blush lit up Sherlocks features, but he tried to hide it with a scowl.
"Working." With that the detective pulled John's gun from his coat -just in case- and shot the captain in the forehead. A few heads swiveled at the sound of a gunshot, but most just went about their work, knowing Sherlock wouldn't have shot anyone with Lestrade right there. The man went down hard, and Lestrade moved from Sherlock's side to catch the captain, them lay him gently on the ground.
"Sherlock, you git! What if he can only do that once? You can't just shoot people in the head-" a strange vworp-ing sound filled the street as an even stranger sight confronted Scotland Yard.
A blue police box had materialized beside Jack, and as he took a gasping breath, the door opened.
"Jack, come on! We have to pick up the Ponds!" Another man's voice came from inside the blue object. The captain scowled at the box, and yelled, "Sorry, just recovering from a headshot! I'll be with you in a second." He scowled at the box, and there was a short pause from inside.
"Really?" A head of floppy hair poked out. A bowtie came next as the man rushed to Jack's side. Then the man looked up at Sherlock and Lestrade, both of whom were in shock. He flapped his hands then helped Jack up.
"Oh. Right. You lot, contact UNIT. They'll take care of everything. Just tell them the Doctor said to ask. Right." The man -the Doctor- said as Jack shook him off.
That jarred Sherlock out of his shock. The detective opened his mouth to ask exactly what UNIT was, when, "Hurry up you Martian!" Came from inside the box. It was obviously female and angry. There was a pause, then, "Did you get into trouble?" The voice was disapproving, like a mother scolding her children. The two men exchanged frantic looks and hurried towards the box.
"No Donna, of course not." They disappeared into the blue box, then the captain stuck his head back out. He smiled at Sherlock and said, "Never did get your name." Sherlock raised an eyebrow, and while wondering how three people could fit in a police box, said,
"Sherlock Holmes."
Jack chocked on air. "What. But..." Jack spluttered. "You're supposed to be old! And not look hot!" Jack gestured vaguely. The captain turned his head inside the box. There was a hum from within, and an explanation Sherlock could not make out.
"But..." Jack's featured twisted into a leer, "We should go out for drinks sometime." There was a faint "No!" From inside the box, and suddenly Jack jerked away from the door. "Ouch! Donna! I'm sorry! Just let go of my ear!" The door swung closed and the box dematerialized. There were several momenta of silence before Sherlock straightened and turned on his heel.
"Call me if a case comes up."
Later when John came home from his date, he knew something had happened, but whenever he asked Sherlock would only acquire a faint blush and change the subject.
I'm not thrilled with my ending, it's complete shit to me. But so. Yes I added Donna be-fucking-cause she's one of my favorites. And yes, I screwed up the timelines. That is Matt, but I wanted to because. (I don't have a valid reason.) But this is me saying bye till next time. I haven't given you guys a cookie in a long time... Here. Have a cookie. (::) (::) (::) ~ Kori