Chiselled words, golden in black granite sat under a date of birth and death. A shadow cast over the words. A shadow that lead to a pair of black shoes, jeans and a buttoned up shirt.
"Why do I always come here?" came from the shadow's mouth. "When I came back from the war, I needed something, a reason to live. You were that reason. I know it's been so long, 6 months," John swallowed his tears. "And you're still dead."
He was still angry, angry at the lies. All of the lies, the ones the press had posthumously created about the man and the lies he told John himself. All these months and he still didn't believe them. Not many people knew the true man, but Dr. John Watson felt he did. He knew the true Sherlock Holmes.
"The flat's still fine," he muttered, talking to the grave as if it had a pulse. "Still get visitors; they think I can do it without you Sherlock. I can't." Watson had run out of words for this visit. He had taken so many visits to the grave, given so many words to it, more he had given to anyone else in recent times, it was the only place he felt at ease, that flat had been haunting him now. Still nowhere near to accepting the truth John turned to head home, he had made a promise with Ms. Hudson he would spend less time there. In the main London road John hailed a cab and began what he thought would be an ordinary journey home.
"Baker Street please," he muttered. He couldn't fully see his driver, his head being covered by the back of the seat but John failed to care, he knew from past experience that you shouldn't let cab drivers all blur into one, but since Sherlock's death most things in his life blurred to one.
"You don't look how I imagined." The cabbie said without the usual cockney voice of a cabbie, sounding as if it came from a higher class. John looked in confusion up to see a pair of eyes in the rear view mirror, sunken eyes under a heavy brow.
"Sorry, what?" John was confused. Still looking at the eyes, the driver must have noticed due to the fact he rearranged it so it presented to John his chest area. John was perplexed by this driver and seeing more of him in the mirror set more questions. Why did this man say that? What did he mean by "How he imagined"? Yet the last question, the question that really got to John the most came from seeing the cabbies clothes.
"What kind of cabbie wears a bow tie?"
The entire vehicle came to a stop. Due partially to traffic, partially to rage.
"A cool cabbie," was his surprisingly quite reply.
"Now tell me, your name?" asked the driver. John went along with the driver's game; he didn't seem the killing type.
"My name is doctor…"
"One moment!" the driver interrupted. "I never get to say this," the cabbie cleared his throat.
"Doctor who?"
"Dr. John Watson,"
"Ah ha so it is you brilliant!" the driver completely turned around in his seat. Revealing his full thin, long face, with a fringe of brown hair covering a majority of it. "Hello Watson I'm the…"
"The road!" John shouted, more paranoid about the crazed driver not looking at the road.
"What? Oh no it'll be fine cruise control cab," at that moment the cab came to a crashing halt as the two inside tumbled around within. "Okay, maybe that hasn't been invented yet," the driver mumbled into an air bag.
"Who the hell are you!?" John shouted his back of the floor of the cab and his legs resting on the seats. Getting out of his seat the driver then opened a door for John to get out.
"Come along Watson!" he said sticking his hand out to help John up. John took it and left the cab, leaving it wrapped around the lamp post what struck it in the busy London street.
Running into an alley they stopped.
"What on Earth is going on!?" John shouted at the man. "You just left a destroyed London taxi in the middle of the street!"
"Oh it wasn't mine anyway," the man did not seem too bothered.
"The police? You can't do something like that in broad day light in one of the biggest cities in the world and expect not to go unnoticed!"
"Watson calm, we won't be here much longer anyway,"
"And stop calling me Watson, only one person has ever called me that and that was…"
"Sherlock Holmes," the driver finished.
"John Watson, hello, I am the Doctor." The old Time Lord smiled.
John took a better look at him. He had a face that mixed young excitement with old wisdom, and dressed in tweed, a bowtie and braces. He was quite unlike anyone John had ever seen before, but something all made sense now; he just needed to see one more thing, one more... blue thing.
"Come along John, I left her somewhere here," the Doctor lead the way. "Ah here she is!"
Within one of the dark alley ways of London, even John who was taught so much about the shadier side of London from his friend didn't quite know where they were, stood a blue box. It had windows, a door and a light hung a top it. This was the evidence John was looking for.
"John this is my…"
"TARDIS, this is the TARDIS."
The Doctor gave him a confused look. "Go on…"
"You spend enough time on the internet you read about you. The Doctor and his time machine, saving the world but without our knowledge. The man with no name. Few believe in you though. Even Sherlock didn't, we had a few people come with stories about you, Sherlock dismissed them all as rubbish, and you're real."
The Doctor smiled his smile. "John, it takes a lot to keep my attention, to keep me grounded in the same time for more then a day, and well you and Sherlock kept me thrilled. For a man reaching 1000, that's impressive." He let John take in the 1000 comment. "This last case of yours, with Moriarty I have been keeping a close eye on and well." The Doctor put his hand on John's should and put his mouth close to his ear. "I'm sorry."
"You can bring him back can't you? I've read the stories; go back in time and save him!"
"John it's not as easy as that,"
"Then why have you come for me!?" John's voice was breaking.
"I've come to give you my respects, I can't bring him back for you, but I can show you him."
"What do you mean?"
"I can take you to his past; show you him as a child, a walk through of his life, the respect he deserves. It's your choice if you want to come or not."
There was silence between the two of them. Then John marched, like he did in the army so many times, he marched to the door of the blue box and waited, the Doctor had his answer.
Running behind John the Doctor reached the door to and fumbled through his pocket for the key to his home. A twist in the lock and the Doctor held the door a jar, not open enough for John to see inside.
The Doctor smiled at his new companion "John, you thought Sherlock was amazing, just wait till you get a load of me!" He exclaimed as he open fully the TARDIS door.