Hello all,

I am taking a short break from my usual line of Sherlock in Potterverse to allow me time to write the next one, and have decided to write some drabbles of Sherlock in the Whoverse. They will involve Sherlock meeting various companions of the Doctor.

I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

First Contact

The press room was too full for comfort, crammed with journalists from every paper under the sun, all trying to scoop the headline that the great Sherlock Holmes was alive. John cowered in the corner as the photographers did their stuff. Every so often, people would crane their heads around to stare at him, the bloke who had believed the lie. John had never felt stupider.

At last it was nearly over, but the journalists had hundreds of questions. Questions about his fall, his survival, his travels in the last three years. One woman was remarkably persistent, her constant cries of 'Mr Holmes' drowning out the others. John thought she was incredibly annoying, but Sherlock kept frowning at her with a curious expression, like she was someone he just couldn't place.

"Last questions now!" called Lestrade. Sherlock gave another placating answer to another tedious question, not paying much attention to what he was saying. Then his face lit up with realisation.

"Of course," he cried. "Sarah Jane Smith!"

The brunette looked confused.

"Have we met?"

"Not in person, but I would like a word. Outside?"

She nodded, as the journalists started to leave, buzzing about deadlines and scoops and other nonsense. John followed Sherlock out the building, puzzled. How did he know this woman?"

On the street outside Scotland Yard they found the woman waiting with a blonde girl.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Yes…" Sherlock seemed unsure of how to proceed. "I'm sorry, I don't think I properly introduced myself, I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes, I know."

"I saw your photograph every day for three years, I took your room, I hope you don't mind. I joined not long after you left, your replacement, if you like."

"What room?"

"I believe we have a mutual doctor."

John was once more clueless. He had never met this Sarah woman. The journalist's eyes, however, had lit up. Soon they were engaged in a swift conversation that John couldn't understand.

"You travelled with the doctor?"

"Yeah, it was about a decade ago now."

"What did he look like?"

"Brown curly hair, dopey grin, funny hat…" he thought a moment. "Really long stripy scarf."

"But that's the same doctor I travelled with!"

"I know. I expect he's regenerated since."

"Yes, half a dozen times. Last I saw him he wore a tweed jacket and a bow-tie."

"Sounds like him. You saw him again?"

"Yes, I still do occasionally. This is my daughter, Sky."

"A fleshkind?" asked Sherlock, intrigued.

"What?" said the girl sharply, brown eyes scouring them. "How did you guess?"

"I never guess."

"Do you want to come back to mine? We could have tea."

"Yes, I'd like that," said Sherlock. He turned to John. "You'll be alright getting home, won't you? Do you need some cab money?"

"I'm sure Dr Watson can come too."

"No," said Sherlock firmly. "I'm sorry, John, but there's too much to explain, I'll tell you about it tonight."

John nodded, defeated already. He was too tired to argue.

"It's okay," he yawned. "I gotta go anyway, get some sleep…"

Sherlock handed him some cash and he wandered off down the street.

XXX

John sat in his armchair, struggling to comprehend what Sherlock had told him. His ears thought that Sherlock had muttered something about space travel and time travel and an alien called the Doctor, but his brain was protesting that it just wasn't possible. At first he had intended to write it off as one of his wild tales, but somehow Sarah Jane Smith had become an integral part in their lives. She turned up at least once a week, sometimes with her daughter to discuss what Sherlock called 'the good old days'. Sometimes she reported their cases in the newspapers. Sometimes she called Sherlock for help with cases of her own.

She had powerful friends. Sherlock talked of an organisation called UNIT, and Miss Smith would talk of her involvement, and told stories of how it began. She talked of a 'brigadier', and was amazed when Sherlock was familiar with him, but was then forced to reveal that he had died recently. When she said that, Sherlock… he looked so crushed. John hadn't seen such a display of emotion since Irene Adler had faked her death.

He was worried, but Miss Smith was a good influence. Sherlock became calmer, and he rarely complained of boredom. He started to eat more regularly, and slept better. John was pushed a little to the side-lines, but he had begun to move on in the three years that Sherlock was 'dead', and had no intentions of stopping. He had a new job, his own flat, and Mary, his first truly steady girlfriend. He still worried about Sherlock, but not so much.

Then he met Miss Smith's son, and was immediately terrified. There was a possibility that he was even smarter than Sherlock. Sherlock of course, denied this, claiming that they were equally matched.

John just looked on smugly as the scrabble score became 62-0.

Luke Smith was very good for Sherlock Holmes.