The Three of Them
Just once in the history of the universe, the three most brilliant minds ever to reach a logical conclusion met. Whether it was mere chance and coincidence, or if Fate had guided each of them that day, the world will never know. The only thing that is certain is that the world will never be the same again.
That morning, Catherine Jenkins woke up exactly two minutes before her alarm clock went off. She sighed, closed her eyes, and waited for the horrid beeping noise that was destined to come. When it did, she sighed even louder, and got out of bed, regretting that she had stayed up so late. But what choice did she have? When inspiration struck, the aspiring author had no choice but to grab her laptop and comforter and spend the next two hours sitting on the couch in her small apartment typing, no matter how late, or early, it was.
She rubbed her eyes as she slipped her feet into her flip-flops and then went to the kitchen to fix herself some breakfast. While she brewed herself a cup of Earl Grey tea, she dropped three small pellets into the gold fish bowl where her one pet swam back and forth, and sometimes up and down. Next to the small aquarium sat a picture of a white tiger, basking in sunshine in the forest of some distant country.
The bookshelf on which the fish tank stood contained many pictures of beautiful gardens, exotic landscapes, and fairy tale castles. It also contained books, of course, which flowed over onto the floor, which then climbed in stacks to the coffee table, which further spilled to the chair, and then flopped onto the end table next to the couch. Here lay the latest works that Catherine was reading, and it was one of these that she plucked from its resting place and set next to her messenger bag as she prepared for another day at work. Don't want to be late.
She opened the front door and stepped out onto the street, the sounds of morning traffic surrounding her, engulfing her, and serenading her as she made her way down the sidewalk, past small cheese shops, tea houses, and newspaper stands. It had been almost a year since she moved to Oxford, and her morning walk to her job at the publishing house, though long, was still one of the best parts of her day. The air of Oxford was invigorating, and the energy of the continual movement of people was intoxicating, not to mention constantly listening to the beautiful British language.
Catherine's route was so familiar to her, that she was confident enough to read as she walked down that relatively quiet sidewalk. It had become one of her happy habits- reading on the way to work. Today, she flipped through the pages of one of her British murder mystery novels, until finding her place. Once she did, her feet stepped off the sidewalk and into a British manor house, where a shot was just heard, followed by a scream.
So engrossed was she in the story unfolding before her that she did not see that she herself was headed for her own small disaster. A young man, handsome, tall, and slender, in a long brown trench coat, holding a small, thin, metallic-looking tool, from which strange electrical noises emanated, was barreling towards her down the sidewalk, and gaining speed. From Catherine's left, coming down a side street, was another young man, equally handsome, tall, and slender, but with a shorter black coat and a scarf. He was walking towards her quickly, while typing on his extremely advanced phone.
The detective had just opened the door and seen the body lying limp and bloody across the floor when suddenly Catherine was pushed out of the manor house and knocked onto the sidewalk. She looked up at the two men, staring down at her. The one in the brown coat smiled and said, "I'm so sorry." The one in the black coat simply stared.
Finally he said, "My apologies, ma'am."
"Oh, it's okay," Catherine replied.
He offered his hand to her as he said, "Sherlock Holmes."
"Yes, I know who you are," she answered, accepting his hand and pulling herself up. She brushed herself off and picked up her book, dusting it off carefully.
"I'm the Doctor," said the man in brown.
"Obviously," replied Sherlock, rolling his eyes slightly as he handed Catherine's messenger bag to her. "However, it's a pleasure to meet you finally. I follow your work very closely." He extended his hand to the Doctor, who shook it warmly.
"Likewise," he replied. Then turning to Catherine, he pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket, pushed them onto his nose and asked, "Who are you exactly?"
"I'm-" Catherine began, but Sherlock cut her off.
"American, for starters. Midwestern by the accent. The style and wear of your shoes says that you've been here long and are not a tourist, which is also clear from your lack of camera, blue jeans, fanny pack, and frankly deplorable manners."
"Thank you," Catherine interjected.
"Your clothes are neat," Sherlock continued, ignoring her. "Feminine, modest, yet trendy, which means college graduate, well traveled, and now a working girl. The book you are reading isn't a best seller or on Oprah's reading list, so you must have studied literature. That, along with the weight and size of your bag, says that you work at the publishing house because that bag is specially designed for carrying manuscripts. Finally, the fact that you know who I am tells me that you must be someone of some intellectual capabilities. Have I missed anything? I don't think so."
"Brilliant," the Doctor exclaimed. "You're Catherine Jenkins!"
"Yes," Catherine answered, quite surprised.
"Who?" Sherlock asked him, quite confused.
"Catherine Jenkins," the Doctor repeated. "She's the one who wrote the thesis about Watson. You must have read it."
"Ah, yes. My 'sidekick' and 'translator.' Watson was flattered."
"Thank you," Catherine answered timidly.
"You know," the Doctor said to her. "I met your cousin, Jenny, in Germany a few years back."
"You what?"
"Yes, we met in Hamburg, lovely place."
"What were you doing in Hamburg?" Catherine asked.
"Actually, that's classified," the Doctor replied. "Well, unofficially classified. Well, top-secret. Well, just pretty hush-hush."
"Don't be ridiculous, everyone knows about the Hamburg train incident," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes once again.
"Hamburg train incident?" Catherine repeated. Jenny has a lot of explaining to do…
"Nazis, aliens, Captain America, and a dachshund, if I remember correctly. Open and shut case," Sherlock stated quickly, waving his hand. "The question is: Doctor, what are you doing here?"
"Looking for you. There's something going on at the Bodleian and I knew you'd be the one to ask about it. It's just sheer luck that you've turned up, too, Catherine! I've heard so much about you."
"Vashta Narada?" asked Sherlock.
"No, something quite different. It's something… Well, have either of you been to the Bodleian recently?"
"I was there yesterday evening," answered Catherine. "Everything seemed fine to me."
"You didn't happen to go into the Ancient History section, did you?"
"Um, no. I was in Medieval History, actually."
"It's all online, anyway," Sherlock said below his breath.
"Some people like the smell of books," the Doctor said, without looking at him.
"Well, what exactly is happening in Ancient History?" Sherlock asked.
"Nothing," Catherine replied, smiling. They both stared at her. "That's why it's history," she explained. They continued to stare. "Sorry, bad joke," she said, reddening.
"As I was saying," Sherlock began.
"Why don't you just come with me and I'll show you," the Doctor suggested.
Together, the three of them made their way towards the library that each of them knew so well. Along the way, the Doctor and Sherlock kept up a steady stream of affable talk while Catherine walked along in silence, soaking up the sheer joy of listening to such a conversation. They stopped talking when they entered the library, out of reverence and respect for the sea of knowledge within those walls. After entering the Bodleian, they went directly to the Ancient History section. There were shelves of books with a few small round tables and chairs near them.
The Doctor pulled a book off of one of the shelves and opened it to a random page, showing it to his companions. Sherlock and Catherine stared in amazement at the blank pages before them.
"Empty?" Catherine asked in a whisper.
"The entire book," the Doctor answered with a nod, dropping it emphatically on the nearest table.
"How many others are like that?" Sherlock asked.
"About half of them. I can't find a pattern or anything, except that they're all about the Roman Empire. I'm working on how, but it's slow going."
"What have you got so far?" Sherlock asked, pulling out his magnifying glass, and examining the book more thoroughly.
"It can't be any kind of technology. No technology could simply remove ink from a page or cover it up without leaving markings. And besides, what would be the point of doing that?"
"To prevent others from accessing that same information," Sherlock said, still pouring over the blank pages in front of him. "Or to be able to retain the information for oneself without lugging around a lot of books."
"Isn't that what a Kindle is for?" Catherine asked with a smile.
"Nooks are better," Sherlock quipped. He took off his scarf and coat and draped them over a nearby chair. He then unbuttoned his suit coat and reached for a book off the closest shelf.
"And why Ancient Rome? What's so special about that?" Catherine wondered aloud, looking at the various books all around her.
"What's so special about the Roman Empire?" Sherlock asked mockingly, looking up at her. "It's only the most powerful entity ever to be created by human hands. Why wouldn't one read about the Roman Empire."
"Well, I guess it's just not what I would have chosen," Catherine answered defensively, but with a challenging tone in her voice.
The Doctor raised his eyebrows, let out a low whistle and turned down the next aisle of books, pausing now and then to take one off the shelf and flip through the pages.
"And, pray tell, what would you have chosen" Sherlock asked in his 'I'm talking to an idiot child' tone of voice.
"Well, something entertaining, amusing, thought-provoking, and-" she paused, reddening.
"And what?" the Doctor prompted, peaking his head over the book shelf so that just his hair and glasses were visible.
"Romantic," Catherine admitted. She reached for a book and opened it.
"So our suspect is obviously not you," Sherlock stated, putting his hands together and resting his chin on them. "He's not after entertainment. What does he want?"
"Doctor," Catherine asked, peaking around the shelf. "What were you looking for when you discovered the empty books."
"Oh, nothing really. I just wanted to see if any of them mentioned me in connection with the David," he replied, taking off his coat and tossing it over the back of a chair.
"The David?" Sherlock asked, looking over the shelf.
"Well, I kinda… had a hand in it," the Doctor said, waving his hand dismissively. "What I want to know now, though, is who did this, and why, and how, and can it be undone, and is anyone else hungry."
Sherlock groaned and returned to searching for more empty books on his side of the shelf.
"Sherlock does have a point," Catherine said thoughtfully. "Whoever did do this is not looking for entertainment. Ancient Rome was the power of its time. They ruled almost all of the known world."
"I've got something new," Sherlock announced. The Doctor and Catherine quickly went to him. He was holding a copy of The Fall of the Roman Empire. "Completely intact," he said. He turned it to them and they saw in astonishment the words on the pages.
"So," the Doctor began. "They want information about the Roman Empire, but not what happened to it. What's up with that? This thing, whatever it is, is taking information, storing it somehow, preventing others from accessing it, and the information they want is about a group of people who conquered and controlled- Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I'm so dumb! Of course, it's obvious!"
"What is?" Sherlock said.
"Wow, that's probably the first time you've ever had to ask that," Catherine said.
"You're probably right," the Doctor said, smiling playfully.
"Will you just shut up and tell me what's going on?" Sherlock practically shouted.
Suddenly the library was filled with the sound of people shushing them.
"Okay," the Doctor continued in a whisper. "It's the Seekers."
"The Seekers," Catherine and Sherlock repeated, also whispering.
"Come with me," the Doctor said, turning and walking towards the exit. Catherine and Sherlock followed him out.
Once they got outside, the Doctor said, "I can't stand being quiet in there. C'mon. We're going somewhere where we can be loud."
"What did you have in mind?" Sherlock asked, glancing at Catherine. "An American hamburger joint?"
Catherine maintained a dignified silence and a stoic expression.
"We're going to the TARDIS," the Doctor replied.
They turned a corner, down an alley, and there, standing next to a garbage dumpster, was the TARDIS, as blue and boxy as anyone could have wished. The Doctor went up to it, put the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door. Then he turned to them. "Well, you don't need to just stand there gaping, you know, it's very uncooth. Come in!"
Catherine put her hand on her chest, feeling her rushing heart beat. This is totally amazing. She stepped up to it and put her hand on the blue door, feeling the wood. She took another step, and stood inside the TARDIS, looking around herself in astonishment and disbelief.
"Time and relative dimension in space," she heard Sherlock say, standing next to her.
She turned to look at him, and he looked at her. "It's bigger on the inside," they said together.
"Yes, yes, yes, I think we all know that already," the Doctor said as he ran around the center console, pushing buttons and flipping knobs. "Let's not get distracted and off-topic. We were talking about the Seekers."
"Yes, what are they?" Sherlock asked, walking slowly up the ramp, running his hand enjoyably along the railing.
"They are from the planet Ipso, and they want nothing more than to take over the human race."
"Why humans?" Catherine asked, still standing by the door, taking in the columns, the console, everything about the TARDIS.
"Sorry, but every species in all of reality knows that next to the Ood, the easiest race to take over and rule resides solely on planet Earth. Now, the Seekers, they have this uncanny ability to actually consume information. They take it and it becomes part of them, and then no other Seeker is able to acquire that information until that Seeker dies, or is killed and eaten by another Seeker. One of them must have come here in order to learn from the best."
"What do you mean," Sherlock asked.
"The Romans, of course," the Doctor answered. "The Seekers want to take over the humans, and this one plans to use the same tactics that the Romans did for conquering and ruling their Empire. It's brilliant, really. He came here to earth, to find out more about humans, like a reconnaissance mission, and he's taking back information to his planet in order to be eaten by their chief, so that he can then make a decision about the next step."
"Gross," Catherine said, now walking up the ramp to join the other two. "So, what are we going to do about this?"
"Well, I haven't gotten that far yet."
"They must have some kind of weakness," Sherlock mused.
"They eat each other. Isn't that problematic sometimes?"
"This is no time for jokes!" Sherlock reprimanded.
"No! Wait!" the Doctor exclaimed, suddenly very excited. "This is the perfect time for jokes! Don't you see?"
Sherlock and Catherine stared at him, wondering if the mad man in the box wasn't actually a wee bit mad.
"You don't get it, do you?" the Doctor asked. "Jokes, humor, irony. The Seekers can't understand that. They only can process facts and information."
"I fail to see the logic of this discussion," Sherlock observed dryly.
"Are you saying that we can use humor to confuse them?" Catherine asked, beginning to comprehend the Doctor's excitement.
"Yes!" he answered joyously. "Isn't that brilliant! We can send them information about the Roman Empire that will prove to them that they can't use that as a model for taking over the human race, and maybe they won't even want to bother with such a crazy planet!"
"What kind of information?" Sherlock asked, skeptically.
"Monty Python!" Catherine suggested.
"Princess Bride!" the Doctor said.
"A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum!"
"American Reality TV," Sherlock added, finally getting it.
"Yes!" the Doctor shouted. "Beam me up, Scotty!" He dashed to the console's screen and began typing. "I'll use the TARDIS's tracking systems to locate the ship that the Seeker used to get here and bombard it with signals. He'll have no choice but to absorb at least some of it, and when he returns and gets eaten-"
"His ideas will be rejected due to their utter and complete idiocy!" Sherlock concluded for him.
"And the words will return to the books?" Catherine asked.
"Yes," the Doctor assured her. "That will be our test. If this works, the books will no longer be empty and blank. Okay, I'm sending all the stupid American reality TV shows I can find right now," he explained as he typed.
"That's redundant," Sherlock said.
"And repetitive," Catherine observed with a smile, which Sherlock actually returned.
"And we're set!" the Doctor said triumphantly. He turned to his companions and smiled. "Back to the library!"
He started to run to the door when Sherlock said, "Wait! You're not seriously going to walk out of the TARDIS to get back to the Bodleian? We're in a Time and Relative Dimension in Space machine and you want to walk?"
"What did you have in mind?" the Doctor asked, vacantly.
"Well, maybe a ride in the TARDIS?" Catherine suggested.
"Oh!" A smile broke upon the Doctor's face. "Brilliant!"
He returned to the console, wiggled his fingers, and pulled the lever. The TARDIS was filled with the wheezing and groaning noise of take off. Everything began to shake and the Doctor called, "Hang on!"
Oh. My. Gosh.
The TARDIS landed and they went to the door. "Catherine, would you please do the honors?" the Doctor said, gesturing to the door.
Wow. She opened the door into the bright sunlight of an Oxford morning. They were right across the way from the Bodleian.
"Didn't think it would be wise to actually land in the library itself. Far too quiet in there; they'd be sure to notice," the Doctor explained.
They walked quickly into the library and back to the section on Ancient Rome. Their coats were still draped over the chairs where they left them, and the books were still strewn open on the tables, their pages blank as before.
"It might take a little bit," the Doctor explained. "Their solar system is on a different time loop, so it shouldn't be too long."
They stood around the table, staring at the books, turning pages every few moments, waiting and hoping for something to happen. After almost three minutes, small dark spots began to appear on the pages. They ran together to form lines and circles, until letters and words appeared. The Doctor picked up a book, flipping through the pages triumphantly, seeing the words form and spread across the pages, filling the book once more.
"It worked," Sherlock said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness for that."
Sherlock's phone beeped. Once again the library filled with the sound of shushes.
"Blast," Sherlock said under his breath as he pulled out his phone.
"Anything of general interest?" the Doctor asked.
"Just a text from Mycroft. I'm late for a meeting with the Prime Minister; he says it 'reflects badly on him.' I'm afraid I must dash."
"Give him my regards," the Doctor said.
"Have you met him?" Sherlock asked incredulously.
"Yes. Although, no, never mind. That hasn't happened yet."
"What hasn't happened?" Sherlock asked.
"The Scarlet Pimpernel incident. Gives you something to look forward to, eh?"
"Indeed," Sherlock answered. "Well, Doctor, Catherine, it has been both an honor and a pleasure. I thank you." He bowed deeply with a flourish of his hand, grabbed his coat and scarf, and walked rapidly away.
"I guess our work here is done," the Doctor said.
"Should we put the books away?" Catherine asked, looking at the open books scattered around the tables.
"No, that's what librarians are for. Besides, we just saved the world. I think we deserve a break." He smiled and began to leave. Catherine followed him out and back to the TARDIS.
"I guess this is it," the Doctor said as he reached the TARDIS door.
"I guess so."
"It's been great."
"Yes."
"I really couldn't have done it without you. I do have to go, though. I've got some really pressing business in 1409 that can't wait."
"Sure, I understand. I'm late for work, too."
"Right, well. I'm so pleased to have met you finally."
"You, too."
He turned to the door with the key in his hand.
"Doctor," Catherine said, stopping him. He turned back to her and she continued. "Before you go, I just have one question."
"Just one?"
"Did Jenny get to ride in the TARDIS?"
The Doctor leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. Catherine smiled.
Then he turned once again to the TARDIS, unlocked the door, and entered, shutting it behind him.
I guess that's that.
Catherine turned and began walking down the street, on her way to the publishing house. She glanced at her watch. Almost noon. Oh, well. She waited for the sound of the TARDIS leaving, wondering if she would be able to turn and watch it fade. But then she heard an unexpected sound.
"Catherine!"
She turned back around and saw the Doctor, poking his head out the TARDIS door.
"Have you ever been to Budapest in 1409?"
"No."
"Do you want to?"
Catherine smiled and ran back to the TARDIS. Work can wait today.