„Damn it, it doesn't matter what theory I try to follow, sooner or later, something blocks me. John, please, please- just help me!" Sherlock was about to tear out his hair, striding up and down on the crime scene. Seventeen people, all of them without any wounds. Dead. No poison. Nothing, nothing that might seem logical to him. „Holmes, can you hurry up?", Donovan hissed. The fifth case of that kind. In one week. Seventy-seven people had died. „There is something. Something important, I know it, I must know...I know...I don't know." The black-haired man was getting more and more impatient, but also Lestrade and Donovan. „GODDAMIT WHAT IS THIS? WHO DID THIS?"

„I might have an idea." an unknown voice suddenly shouted. John turned around and saw a man, a man who seemed so familiar to him. „John, nice to see you again!", the other man commented while slipping under the yellow tape, ignoring furious Lestrade.

The young, brown-haired man went absentmindedly through the crowded streets of London, sighing loudly and sitting down somewhere. He was alone, no one was by his side. Not Rose, not Martha, not Donna. Not Mickey, not Jack, he was alone. Then, suddenly, he saw another man, blonde, in a black suit, just making his way out of the cemetery. He had hid his face in his hands and was shaking. But in this loneliness, there was a similarity found somewhere. Although John wasn't seeing anything, he could feel that glance, looked at his side and wanted to back away, but the other man just said: „If you think you are alone, abandoned and broken, then just look at me, the very last one of my kind, the man who is broken, the man who regrets." „Who are you?" John sobbed. „The Doctor. And you are Dr. John Hamish Watson. Believe me, miracles are possible."
And the man just went away.

„So what have we got here?" The Doctor grinned widely and whipped out an instrument, the Sonic Screwdriver, one high-technolgical one. „ What's that?" Sherlock eyed the odd man interestedly.

Not from here. Special. Two hearts. This is not his first life.

Sherlock was shaking a little. „Two hearts...two hearts...not his first life...what...more riddles, more mysteries!", Sherlock mumbled. He was interrupted by the Doctor, who didn't sound delighted anymore. But serious. Deadly serious. „Just as I thought. A Dalek. Or to be more specific- many Daleks." „I'm sorry – what? What? Da-what?" Surreal. „ A Dalek. Let's say- a damn robot with a laser gun exterminating everything that comes in his way. „One moment." Sherlock smiled. The man seemed so strange but so familiar to him, so young and so old, so happy and so sad.

You know ne.

Smile. Just smile Sherlock. Continue smiling.

It is me, the Doctor.

Winter. Cold, as usual. Sighing loudly, the seven year old made his way through the snow. He wasn't impressed of the christmas-y landscape, the snowflakes dancing like little ballerinas through the wind. Just concentrating on his way, forgetting all the annoying habits, the almost bullying of his brother Mycroft, being fourteen and terribly idiotic- how he thought. He let his mind run, as he suddenly bumped into someone. „You alright? Oh yes, you are! Young boy, if I were you, I would concentrate what's in front of you!", the someone exclaimed, the boy clearly heard his Northern accent. „Alright, alright, yeah, hm." „You do not listen clearly, do you? So what's your name?"
Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. Very short,brown hair, noticeable ears and nose, black leather jacket and red v-necked shirt. „I ask you again- what is your name?" The black haired looked up at him, smiled and simply said: „Sherlock."
The man stared at him. Did he just say Sherlock? „Sherlock Holmes", he laughed.
„I didn't say my surname, so how did you know. Who are you then?" Stunned, the boy stared at this mysterious man, noticing a blue box in the background. He clearly knew that there was no box in this location yesterday and that it was quite unusual for this era. „The Doctor."
„Go on.", the boy again ordered. „I'm the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness-" „NO! I mean- your name? Do you have one?" Sherlock answered„Sure I have. But it's a secret.", the 'Doctor' said.
Leaving young Sherlock Holmes between amazement and anger, the man went into the blue box and the boy saw it dissappear.

The blue box.

That blue box.

Sherlock was near crying, tears in his eyes. „I've been searching for twenty-eight years now. Twenty-eight and now I've found you but something feels-"

„EXTERMINATE!" a tinny voice interrupted them agressively. „A Dalek? What is it doing here?" The Doctor spinned around on his Converse sneakers, aimed with his screwdriver on the Dalek's eye, hitting it and making the Dalek shooting around all the time. „I'd say, enough exterminating, dear Dalek." An old man with a walking cane just had the same kind of instrument in his hand and aimed at the robot. „One, hello there!" The younger one waved. „Ten!", the older one shouted. Meanwhile, the Dalek just tried saying: „Ex...ter...mi..." Then, silence. „Er, may I ask how many of you are present now?", John asked quite puzzled. „Officially twelve plus one Regeneration who...who..." Ten closed his eyes. „Who?"

That regeneration was about to make a terrible mistake. A mistake only one woman could correct.
And also the man who forgets, the man who regrets. And as before, the bad, bad wolf.
„Who actually wanted to destroy Gallifrey. If we weren't..."
„Oh, that one."

„We're all here, One to Twelve, spread all over London." The mentioned smiled. The War Doctor smiled. „Oh by the way, please stop that fuss with the sonic screwdrivers. They are NOT water pistols." He added.

„Sarah Jane Smith, died on April 19 2011" The man in the multicoloured scarf repeated those words over and over. „Sarah Jane, Sarah Jane...no, please ot." He fell down on his knees. You've always been by my side. These were the last words, engraved in white marble

„Everything ends one day But certainly you know, up there, she'll feel better. Well, that's what I think", someone stated
„Don't turn around."
„I don't get it?" The man in trenchcoat said
„Look, there, in the far back. Do you see the statue? Weeping Angel." Four pointed at an angel silhouette. The trenchcoat man didn't get it

„Angels don't weep.", he said

„Angels weep. You do too, Castiel."