1

The front door of the flat 221B creaked nastilywhen John Watson pushed it open. 'For Gods sake!', he thought annoyed. 'Sherlock's too busy to get the milk but he can't even oil the door once!' John had been on the move all day so it was already early evening and the sunlight began to fade (bloody winter). Sherlock was at Barts- examining stuff again. John was clueless what he was doing there, spending the past couple of hours over his microscope and other instruments. John had tried to talk to him but his friend's answer had been that it was "very complicated" and he wouldn't understand it.

The ex-army doctor stepped over the threshold. "Mrs. Hudson?", he shouted. No answer. Probably she was still out, although they had agreed they would have supper together this evening.

In his flat he pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the armrest of 'his' armchair, then he went into the kitchen to check whether there was a drink (perhaps a nice cold beer?)in the fridge left. He just wanted to open it when a little note caught his eye, which was adhered on the fridge door. John took it off. It read:

I'm out boys, down the shops, will be back by 6

-Mrs. H

He glanced at his watch. It was already half past 6 but traffic was hell that day so there was nothing to be apprehensive about. The only teensy little thought something might be wrong preyed on his mind because recently people had been disappearing off the streets. There were 'missing'posters all over the streets of London. People who had vanished taking the rubbish out, children on their way to school or back home, random people walking their dogs. Whatever had happened to those people, the police were still investigating though not getting one step closer. Of course, Lestrade had asked Sherlock for help but he had considered missing people as "dull". Besides he had spent the last days at St. Barts- not only today. He was on a case, apparently, but wouldn't work with John for some odd reason only Sherlock knew.

"No", John said to himself. "There are so many possible reasons for Mrs. Hudson's delay. " He had a god yawn- it had been quite a long day- and began with some research about this weird material Sherlock had asked (or rather told) him to do.

His research proven unsuccessful so far, John looked up an hour later and eyeballed the clock on the mantlepiece. 7:30. Frowning he let his eyes wander through the window on his left where the darkness had lain over Baker Street like a dark blanket and letting the now switched on lights of the passing vehicles seem like torches. Neither Sherlock nor Mrs. Hudson had returned. He wasn't surprised by Sherlock's absence, though- John was used to him getting home late- but Mrs. Hudson was punctual and she never missed things like appointments. Concerned John started pacing up and down, and finally decided, after some more minutes, to phone Sherlock.

"John, I was just-"

"Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson hasn't come home although she said she would be nearly 2 hours ago- she left a note. You know we wanted to meet up for supper."

"She's never late."

"I know, that's why I called you." John's voice was shaky. "You don't happen to know anything?"

"No." There was an undertone in his voice John couldn't quite define. "John, I want you to come to Scotland Yard, now. I will meet you there at"- He paused- "9.15. And bring that note!"

"Sherlock, why-?", John tried to ask but the beeping told him that his interlocutor had rang , he grabbed his jacket and hurried out of the flat.

Sometimes Sherlock could really get his goat since he never explained anything, but right now John was genuinely worried: firstly regarding Mrs. Hudson and secondly because Sherlock did seem to know something. Why elsedid he want to meet him just now and additionally at Scotland Yard?

The streets were still congested as the cabbie tried dig a way through the traffic. To John's surprise, though, the cab stopped at exactly quarter past 9 in front of the building where Scotland Yard was was already waiting with arms folded behind his back next to the entrance.

"Did you bring it?", Sherlock instantly asked as John joined him.

"What?", John replied dazed .

"The note."

"Oh, yeah, right." John pulled the little slip out of his jacket pocket. "But what for?"

Sherlock had a closer look on the message. "Hmmm," he muttered," no, nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"I was looking for a clue, hinting at Mrs. Hudson's disappearance. Perhaps she wrote it in haste or with a shaky hand but she even used the usual pencil, the one she always carries around with her. Now c'mon."

"Sherlock, why are we here?", John asked, furrowing his brows. "Has it got anything to do with Mrs. Hudson? Do you know anything?"

"Perhaps", was the answer he received as the two of them entered the police station. "Lestrade had phoned me right before you did regarding the disappearances. It looks like one of these incidents has happened just under our roof."

"These are the reported disappearances from the last 48 hours. Within the past days the number seems to have doubled. It's getting more and more, Sherlock. And not only London is affected. There are numerous reports from Cardiff as well and from the cities in between."

Lestrade sat in his office behind his desk with a serious face, Sherlock and John had taken seats opposite of him. He had shown them pictures of the missing persons and Sherlock was lost deep in thought, his hands joined under his chin, probably paying his mind palace a visit, John presumed. Apparently vanishing people were suddenly far more thrilling than before (Perhaps also because of Mrs. Hudson).

"So", he began, "are there any particular places? I mean places where plenty of people have disappeared or were seen for the last time?"

"No, not really." Lestrade sighed. "There was one strange incident, though. A man- Ronald Barlow - was walking down a beach in South London with his wife. As he turned to look at her she was- according to his statement- gone. Simply vanished into thin air. The wife-"

"I need the husbands address.", Sherlock interrupted him all of the sudden. Apparently he had awoken from his rigidity." And coordinates of the spot the woman disappeared as accurate as possible. I'll have a closer look."

"But Sherlock!", Lestrade proclaimed. "We have sent a team down there but of course they didn't find anything- not even you will. I mean, honestly, what are you expecting!"

"Oh, I'm not so sure," Sherlock muttered. "I'll pay that beach a visit. Meanwhile my best man will interrogate the husband."

"We already-"

"Yes, but I prefer to visualize it on my own."

"Best man?", John asked, confused. Sherlock clapped him on the shoulder and got up. John rolled his eyes- his countenance clearly expressing 'Oh, not that again.'

So John set off towards Jamestown Road to talk to Mr. Barlow whilst Sherlock took a taxi to the beach.

He was walking down the beach, searching for any kinds of special markings or just a hint- something he could start with, when a crashing noise resonated. He jumped from his squatted position to his feet. Something was about to happen, he sensed that.

Abruptly the wind started to blow, it got stronger and came from behind him which was weird since it was clear and completely windlessnight. Not even a breeze flew and there were hardly any waves on the water of the Thames that sparkled in the moonlight. Then, almost at the same time a klicking, kind of unhealthy sound rose, one that Sherlock couldn't identify and the moon was being covered by clouds.

Chir-whoo-Chir-whoo…

And in the direction the sudden gale had blown from, roughly a dozen yards away, a blue box started to appear.

"Come on!" The Doctor grabbed her hand and Rose stumbled with one hand covering her mouth behind him out of the TARDIS. "What the hell…was that?", she coughed. "We were just talking and…"

FLASHBACK: Rose was sitting on the chair next to the console in the TARDIS control room- the only one in there- watching the Doctor spinning around it, pressing some buttons and twisting some wheels. The TARDIS was playing music over some sort of integrated CD-player- "Faces changing".

"Oh, I love that band! The lead singer is an actor from the Lord of the Rings- did you know that? God, it's been ages since I've been to the cinema the last time. Maybe we should go together once."

"Yeah, I suppose-, hang on." The Doctor peered at the screen. "Well, that's odd…"

"What's the matter, Doctor?"

"Not sure, but-"

A jerking shook the TARDIS. The music stopped playing. Rose looked at her friend with eyes wide open and swiftly got to her feet. "Oh, no", murmured the Doctor.

"Doctor, what's going on?" Rose hurried over to him. She only caught a brief glimpse of lots of funny symbols its meaning she didn't have a clue of, when the Doctor yelled: " Hold on tight!"

The next moment a chain of rattling went through the TARDIS and fortunately Rose had grabbed a handle just in time because otherwise she'd have been hurled across the room. The bumpy ride proceeded and the Doctor was unable to do anything since he was himself busy clinging to the console. Sparks sprayed and the ship let loose some disturbing noises.

As sudden as it had started it was over and Rose was catapulted directly into the seat behind her. Smoke was now beginning to fill the control room, making both occupants cough.

"Out, now!", the Doctor cried.

"…then- well- what did happen, Doctor?"

The Doctor, who was standing in front of the open TARDIS door and active with an extinguisher he must've picked up on their way out, turned his head to his companion, an alarmingly severe look on his features. "Well, we… remember that time when you crash-landed with Mickey in our parallel world?"

"Yeah", she said slowly and the truth was gradually dawning on her." No, but, we can't be! I mean, what you're saying is-" She didn't have to finish her sentence.

"Yes", said the Doctor gloomily. "We're back in the 'other'- your former- world."

"How the hell did that happen?", was Rose's next question. She sounded insecure but not frightend.

"Well, apparently a gap in the universe has opened again…While I was trying to trace that signal which most likely came from here, we must've slipped through."

"Signal?" Rose frowned.

"Yeah, that's what I was trying to figure out before that bumping started. It was a bit unclear- well, now it's obvious why."

"D'you know what it was?"

The Doctor tossed the empty extinguisher back into the TARDIS and struck his hands into the pockets of his blue suit he was wearing under the long brown coat. Clearly worried, he took a deep breath."Zygons."

"Zygons? I've never heard of them before."

"You know last time you visited your family you asked me later how I spent the day and I told you I didn't do anything special, just wandering through the city?" He sighed. "I didn't mean to worry you so I kept it to myself. The truth is I had a …let's say little conflict with the Zygons. They were responsible for those people who had disappeared and suddenly reappeared again and when I found them finally they just vanished. I tried to find them again to get them from this planet once and for all but," he shook his head. "I couldn't. Back then already the TARDIS kept receiving those weird anomalies and- Rose?"

Rose had noticed a sheet of paper pinned to a nearby bin. "And now we know where them Zygons are, don't we?", she finished his sentence, staring at the poster. The Doctor approached her. It showed the picture of a woman, Kylie Benson, according to the text below, who was in her mid-thirties, last seen: 28th February. The poster informed as well about addresses and telephone numbers of relatives.

"The thing is", said the Doctor and squinted at the poster," Zygons are shapeshifters. Once they've captured a victim they copy it and relatives do not notice they were gone- at least not for long. In the parallel world the abductees reappeared after about day. I tried to find out why, what the point of it was but I couldn't. Not yet."

He turned to look down the shore for more missing posters and saw a tall man with a long, black coat, curly, dark hair and a blue scarf coming reluctantly towards them.

Sherlock had been way too baffled to speak to them earlier and Rose and the Doctor had been way too busy with their problems to notice him. Besides Sherlock had been, due to his black clothes, swathed in darkness since the moon had been hidden behind the clouds and the only light had been provided by the few lanterns up and down the shore. Now the moonlight lit the entire beach. Sherlock had thought through the whole thing thoroughly and tried to understand how this 'Police box', as it said on a sign above the double doors, could have possibly appeared out of nowhere. And when man and a girl had stumbled out of that box followed by smoke he'd been utterly confused. Coming to the conclusion that it was some odd trick he'd try to figure out later, he'd decided to talk to the strangers.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor", the Doctor grinned. "And this is Rose."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to meet you", said the Doctor cheerfully and added more solemnly, "Whatever you are here for or did or going to do- I suggest you had better go home."

"Or", added Rose quickly. "D'you happen to know anything about the missing people?" She pointed at the poster she'd found.

"I'm investigating in that case so I suggest you two'd better get off this beach. Strange things seem to happen around here." He tried not to look at the blue box while he said that.

"Oh", said Rose." So you're the police?"

Now Sherlock glanced at the police box for second. "No, I'm a consulting detective but apparently you are."

The Doctor shot a glance at the TARDIS as well before he replied smiling, "Yes, DI Doctor John Smith and Sergeant Rose Tyler. We've come to help in that case." He pulled out the psychic paper and showed it to Sherlock, simply anxious to avoid critical questions.

Sherlock kept a straight face as his eyes rested briefly on the paper and said with hands behind his back: "3 things. Firstly I consult Scotland Yard who have taken that case and they've just told me they didn't have a clue so far and certainly would have mentioned help from other police stations. Secondly, I recognize this "police public call box" and, whatever you're connection to it is, it's a model from the 1960s which does not exist on the streets of London anymore and surely doesn't suddenly appear on beaches and thirdly, that pieces of paper is blank so am I right in assuming that you're not policemen at all and do not have the intention to help?"

The Doctor Rose looked at each other incredulously. "Wow", Rose said gobsmacked, turning to Sherlock again." You're rather good."

"Yeah, you're right", sighed the Doctor but with a scrutinizing look on Sherlock he added, "We're not the police but we want to help and you can call me Doctor anyway. I'm sorry but if you would excuse us now." He got ready to set off. Rose grabbed his arm.

"Wait a sec."

"What?" Her voice was low when she explained, "If he's investigating in those incidents and is as good as he seems he might be able to help." But Sherlock had heard her.

"Me help you? I think it'd be rather vice versa but I don't even know who you really are. You've just appeared out of nowhere, apparently, and tried to lie to me."

"Let's work together then to try and solve this case!"

Sherlock didn't know why or what or even how but there was something about those two strangers that made him trust them, which was definitely a new feeling. Considering he could find out more about the two of them, he replied after a pause: "Fair enough." Before he could say something else his mobile rang. He picked it out of a pocket and – with an "excuse me" to the Doctor and Rose – he answered.

"John, have you got news for me?"

"Sherlock, I've just finished interrogating Mr. Barlow. He didn't have much to tell. Mind you, there was one thing I'd like to tell you in private. Are you still on the beach?"

"Yes, I-" He shot the new acquaintances a look. "Why can't you tell me now, where are you?"

"Outside of his house, just wanted to get a cab. Can we meet at the bus station there?"

"Ok, but- nevermind. See you."

"Who was that?", the Doctor asked as Sherlock hung up and turned to leave the beach.

"My friend, John Watson. I asked him to interrogate the husband of one of the missing. We'll meet up at the nearby bus station now because he said he had news he wanted to tell me in confidence." He paused. "I propose you'd better come with me so I can introduce you."

Sherlock went off and with a meaningful look on Rose the Doctor and eventually his friend followed him.

"So, what exactly are Zygons? What do they look like?", Rose asked softly, turning to the Doctor.

"Big, red, rubbery things", she received as an answer," covered in suckers, but as I already mentioned they can take the form anyone and have access to their memories as well.

"I just wonder", he continued, raising his voice and taking a few large steps to catch up with Sherlock who was leading their way. "Did any of the disappeared people show up again?"

"No, but as you are here to help I thought you were well-informed." "Well", the Doctor commented." Sadly we're not aware of possible recent activities."

"You know", said Sherlock, "If we had more time now, I would ask you where you are from and who on earth you really are but-"

"We don't, exactly. Oh, and this must be your friend", the Doctor exclaimed and a moment later John stood in front of them. He'd already started walking towards them and waved Sherlock from a distance.

"Sherlock, who-?"

"I'm Rose, Rose Tyler and this is the Doctor. We've come to help", said Rose kindly.

"Yes", added Sherlock," We want to…work together on this case."

John stared at Sherlock disbelievingly. "You- and help? Like partners in crime/investigation?" Then he shot the Doctor a curious and very interested look, who clearly didn't miss it.

"So what's your name?", he wanted to know.

"John Watson. I'm a doctor, too- and people just call you Doctor?"

"Yeah, they do."

"Right." John turned to Sherlock. "Sherlock, where the hell-"

"You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about", he interrupted his friend." So I suggest you tell me now before we put down roots."

"He's right," interposed the Doctor. "We can have our tea break later."

Out of the corner of his eyes Sherlock gave him an annoyed look. "Yeah," John said slowly, probably startled by the doctor's behaviour. "So I can tell you in front of them, can't I? Okay, Mr. Barlow claimed that yesterday he had gone out for a walk along the less busy street in Outer London to blow away the cobwebs, when he saw a glimpse of- well, according to his description, a red, tall creature through the broken window of an old warehouse."

"Did he give a further description?", Rose enquired, excited.

"No, he simply said that it looked neither like a human nor an animal- just different and kind of odd. Maybe someone dragged up for a party or something."

"In an old warehouse?", Sherlock objected, doubtingly." All on his own?"

"Well, he didn't go inside- perhaps there would have been more. He wanted to get away from there as quickly as possible just in case, you know."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And he didn't tell the police about that?"

"To be honest, he didn't seem to trust them, really, and probably he thought he'd sound insane."

"But he did tell you."

John smirked. "Yeah, I mean it took a bit probing and a lot of patience, but since I was not the police…"

"Then I propose we'd better make a move. He gave you the address of the warehouse, didn't he? It's not getting brighter." He looked up to the shining moon and the exceptionally glowing stars tonight.

"Or warmer", mumbled Rose who froze in her thin jacket.

"Good", agreed John, stifling a yawn. "But first we'll have to stop at Baker Street so I can fetch my gun and a torch."

"John, will you wait with Rose and the Doctor in the cab? Then I can go and get my own gun as well."

"I could bring it, too."

"Sure, but I doubt you'd find it." With this he got out of the taxi which had stopped before 221B.

"Sherlock always hides his gun somewhere else," John answered on a quizzical look from Rose.

"Okay, so you two live here together", said remarked the Doctor cheerfully and turned his head to John. He had barely said anything since they've encountered John. He'd been silent, sometimes glancing over to him and lost in thought. So Rose had undertaken the smalltalk so far. "That's nice, I once knew a couple of-"

But John wouldn't let him finish speaking. "Jesus, no! Not like that! He's my friend- my best friend. I mean we're flatmates but no more."

"Oh, right, sorry…how did you meet?"

John sighed." I served the British Army in Afghanistan as an army doctor for 3 years. I got shot, returned to London and my old friend Mike introduced us 'cause we both needed someone to share a flat with. What about you two?"

The Doctor drew a deep breath. "You wouldn't believe it if we told you the truth."

"Why not?"

But before either of them could say anything else, the cab's door opened and Sherlock climbed swiftly in.

The next moment the cab started towards North London.