Title: The Woman and The Boy Who Waited

Author: ConsultingTimeTraveler

Author's Note: I'm sorry the prologue is short, not much to write really, because, if I do, I'd spill way too much… : )

Word Count: 484

Summary: What if The Doctor and Sherlock had crossed paths when Sherlock was only a little boy? What if he had promised to take him on an adventure after fixing his TARDIS, which should have only taken a few hours? Now, what if he didn't come back for years and years? Finally, let's replace Irene Adler with one Rose Tyler and a certain Amy Pond with Sherlock Holmes. What mischief and problems will this cause and why did the Doctor come back NOW?

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Sherlock

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"Dreams were made and used and wasted…"

~Les Miserables (I Dreamed A Dream)

Prologue

A man, around six foot, paced around his small bedroom. His usual neat curly black hair was amess, sticking out all over the place. His brown eyes were tired, but were still wide opened, still working. "Damn it," he muttered, running his hands through his hair again. "This can't be happening again!" He took off his black blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his purple button up shirt, at the same time, throwing his shoes off.

He continued to pace, his mind still working, but growing more and more weaker by the minute. This is not happening, he thought, this is not happening. Just because you can feel him doesn't mean he's actually coming, that's impossible. He's not real, dear god, he's not real!

A knock came at his door, distracting him from his current thoughts. "Sherlock, are you okay," a familiar voice asked worriedly.

"Leave me alone John," he yelled out, settling down onto his bed.

John sighed and hesitated, debating whether or not he should continue to knock. He thought better of it and started to walk away, knowing that he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. "He's been acting weird since we came home from our previous case," he muttered to himself, trying to use his skills to deduce what was wrong. However, he failed, as always when it came to Sherlock. He settled onto his armchair and closed his eyes, his brain, like Sherlock's, still working, but getting slower and slower.

A silent whoosh, whoosh started to echo through the flat, rattling the small coffee table, causing John to snap his eyes open and look around. "You're not real," he suddenly heard Sherlock yell from the top of his lungs as his door burst open. "You're not real!"

He jumped out of his chair as he spotted an old Police Box materialize in the kitchen, causing files of old cases to fly around, frustrating John because he had just alphabetized it. The pots and pans started to clang, hitting each other as wind gusted around. He saw Sherlock run next to him, gripping his hands unconsciously. John, feeling his fear, which he thought was impossible, didn't even bother pulling away, knowing that they were both equally scared.

The feeling was suddenly lost though when a short man stepped out. His short brown hair stuck up in all sorts of places, seeming amess. His brown eyes were covered in a pair of black specs, making him look slightly smarter, though everybody knew that he was the smartest man in the universe. He wore a striped brown suit with an unusual blue, swirly tie, and a pair of blue converse, which definitely did not go with his suit, of course.

"Well," the odd man began awkwardly, after minutes of silence, his eyes gazing up and down the two. "I think that, that was more than a few hours."

"On my own, pretending he's beside me…"

~Les Miserables (On My Own)

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Reviews are more than welcome and I would love to know if I should continue…