[REQUEST]

Wholock: The Tenth Doctor and Watson. A cozy coffee shop with some books :)

Words: 725

Donna wouldn't have believed him if he'd told her, but he did occasionally like to take a few minutes off from running helter-skelter and sticking his nose into trouble in favor of sitting still and sticking his nose into a good book. In fact, a couple of regenerations ago he'd preferred books to people, on the whole.

Donna was off visiting her Grandfather today, and he, not fancying another run in with her mother, suggested they met him at the small and cozy cafe he was currently idling in, curled up on a swanky leather chair in the back, reading one of the books from the Tardis Library and occasionally remembering that he had a mug of tea growing cold on the small round table beside him.
The recent run in with Agatha Christie had left him craving a bit of mystery, and so he'd gathered up a few of her books, along with a compendium of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. (He was a quick reader to say the least, and was more than certain he'd be able to finish all of the material before Donna and Wilf finally showed up.)

He was currently burying his nose in chapter nine of And then there were none, when suddenly someone snatched one of his books off of the table.
The Doctor looked up, one eyebrow raised in incredulous confusion as the man, (Stocky, sandy blond hair, carrying a cane) frantically turned the pages, looking as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Oi! A bit more gently please, it was a gift!" He chastised.

The man looked up at him, expression furious, confused, and to the doctor's highly trained eye, hiding a hint of fear.
"What the hell is this?" he demanded, brandishing the heavy book in one hand like a weapon.

He couldn't resist the opportunity to be cheeky, after all the man was roughing up one of his favorite collections of human literature. "It's a book! Honestly, I know the schools are dumming down a bit in this century, but come on."

"I know what a book is mister." The man growled, obviously not in the mood to mess about with words. "What the hell is this." He jabbed a finger at the cover, indicating both the title, and the deerstalker clad, pipe smoking figure under it.

The Doctor was well and truly mystified. Everyone knew about Doyle's famous consulting detective, and even if they didn't there was no reason in the universe to react so strongly on getting aquatinted with the character.

"Er, Sherlock Holmes? Fictitious consulting detective? Penchant for Cocaine?"

"A study in Scarlet?" The man muttered, flipping from story to story. "The speckled band? ... Well at least the Hound of the Baskervilles is right".

"Is... There a particular reason the others aren't?" The question was light and curious, but he'd suddenly taken to studying the man more closely. Something was obviously off about this whole conversation, and now the Doctor was edge of his seat engaged.

"I bloody wrote these! Well, not these." His brow was creased in confusion and distaste as he skimmed through one of the actual stories.

"Oh, Are you sure?" The Doctor asked, innocent confusion in his tone. "They've been around for a while..." The man flipped the book over, his eyes widening when he saw the list of dates each story was released.

"1891 to 1905?!" flicking his wrist, he tossed the book back over to the Doctor, a look of disgust on his face. "I don't know who's sick idea of a joke this is, but it's not funny."

"What Joke? There's no joke! Unless of course you're having a go at me." The Doctor protested. Although intrigued, he was unappreciative of the hurling about of his books. "Look, who are you?" He finally asked. The man straightened up a bit.

"Doctor John H. Watson. Former flatmate, blogger and friend of Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective now deceased. Who the hell are you?"

"What?" The doctor murmured, eyes like saucers and eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. "No. What?" He uncrossed his legs and eagerly motioned to the chair across from him, a goofy grin splitting his face. "Well, John Watson, I'm the Doctor, and I think we ought to talk."

The first in a series of Sherlock AU prompt fills I wrote up for some of the good folks on Tumblr. :)
Please, feel free to leave a prompt in the review box if you like! I can't promise I'll write all of them, just the one's that take my fancy, but I'm still open to suggestions! :)

Thanks for reading!