Let's Have Dinner
Summary: The message wasn't signed. Just, "Let's have dinner."
He'd just returned from a distant planet when the message arrived. It was in a simple, TARDIS blue envelope, and all it said was 'Let's have dinner.' as well as some coordonates.
The Doctor frowned and turned around to question Amy and Rory about the letter's existence. They, of course, knew nothing.
"Let's have dinner."
The cursive words stood there, mocking him as he searched up the coordonates. London, 2011. A restaurant called Angelo's.
The Doctor sighed as he sent Amy and Rory to a honeymoon planet. He really couldn't resist himself.
He thought that maybe the letter came from River, but it lacked personality; her personality. No lipstick mark, no "sweetie" no nothing.
And it made him curious.
Who could it be? Who could it possibly be? It had to be someone who had methods of sending a letter directly to the TARDIS console... But not many did. There was River, for once, then maybe Jack. It could be Jack. Only he would send such a flirty message.
A quick stop in Cardiff proved his assumption wrong. Jack insisted that wasn't his writing.
So the question remained. Who?
There was only one way to find out.
The Doctor set the coordinates and hoped he didn't wind up a year late. He was dying to find out.
The door opened with a clink, and he found himself in a small, homey restaurant with booths surrounding the room. A short, fat man approached him and smiled.
"Hello," he grinned. "A booth or a table?"
The Doctor blinked. "I, I have this-" he showed him the blue envelope, watching as the man's face lightened up in recognition.
"Oh! I'm Angelo, and you have a special booth upstairs," he grinned toothily. "Follow me."
"Should I be scared?" the Doctor wondered aloud.
Angelo scoffed. "Naw. Sherlock's a nice man, if a bit too clever. He saved me from going to prison," he winked.
"Oh," the Doctor blinked. "Okay. Where are we going?"
"Upstairs, he's waiting," Angelo said as they reached a staircase. He pointed to a red curtain. "Part that and go inside; you'll see him."
"Thank you," the Doctor said.
"Food will be up shortly," Angelo grinned.
"It's not -" the Doctor started, but Angelo had already walked away, "-necessary. Why does no one ever listen to me?"
Recieving no answer in return, the Doctor sighed and made his way up, hesitantly parting the curtains.
X
The sight was glorious.
X
"Sherlock" had his feet perched on the table, tipping his chair backwards; his hands were placed casually on his lap.
The Doctor could hear his double heartbeat.
"Have a seat," Sherlock said in a deep baritone, gesturing elegantly to the chair in front of him.
"It's you," the Doctor said.
"Have a seat," he repeated, a note of irritation creeping in his voice.
The Doctor hastily sat down.
Silence filled the small room, one studying the other. The Doctor focused on the rich curly black hair and icy blue eyes while Sherlock watched the Doctor's blue bowtie with disdain.
"You've regenerated," Sherlock said finally.
"You escaped Time Lock," the Doctor accused. "Master... How?"
The Master smiled.
X
"One of the easiest things I've done," he answered flippantly.
"Easiest - Time Lock, Master, Time Lock!" the Doctor cried.
"Exactly. Time Lock. And as any lock, it must have a key," the Master said. "But enough of that. I want to know why you're wearing a bowtie."
"Bowties are cool," the Doctor defended himself. "How?"
"Now is not the time for explanations," the Master said sharply, placing his legs back on the floor as a plate of roasted beans was placed in front of the Doctor. "Eat."
"I don't like beans," the Doctor muttered, picking up his fork anyway. "You won't eat?"
The Master's lips quirked upwards. "Digesting slows me down."
"Of course it does," the Doctor scoffed.
The Master smirked. "So why did you regenerate? If I recall correctly, I sacrificed myself for you - a once in a lifetime situation, I must tell you. Don't expect me to do it again."
"Wilf-" the Doctor started.
"The old man?" the Master interrupted.
"Yes. He got in the radiation chamber to let one of the scientists escape and got stuck there. I had to go in the opposite one to save him."
"And thus you regenerated," the Master clicked his tongue. "Shame. I liked your previous regeneration."
"I'm sure you did," the Doctor said. "What happened after you got sucked back in with Rassilon and the rest of the Time Lords?"
The Master's expression darkened. "They weren't happy about their Lord President's death," he said. "And they made sure I knew."
"Rassilon is dead?" the Doctor gasped. "You killed him?"
The Master scoffed. "Of course I did. He destroyed my life. He put those wretched drums in my head."
"Are they-" the Doctor almost swallowed back his words. "Are they gone?"
"Yes," said the Master, lips curling in a wicked smirk. "And do you know what this means, Doctor?"
"No," he replied, a bit scared.
"It means this is the first time in centuries that I can think clearly," the Master said, rising from his seat. "It means that the Game is on, Doctor." He flicked the Doctor's forehead, making him flinch. "Good luck. You'll need it."
With a flourish, he was gone, leaving the Doctor gobsmacked, sitting on the chair with the fork halfway to his mouth.
Angelo came in, took his plate from him and didn't spare the Doctor a second glance.
X
As Amy and Rory entered the TARDIS they were met by a gleeful Doctor.
"What's wrong?" Amy asked, placing her hand on the banister.
"Nothing's wrong," the Doctor said, pulling a lever. "Everything's fantastic."
"Alright, where are we going then? You still haven't gotten us to Rio."
"Wherever the TARDIS takes us," the Doctor said. "The Game has started." He turned around to grin at his humans. "And it is going to be bumpy."