Right, my first cross over... I've been thinking about doing one for a while and I've finally managed to get down to one. Hope you enjoy it and please feel free to point out any errors in my writing and constructive criticism is always welcome :)

"JOHN, WERE IS MY STASH"

Books were flying in all directions, papers flitted through the air as they fell to the ground and among this whirlwind of activity was one very frustrated consulting detective. Giving up on looking over the sides, Sherlock Holmes dug through the detritus on the floor, now getting desperate for even the smallest taste of tobacco to hit his tongue.

John was sat comfortably in his armchair, safely out of firing range of heavy hardback books on 'The complete human anatomy' and 'Quantum mechanics explained'. His legs were crossed, a book leaning on his knee and a cup of tea stood on the table next to him. As the flurry of motion next to him moved to the floor, he calmly looked up, sighed and took a sip of the drink before placing it down and resuming his reading. Living with Sherlock could be difficult, especially in times like this when he was bored, but through practice, John learned that it was best to ignore the idiot, let him get on with whatever he was doing and just carry on with normal life. By the time Sherlock gave up, the flat looked like a hurricane had just occurred. Paper was liberally scattered across the floor, pages making no sense as they belonged to completely different case folders, books lay grounded at all angles, finally resting after being thrown repeatedly whilst some had crushed spines due to landing at an odd angle. He didn't care though, oh no, nothing was going to stop Sherlock getting his fix.

"John..."

John looked up, hand halfway towards his book to turn the page. Sherlock looked totally manic. He was wearing his slightly too tight purple shirt, the buttons looked as if they were ready to pop off, a black suit jacket which was slightly rumpled due to his vigorous search and he was walking around in a pair of black jeans, of which fit very snugly around the curve of his leg and the area of his crotch and bum. The entire outfit was topped off by a polished pair of jet black leather shoes which complimented the rest of the outfit incredibly. Apart from his clothes, his pale expanse of his neck was on show as the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and above that were the imphamous cupid bow lips, sharp cheekbones and messy mop of raven curls which by the looks of things, could and would never be tamed. Totally absorbed in looking at this beautiful man in front of him, he missed the next words of the detective which when he did hear, took him totally by surprise.

"...Please" He paused and spoke again " Please tell me where my stash is."

Sherlock Holmes saying please? Either John had finally gone mad or Sherlock was truely desperate. It didn't matter though, John swore he would never let Sherlock give in and restart his habit and he was determined to stick to this, no matter how much Sherlock pleaded.

"Sherlock, you're doing so well, besides, haven't you got any cases to solve?"

"No John, I haven't. The website it completely empty."

John picked up his laptop and checked the site. His eyebrows raised as he saw the number of messages.

"Sherlock, there are 106 possible cases you could be solving... Oh wait, make that 107"

"Yes John, 107 cases that aren't worth solving. Hear this 'Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes, my wheelie bin is missing and would realy like to know where it has gone, please help.' DAMN IT JOHN! Have these people got better things to do than worry where their wheelie bins have gone?"

"Well, if you say so. But still, I'm not going to tell you where your stash is. I don't care what you're going to tell me to try and get what you want, but it won't work."

John was now taking his cup back to the kitchen when Sherlock decided to move to his bedroom. If John wasn't going to give him his stash, then he would find something else to do. For about 20 minutes, he just lay on his bed thinking. Thinking about general things such as whether he had done this experiment or that experiment. Even once, he thought about cleaning up the mess he had left in the living room but then thought against it. John or Mrs Hudson would get it later. The next thought caught him a bit off guard. He'd been meaning to sort out one room in his mind palace for awhile now, one room that resembled some vague importance to him. The room devoted to one man and a mysterious box. Already he had some ideas and information such as the man's looks and the fact that he was only known as 'The Doctor'. Yes, he would sort out this information, neatly align it so it made some modicum of sense and then he would add to it by looking at his laptop and finding more information.

By the time Sherlock had finished, roughly two hours had passed. The detective slowly sat up on his bed, stretched and then made his way into the living room, only to find it perfectly clean and John sitting in exactly the same position as he had been when Sherlock went out. The army doctor simply looked up and said "Mrs Hudson said there's a man at the door for you. I think he's waiting outside."

A man at the door for Sherlock? If it was a client, John would have told him and nobody else would just want to talk to the detective apart from Lestrade, whom John would have told him was there and Mycroft, who would have let himself in anyway. Shrugging these thoughts off, Sherlock began to put on his coat and scarf. Just before he left though, he saw something strange outside the window; nothing dramatic, just a flash of blue before he turned around and left the flat. The detective's heart started to hammer. Was it him? He ran down the stairs, through the door and out onto the street and smiled by the site he was met with. A blue box was parked in the middle of the street with a man stood in front of it. The box was impressive, a shade of brilliant blue that was bright but not an eyesore whilst a vaguely visible wood grain underneath toned the colour down just a bit more and added some character to the finely crafted exterior. 'Police public call box' was illustrated in large letters above the doors and a police phone notice stuck to the door. However, the thing that caught most of his interest was the man standing in front of the impressive blue box. This man was dressed in a tweed jacket over a red patterned shirt and bright red braces which held his pitch black trousers up. A pair of brown boots were on his feet and a bow tie finished off the entire ensemble perfectly. His face was angular with prominent cheekbones and chin, his eyes were green at a glimpse but if you looked deeper, you could see everything he has done, everything he has seen and everything he has felt, all swirling around just under the surface.

"I thought you would never come." The man engaged conversation.

"How long have you been stood there?" Sherlock was curious.

The man looked at his watch, "only about 10 seconds give or take, I actually came round about an hour ago but your absolutely charming flatmate said you were sulking, so, I came down, and set the TARDIS to arrive here about 20 seconds ago." He explained, patting the blue box appreciatively.

"TARDIS?" Sherlock moved closer

"Time and relative dimensions in space, I prefer to say TARDIS because it's less of a mouthful and she prefers it" The man pointed at the TARDIS and the light on its roof shone for a second.

Sherlock nodded in disbelief, the box was a she, the man just jumped an hour forwards in time as if it was nothing and to be frank, he didn't look much like a time traveler, he was just too... Too... Sherlock couldn't put his finger on it but there was something about him that made Sherlock interested. "Who are you?" The detective asked

"I'm the Doctor, you?" The Doctor held out his hand.

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective." He shook the man's hand and relished how warm it felt.

"Ahh, there are a lot of those in the future... You're the only one in the world right? Well, right now anyway."

"I invented the job" Sherlock stated as a matter of fact.

"Oh, well it is a pleasure to meet you" The Doctor suddenly had a massive grin plastered on his face and was practically vibrating he was so excited.

"So, why did you come here?" Sherlock finally asked the question he had been waiting to ask.

"Well..." The Doctor paused and had to think, a hand coming up to scratch his head. "Ah, hang on." He turned around with a flourish and disappeared into the TARDIS, only to appear a few minutes later. "This is why we came here." He held up the pad in his hand and showed Sherlock.

"It doesn't say anything." The detective pointed out.

"Ahh, yes, only I can see this one apparently... It says 'Who is he?' and the TARDIS picked up on these coordinates, god knows how." He screwed his face up in confusion. "Why would the psychic paper give me this though?"

"Ummm, that may have been me." Sherlock stated

"Eh?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about you... Not in a 'I want to buy you a drink and take you back to my flat' way, but in urr, a 'I want to find out who you are' kind of way. I was sorting out all the information I had on you in my mind palace."

Both he and the Doctor blushed at this admission and the Doctor went up to him and stared him up and down. From this proximity, he could smell Sherlock and he could feel the heat radiating off the man, despite the cold night. He pulled back.

"Okay then, apparently the TARDIS thinks you're special and I agree. Anyone with a strong enough mental capacity to attract her deserves at least one journey." He was grinning again.

"What?" Sherlock had to reconfirm what he had just heard.

"You, me, a journey in the TARDIS to a planet or time completely of your choice of course."

"But won't John wonder where I've gone?"

"Ahh, that's the whole beauty of the thing, you go out on a trip with me, spend as much time as you want and then I can take you back, still in time for tea, possibly on a different day, but that's not a big problem. So, what do you say?"

"I say yes but you decide where we go and when we go."

"Okay then!" The Doctor clapped his hands together in delight and spun round to open the TARDIS door. He stepped in but looked back around the door when he realised Sherlock wasn't following. "Why aren't you coming?"

"Isn't it a bit, well, small?" The detectives forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"Ahh, I get that a lot... Umm, just come inside and you'll be surprised at just how much space there really is." With a quick smile and a flick of his quiff, he disappeared into what could only be referred to as a 'snog box'.

Sherlock still wasn't convinced and was skeptical that there was enough for even one person, but finally decided to follow the mad man. Upon entering the tiny box, his face matched one of disbelief at the new surroundings.

Not so bad for a first attempt, well, at least I thought so, chapter two is on the way :)