Hi, this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction so please let me know what you think. It would be great to have some comments :)
"I just can't do it anymore, Sherlock. I've seen too much, done too much that I regret"
Sherlock studied the short, blond-haired man sat opposite him. Much had changed since their first encounter when a young Sherlock happened to stumble across a mansion of Weeping Angels which the Doctor had been investigating. Since then Sherlock had intermittently travelled as the Doctor's companion and in return, the Doctor would always come and investigate any unexplained happenings that Sherlock thought might be the result of alien activity. The Doctor sitting opposite Sherlock was far removed from that mad man in a blue box that Sherlock knew and loved. Since his last regeneration, his eyes held a greater sadness and Sherlock could tell that whatever had killed the Doctor's old self had unearthed some old demons of his past as well.
Without waiting for a response, the Doctor continued:
"I've been running my whole life and I think it's time to stop. I'm tired of losing those I love and watching planets die because I couldn't save them. I just want to forget all the suffering."
"What are you planning? You can't just retire. You've created enough of a reputation for yourself to make that impossible."
"There is a way for me to completely disappear." The Doctor hesitated before going on, as though he was just realising the full implications of what he was about to do. "My people invented a machine that can abstract the essence of a Timelord. I could become fully human and live a normal life on Earth."
"But a human body wouldn't be able to cope with all your memories of life as a Timelord, you would burn up from the sheer strain of remembering." Sherlock had started to pace about the flat, trying to work out exactly what lengths the Doctor was prepared to go to in order to escape his past. "But you wouldn't remember, would you? You could write yourself a whole new set of human memories. That's why you've come here, isn't it? You want me to look after the human you."
The Doctor pulled out a file and handed it to Sherlock. "Everything you need to know about the alias I've built for myself is in there. Mycroft has agreed to alter the national records for me. Personally I think he's quite pleased someone will be keeping an eye on you. Mike Stamford from Barts has agreed to introduce me to you tomorrow as a former classmate of his who might be a potential flatmate for you. You said that you'd been looking at a new flat at 221B Baker Street?"
Without answering the Doctor's question, Sherlock started to leaf through the file. All of it seemed to be in order, enough detail to make it a convincing lie. There was just the small matter of the name. "Doctor John Smith? Are you sure that's wise given the amount of times you've given that as your alias? How about another surname, something less common?" Sherlock moved over to the desk, picking up a newspaper and starting to scan the personal adverts. "Sacker? No, doesn't sound quite right for an army doctor. Wait, how about this: there's an advert here from a Hamish Watson. John Hamish Watson. It has quite a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
