It was a particularly warm, clear day in London. The sun was high in the sky, and only a scarce amount of clouds dared block its inviting rays. The air was light and smelled slightly of trimmed grass. Taking in this glorious day (you would suppose by the looks of it) was a tall, thin man with curly dark hair, standing in the center of a graveyard. He seemed to be examining a stone statue of an angel, a furrowed brow upon his face. Coming up behind him was another, much shorter, man known by the name of Doctor John Watson.
Looking a bit flustered and out of breath Watson denounced, "Sherlock! What are you doing now?! First we took an adventure to a cafe's dumpster, and now we are staring at a stone statue!" John just glared at the curly haired man while he finished his panting, hands on his waist - thinking of something else he could complain about. " You know, after you sent me the text that said 'Meet me K.G. cemetery. Urgent. Don't take a cab.' I got worried and ran because I thought you might be in trouble, even after you left me in the rubbish bin! But clearly, you're just fine, and why couldn't I take a cab anyway?!...There was nothing wrong with the cabs, were there?" He shut his mouth, realizing his questioning and nagging was pointless. 'I should be use to this by now,' John thought to himself.
The man we now know as Sherlock Holmes dispelled his complaining friend and stated a problem of his own," This is not made of any kind of stone I've ever seen before."
"Well, that says a lot," the Doctor John Watson mumbled to no one in particular.
"I don't recall it from my Mind Palace, either," Sherlock trails off, eyebrows still furrowed, as he still inspects the stone – eyes never leaving it. John looked very intently at his friend," I have the feeling we are going to 'run' somewhere."
Sherlock looked to his only friend with a small smile and a glint in his eye. "Are we now, Watson?" As soon as it was said, the curly-haired man turned down the old graveyard path, kicking up gravel.
Watson rolled his eyes and let out a gigantic sigh. 'Not literally,' he almost said aloud, but instead of protest, he sprinted after the maniac. Sherlock glanced back to see if his flat mate was following him, but to his dismay, he did not find his friend following. Instead, Sherlock watched a most unlikely spectacle. John had fallen back upon his bum, but what made him fall back was a shock to both of the consulting detectives. A particular blue box had materialized out of thin air.
"What tha…", the only expression John could manage was a 'What the crap just happened!?' expression. "It just appeared out of nowhere!"
"JOHN!" Was the only thing the bewildered man had heard before seeing the face of a stone demon.
A/N: I don't own Sherlock and Doctor Who, so all rights go to them, I guess. Hey, guys! This is my first fan fic so take it easy on me, or not, as long as its all good in the hood. ;D. I will be posting another chapter next week, and I promise it won't be this short! Next chapter will also have some Doctor action in it. Just wait, it'll be good. If you liked this chapter, leave me a comment or maybe some advise on how I could make this better! Thanks! And see ya next week! Before I go, I would like to give credit to Cheylock Holmes, who helped me (and curently is) write this story. I would also recomend you check out her page sometime; she's getting ready to post an outstanding Doctor Who story. 3