A/N I hate fanfiction sometimes. Not really, but like with the Recheinbach Fall, I knew that Sherlock was SPOILERALERT: somehow going to survive :ENDOFSPOILERALERT because of fanfictions I had read, so it was kinda ruined for me. Still an awesome episode though. Anyway when we saw Sherlock watching John I started laughing like a maniac for some reason and started saying all these ways it was impossible to kill Sherlock. It inspired this one-shot. This features the 10th Doctor as he's a little easier to do than 11. I'd love to hear what you think of it, so please R&R. :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing
John sat in The Chair, waiting for his psychologist, Ella, to arrive. She was five minutes late, rather unusual for her, and he was imagining what that would do to someone who was there for low self-esteem or neglect.
A moment later the door creaked open. He turned, expecting to see Ella walk through, maybe looking flustered and apologizing repeatedly about traffic or something like it.
Instead, a young man practically leaped into the room with a wild grin on his face as he shook his hand repeatedly. He was a fairly tall man, very lean and with wild brown hair sticking up in every direction. He was wearing a brown suit and, oddly enough, red trainers.
After a moment of rigorous hand shaking it finally registered in John's head what the man was saying. "Hello, John Watson, it's an honor to meet you. I'm the Doctor and I'm filling in for Ella."
He blinked and asked, "Doctor who?"
"Just the Doctor, thank you. Please sit down."
He obeyed, commenting as he did. "I wasn't aware that it was common practice for psychologists to fill in for each other." Again, he wondered of the different ways people could be affected if they felt like they could just be switched out.
"Oh, it isn't. But I'm not exactly common," he said with a cheeky grin. "Now, I already know from these little note thingies why you're here, but I'd prefer to hear it from the horse's mouth. So, why have you come to see your doctor after so long?"
John gave the man an odd look, but answered the question. "Well, I'm sure you've heard the news or read the papers. Sherlock Holmes, my best friend, is dead." He looked down at his hands.
He looked up again when he heard the Doctor make a tutting noise. He looked, frankly, a bit disappointed in him.
"Come now, John, surely you don't actually believe that. This is Sherlock Holmes we're talking about. You couldn't kill that man if you threw him into a super nova."
It was silent for a moment while he processed what he said.
"I was there when he took the dive off the building, the medical team officially declared him dead, and I was at his funeral, of course he's dead."
All of this hurt him to no end to say, it felt like he was discovering it all over again, but this man was confusing him and making him angry. What right did he have to talk like that, like he was stupid for thinking Sherlock was dead. He didn't want him to be, he couldn't believe it at times, but it was true, and that's why he was here to see his ruddy psychiatrist, and instead he was seeing this idiot.
The man leaned forward, looking him right in the eye.
"John, I'm going to tell you something very important, probably the truest statement you've ever heard, and you'd do well not to forget it. Sherlock is (and forgive my language but there's really no better way to put it.) a bad ass. And bad asses do not die from committing suicide via jumping off buildings. Bad asses pretend to die committing suicide via jumping off buildings to protect their friends and family. If a bad ass actually ever did die, it'd involve a lot of explosions and an end of the world type scenario. And then there's still a good chance he'd end up coming back to life, somehow. Now, if we know all of this to be true, then that means there is no possible way for Sherlock Holmes to be dead."
John just stared at him for the longest time. He'd finally come to the conclusion on what he was going to say to this man, when there was a loud yell from outside the door.
"Doctor!" A moment later, a middle aged, red headed woman ran in and practically skidded to a halt in front of the Doctor.
"I got it," she said, panting, handing him some kind of metal cylinder. The Doctor grinned widely at her.
"Brilliant, thank you, Donna."
'Donna' suddenly noticed the other man in the room. "Oh, hello, who are you then?" she asked with a slightly flirtatious smile.
"Not now, Donna," the Doctor said sternly, fiddling with the metal instrument. He pointed it and a light sparked.
"Still works then. Well, it was lovely talking to you, John, again a big honor," he said, shaking his hand again. "Remember what I said. To the best of my knowledge, I won't be seeing you, but you'll be seeing me. Allon-sy!" With that, he promptly ran out the door.
Donna groaned. "Not more running." Despite that, she gave him a small wave, then ran out after him.
He sat there for about another minute, blinking sporadically. "What the hell?"
A/N And that seems to be how all of my Sherlock/DW crossovers end. All two of them. Kinda crack, but I hope you liked it. Reviews are appreciated, flames are not. Thanks for reading. :)