Author's Note: Co-written with a real-life friend of mine who prefers not to be identified. This is the beginning of something much longer - 15+ chapters by the end, if we ever finish it (about a third of it is done so far). This says "epilogue" at the start because the chapters are numbered from the Doctor's perspective, and this chapter features an unspecified future Doctor. ANYWAY...
EPILOGUE: It All Makes Sense at the End
Sherlock's subconscious
No discernible time
It all started with an odd dream. Sherlock Holmes was sleeping soundly. Very soundly, which was very odd, because never slept soundly. He had trained himself not to. Actually, he rarely slept at all, but when he did, he trained himself not to sleep soundly. Part of being a high-functioning sociopath - he was always alert.
This dream was hardly even a dream - it was just a bunch of mist. Dark mist, an almost black shade of blue. Then, a man stepped out of the mist and swiftly changed Sherlock's life.
Sherlock tried to deduce the man by his appearance, but he couldn't. He just had an air about him that seemed to make him inhuman - almost alien - although the man was clearly human. At least, that was Sherlock's assumption. After all, there was no such thing as life in outer space... was there? No, there wasn't. All of Sherlock's senses and intuition suggested that there wasn't.
"Hello, Sherlock," the man said. He had a smile on his face - a sad smile, like they were old friends who would never meet again.
Sherlock, in one of those rare instances that everyone in New Scotland Yard yearned to see, was confused. "Who are you?" he asked. It was a fairly dull question, but Sherlock had no idea who this man was. He had no choice but to be dull, no matter how much he hated doing that. Immediately, Sherlock realized the inherent stupidity of the question. He was having a dream, so the man was obviously a figment of his imagination.
Except it didn't feel like a dream. It felt real. But often times, dreams did feel real. Not for Sherlock, though. He was more intelligent than most people - he could typically distinguish between dream and reality. But this was harder. Whatever this mist-filled place was, he felt like he was actually there.
"You don't know me yet," the man said. "I might as well introduce myself." He walked up to Sherlock and outstretched his hand. "Hello. I'm the Doctor."
Sherlock stared at him. "The Doctor? That's your name? Doctor who?"
The man - the Doctor - laughed a little sadly. "Just the Doctor. Nothing else."
"That makes no logical sense."
"Does it need to?" This "Doctor" man dropped his hand to his side.
"Yes, it does!"
"Well, you see, 'The Doctor' is just my nom de guerre. I do have a real name, but I only tell it to my closest friends. I do consider you one of my closest friends, but since you don't know me yet, I can't rightfully tell you. It's one of the drawbacks of being a time traveller."
"Time traveller‽ That's utter nonsense."
The Doctor let out a sharp laugh. "Oh? Nonsense, you say? As nonsensical as this?" He waved a hand, indicating the entire mist-filled room, or landscape, or whatever it was. "Think about it. What's the last thing you can remember before being here?"
"I was..." Sherlock dug through the archives of his mind palace, trying to find the most recent memory. "I was... oh, no. Nonononononononono-"
"What?" the Doctor asked.
"I was running as fast as I could. I needed to go back to the flat for something... John. I had to tell him something. Then, all of a sudden, a car came barreling towards me. I don't even know what the driver was doing, but I didn't have time to get out of his way and..."
"You were hit." The Doctor finished.
Sherlock nodded gravely. "That gives me three possible options for where I am right now. I'm either in heaven - unlikely - in a coma and dreaming - somewhat likely - or living my life with short-term memory loss due to the accident - also somewhat likely, but given my profession, I doubt that is the case. For my sake, I'm hoping it's the second of the three."
The Doctor smiled a bit. "You're correct in your deductions. You are indeed in a coma, although that will end in five, four, three-" He made a motion with his hand like he was dropping something on the ground. "Goodbye, Sherlock. Have fun with my past selves!"
"What? Wait! Don't do that! I still have to ask you something!" Sherlock shouted.
"He's awake!" said the doctor. The doctor, with a lowercase "d."
To be continued...
Next time on The Adventure of the Dozen Doctors: The house was practically falling apart. The shutters were falling off, the wood decomposing and the roof completely demolished. No one had lived there in a long time. Sherlock put his hand against the stone wall that surrounded the house. His fingers touched an engraved symbol of two interlocking circles...