Hello~
Wholock, is in my mind, something that needs to happen. Even as , maybe a special in Children in Need or something. just NEEDS to happen. But it hasn't yet...
So I wrote this :P Do be kind and let me know what you think :P
Baker Street is empty, as he expected. The thought is a little sobering, and he takes the precious few minutes he has to scan the room intently for details. John is evidently living here still, the table cluttered, and a jumper thrown across the back of a chair. He finds that odd; he is so used to Johns immaculately tidy habits. John is the type who folds a dirty tea towel into little squares before placing it in the laundry. He irons his clothes to within an inch of its life. It is unnatural for him to be messy. That is Sherlock's job.
Newspapers, magazines, and all manner of paper fill the empty space on the coffee table, and he can see that one of the headlines blares out about his apparent confession and subsequent suicide. Why John would bother to keep such drivel is beyond him. It has crinkled, crumpled from overuse and he realises with a pang that John is obsessing.
There is only a single coffee ring staining the varnished surface. John is living alone. Sherlock isn't sure whether he is pleased by that notion, or not.
Emotions at the best of times annoy him, bothersome things that they are, but even more so when he cannot sufficiently identify them. There is a lump in his throat and his eyes burn a little, enough that he is forced to blink salty tears away.
Sorrow.
However, the rest of it is a hopelessly jumbled, tangled mess. He wants so desperately to tell John that he is alive. He does not dare to. He finds himself reduced to sneaking into his own flat in order to steal his own possessions and he must do so without telling John or Mrs Hudson, for fear of their lives.
Why on Earth he had thought it a good idea to get emotionally attached was beyond him, he thought bitterly. When did it ever become a good idea to care?
"Feeling regretful?"
The voice is quiet in the empty flat. He does not turn.
"i'll just be a moment more." He says with enforced casualness, equally quiet in the dim light. He stares down at an open magazine, at his own face and an article entitled, "Believe."
His acquaintance nods once, thoughtfully, a wave of brown hair flopping over his forehead. Dark brown eyes, so ancient and wonderful, survey the flat with mild interest.
"It's only a while longer." He says to Sherlock, staring at the skull on the mantlepiece. "and then no more sneaking about. Just until we stop the Master, or as he's calling himself, Moriarty. Until then, you'll just have to stay with me."
Sherlocks lips thin, turn pale in their anger.
"I wish you had thought to warn me that he was like you. I wish I had known he would not die so easily."
His voice wants desperately to rise, to shout and let some of this godforsaken frustration out. But he knows that Mrs Hudson is asleep in her own flat and so he cannot dare.
It trembles instead, faltering and he hates it with every fibre of his being.
The man in the doorway raises an eyebrow coolly, digging his hands into pinstripe pockets.
"Perhaps I had thought you would deduce it, Sherlock Holmes."
This makes a muscle in his jaw twitch.
"I am aware I missed the signs. But he didn't broadcast them like you did. He wanted to be hidden." He seethes, cursing himself for his own blatant stupidity. He knew Time Lords, or at least the signs to look out for. It was not his fault Moriarty hid his double heartbeat. Not his fault.
It was entirely his fault. He had placed John at risk by not seeing the signs. Had he realised that the man who challenged him was more than human, was more than they, in their limited knowledge could handle...
The thought overwhelms him for a moment, and he realises with ice cold dread that that he is exactly that -limited. He may well be a genius, above the norm, but he is human too. He cannot defeat that which he is less than.
His knees shake and he tumbles, collapses into his leather armchair. His head is in his hands. They are trembling. When did that happen?
"...Breathe, Sherlock." His acquaintance reminds him gently. This is not the first time that this has happened. It is embarrassing to think on it, or rather, it would be, if he were in any state to actually care.
He breathes.
"He is just like you." Sherlock says softly, not looking up. "He is far superior to us because he is more. He will just keep coming back, again and again and-"
"No." States the Doctor firmly. "Not greater, not ever greater. You forget, Sherlock, that you are human."
A short laugh echoes around the room and it takes a moment to realise that the sound is his own voice.
"That was rather my point."
"It isn't a weakness to be human." The Doctor states firmly. "Because to be human is so, so wonderful. All those clever little ideas you get, all those hopes and fears and dreams and emotions!" His green eyes swirl with wonder and his tone is almost reverent.
"Distractions." Sherlock dismisses.
"No, not at all! You still don't get it!" The Doctor darts suddenly, his hands raising to gesture wildly. "Time Lords are limited. The Master, Moriarty, whatever...He is limited and he always will be, because he isn't human. He sees you all as animals, as silly, stupid little apes that don't stand a chance against him, but just look at you, Sherlock Holmes! You stood against him, not once, but twice and here you are, still fighting! You beat him at his own game and saved John didn't you?!"
Sherlock stares at the alien pacing across his living room.
"Didn't you?!"
"Yes." Sherlock admits, stunned.
The Doctor positively beams.
"So there. Now, should we go and stop him so that I can finally see John hit you for lying to him?"
Sherlock stands, tugs at his lapels so that they stand up, his trademark look.
"Shall we, Doctor?"
The Time Lord gestures to the door and then pauses, a finger raised.
"Don't you forget, once we've done this, you've my case to solve. Rose and I have got a bet on whether you can or can't do it."
Sherlock smirks.
"I'd get Rose to hand over her fiver then. The answer is already obvious and you've yet to give me all the details."
So did you love it, hate it? Leave a review in the little box! I'm considering doing maybe another chapter in which John runs into a blonde in a chip shop. Thoughts?
Until the next time!
AbsentDaydreamer xx