Disclaimer: I own neither Sherlock BBC or Dr. Who. Both are excellent and well worth watching. This crossover is merely for fun.
Mycroft Holmes was going to vote for Harold Saxon this year as prime minister. Not because he'd had his lovely assistant obtain a signed and personalized copy of Saxon's autobiography or because afterwards he'd devoured it in the space of an hour while eating a bag of chocolate bars. Nor even because of popular poles online- which was what usually swayed his vote. Or Saxon's personal appearance, although he was not half bad all things considered. It was certainly not for Saxon's morals, with which Mycroft felt his personal psychologist would have a field day if the man bothered to pay attention to politics.
No, he was going to vote for Saxon because of the psychic bubble which seemed to affect everyone in the greater London area. He'd first noticed the problem talking to his aforementioned psychologist, who had blatantly indicated he was going to vote for Saxon- and then couldn't tell Mycroft why. Then Mycroft got truly suspicious when he talked to Sherlock over the phone and his brother, who likewise normally could care less about politics, talked about Saxon positively.
After that, Mycroft staged his own poles in several nearby malls, having several of his assistants asking questions with clipboards and snazzy outfits. The results were astounding. 97% of the people were leaning toward Harold Saxon, and even kids too young to vote were joining the bandwagon, saying that they'd vote for him as well, if they were of age. People simply were usually much more ambivalent about politics. In fact, he'd recently read that only 1 out of 5 people were even registered to vote. Now everyone was jumping at the chance to register- and vote for Saxon.
Saxon's competitors this year didn't stand a chance.
In fact Saxon rather reminded Mycroft of Bubble Shock, the drink that had come out earlier that year and which had later mysteriously vanished due to some kind of health violation code. Saxon had to be planning something. This kind of reaction certainly was not natural and the fact that Mycroft was the only person noticing things weren't adding up was even more unusual.
If Bubble Shock had been a health violation code, then Saxon was lining up to be a plague. Mycroft knew politics. He knew politicians, too. The man was dangerous and if Saxon's biography "Kiss Me, Kill Me" had told him anything it was that the man had no compunctions whatsoever. The world was Saxon's oyster and Saxon knew it. Megalomaniac, unstable, and in power with a magnetic personality that drew people to him like flies? Saxon was a poster child for tyrant, if he didn't end up insane first. Or both at the same time.
The only good thing about Saxon was that Mycroft was sure Saxon at least could get things done. Mycroft had seen laws passed through and ordinances moved that he was sure would have taken the next five years otherwise and all that they had needed was Saxon's silver tongue.
Unfortunately the only way to take advantage of the man's gifts at this time was to back him up and join the crowd, stand out from the rest, and hope the man didn't break before his term was over.
With a sigh, Mycroft Holmes stood up and reached for his cane. His assistant Althea stood by the door texting a message and looked up briefly. "Well my dear. It seems I have a meeting with a maniac to attend."
"Your brother again, sir?'
Mycroft barked out a laugh, relishing her dry, disinterested, but beautiful voice. "Good guess. No. Harold Saxon. Will you be voting for him, do you think?"
Althea had already turned back to her phone. "Eh . . . no."
"As you say, Althea. Let's be off."
