Author's note:
Firstly I'd just like to say that this fanfic is mainly about JohnLock, so if you don't like that ship it's probably not the story for you.
Secondly, I'm sorry for all those people who want this to get going straight away. The JohnLock get's going half way through the third chapter and continues from there. The actual tension of the story starts in the fourth chapter. Sorry about thatxD
Thirdly, ENJOY! And also please comment? Any criticism is welcome, and I would love to know what you guys think!:) Thank you!
1. The Strangers
"John, it's the door." Sherlock paused. "John, the door." Again, there was no reply.
Usually, Sherlock would wait for John to get back, just to make him go to the trouble of fetching Sherlock the pen he needed half an hour ago. Then again, there usually wasn't the loud "bringgg" of the door every time he tried to think. Sherlock closed his eyes, but still the noise continued, over and over and over...
"JOHN", Sherlock shouted. At that moment, the room went silent again. It stayed that way for a good 30 seconds before he heard footsteps coming towards his room. Sherlock sighed.
"Sherlock?" It was Mrs. Hudson. "Ahh, Sherlock, two people are at the door wanting to see somebody here, god knows why, so I thought you'd be the best person to tell them to... well..."
"Piss off?"
"Yes." She broke off for a moment to stare around at the room, bombarded with rubbish. Newly shot holes had appeared in the wall. "Sherlock, look at the mess you've made! You had better clean this up, young man!"
"Not at the moment. Get me something to eat, would you?"
Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes. "I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper-"
"Something cold will do," he replied hastily, before setting off down the stairs. When he stepped out into the night, he stopped to find that John had arrived back from shopping already (with bags of food, so he obviously hadn't had another row with a chip and pin machine) and was talking to two people. A man and a woman; the man seemed to have bewildered John already. You could tell that he wasn't going to stop yacking away any time soon. When John saw Sherlock then, he looked utterly relieved.
Well, there's a first time for everything.
"There you are!" John said, almost hugging Sherlock as he reached him. "This is...ermm..."
"Why hello there!" the two strangers said in unison. Before Sherlock could reply the man stepped forward and shook his hand vigorously, smiling up at him. "I'm Mr. Smith, and this..." he gestured towards the girl, "is Clara."
"We're not married though", the girl said quickly.
"Personally I think 'Clara Smith' sounds lovely." The man turned his eyes towards the girl. She clenched her fists.
"For the last time," she murmured between her teeth. "I am not running away with you. I came because I-"
"What", Sherlock interrupted, "are you doing here?" John had, despite his nerves of steel, gone to stand behind Sherlock. Something about them was overpowering, especially that man...
"Oh, we're the police." The man said, and stuffed a blank piece of paper right in front of Sherlock's nose. "Just checking out the neighborhood, mind if we come in?"
Sherlock looked confused. "Well", said John, "I suppose there's no harm in that."
"What?" Sherlock momentarily gave John one of his 'why are you so stupid' looks. His gaze then rested upon the man. "What's that paper? It doesn't say anything?"
Now it was John's turn to be dumbfounded. "Sherlock, that's a pass to show-"
The man gasped. "He can't see it! Clara, he can see through the psychic paper! This man is a proper genius! Haha! What's your name, Sir?"
Sherlock looked down on him. Obviously this man was completely mad, and his little friend didn't seen incredibly normal either. But of course, normal is terribly boring. Without a hint of amusement Sherlock replied, "The name's Sherlock Holmes."
Those words hit the two strangers like a brick to the head. The cheesy smiles spread across their faces vanished, and they just stood there gaping. "W-w-what?" the man stuttered.
John, who had plucked up the courage to come out from behind Sherlock, stepped forward. "I'm sorry, but what is going on here?"
Sherlock smiled. Psychopathic? No. He always felt so proud of John, which was more than he had ever felt for anyone else before. He had tried to be alone for so long, and yet looking down at the tiny figure in front of him... one friend couldn't hurt. Definitely not.
"More importantly," Sherlock said, "where did that police box come from?" He pointed to the corner of the street where the glowing blue box was sat. He turned to the gaping idiots. "What, did you bring that with you? Honestly, it doesn't have wheels, does it? And it doesn't fly around or anything. What is it?"
The girl's face had lit up again. "Oh my god, you're Sherlock Holmes! You're the actual Sherlock Holmes!"
"Yes, I think we've all got that", John said impatiently. "What the hell is going on!?"
The man looked at John. "I think, Dr. Watson, we have some explaining to do." With that he ran off into 221B, followed by the girl.
John stopped, not moving. He didn't bother to call the strangers back. "Sherlock, how did he know my name?" With no answer, John turned to Sherlock. "Sherlock, I never told them my name. Wait...did you give them my personal information because you didn't want to give out yours? I swear I told you never to do that again, and yet you-"
"The paper he held up, what was it?"
"What?"
"I mean, what did it look like to you?"
John looked confused. "It was a pass to show that they were the police... Sherlock, are you okay?"
They recognized our names.
They decided to randomly pull along a police box with them. Weird.
And I saw paper, and John saw... something entirely different.
'When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.'
So why was there no possible truth?
"Oh, I know what this is! It's another bloody drugs bust! Did Anderson send you? The sneaky little-"
"John", Sherlock cut him off. "There is really no point in worrying over something so dull and..." Watching John striding around in a huff stopped him for a moment.
John, please don't get upset. I don't want to see someone I lov... I mean, my friend. I don't want to see one of my friends get hurt. Love? There is no such thing...
The next thing he knew, John was staring straight at him. Sherlock regained his thoughts quickly enough for him to understand what John was talking about. "Sherlock", John said carefully, and Sherlock could tell he was trying desperately not to stutter. "You know... everything. Everything there is to know about everyone. But you, YOU, can't read a thing about them. What does that tell us?"
Sherlock paused. The silence dawned on them.
"What is this!?" The girl shouted to them. When she had come into their sight, John's attention went straight from Clara to the head she was holding in her hand. It was hanging from its hair (or, what was left of its hair). Its eyes had been pulled straight out of the sockets, and the side of its mouth appeared to have been ripped off, straight across to the cheekbones, revealing the teeth and rotting gums on the left side of the severed head.
Despite John's reaction to the head, Sherlock didn't stir. "Oh my god, I am so, so sorry about that. Sherlock here keeps them for...ermmm..."
Clara just laughed. "I've seen worse", she smiled at him.
"Oh, err, right..." John's eyes had finally left the severed head and were on hers. A very awkward silence followed.
Sherlock opened one eye to gaze upon the future couple. Knowing John, he would win her over in two seconds flat. Sherlock broke the silence. "If you want to see its eyes, just look in the jar in the top right of the fridge."
"No need!" Called the cheery voice. "I've already found them! They're, ermmm... from a man... no, a woman. At the age of... 20? No, 21. Urgh, and out of date, too...""
Other than John, this was the first person who had actually ever caught Sherlock's attention. Not in the way John had, of course. John had slowly, over time, proved himself worthy of being noticed. But this man had turned Sherlock's head with a click of his fingers. Nobody could do that. Nobody.
"How did you know that?" Sherlock inquired, as calmly as he could.
"Wha war dat? Sowy?" Smith said as he entered the room, waving his tongue up and down and pulling a face like he had just tasted a sour lemon. 'Or worse' Sherlock realized. John had obviously realized where the mans tongue had been too. His expression was priceless. "Gowd, Herlock!" The man was having difficulty talking while sticking his tongue out. "Try to ge some fress eyes somefime, on't yu?"
"If I needed someone to be weird I'd ask my skull. I do not need you here." With that Sherlock turned to the door and gracefully knocked it open. "Leave, please, and take your girlfriend with you. You too John, after you pick your jaw up off the floor."
John looked even more shocked than before as he looked up at Sherlock. "W-what? Sherlock, this is my home too! You can't just-"
"Oh, but I can."
John sighed. There was no point in fighting this battle. Smith, however, obviously thought differently.
"Before I leave", the man said, "I'd like to ask you something."
"Be quick then, don't waste my time."
The man stared at Sherlock so hard that it sent a shiver down his spine. "Your skull, it's the one on the mantelpiece, right?"
"Yes. If that's all I'd like you to leave now."
"Give me one more question. Where did you get it from? Or should I say, who did you get it from?"
Sherlock froze. His whole body seemed to go into shutdown, as he remembered that day as a child, the day he was given the skull. Even now he could picture in his mind the man walking towards him, with the funny bow tie and the fez. And his face, so familiar and yet...