(I do not own any of the characters in this chapter- they all belong to the BBC.)
Sherlock Holmes' morning started as it usually would; in the afternoon. A cold cup of tea sat on an elegant saucer by his bed. The cup was chipped and the saucer was from a different set of china, Sherlock dipped his little finger into the murky brown liquid and frowned as the tepid mess dripped onto his crystal white bed sheet. He rubbed at his cheekbones with his fingertips and ran his a hand through his dark, curly mess of hair, pulling at it until it felt uncomfortable.
He sighed as he sat up, bunching the sheet around him and dragging himself out of the room. He looked up at the sparse ceiling of the living room and quickly span on the balls of his feet, whipping round to face his bedroom door.
"John, I need you to-" Sherlock cut himself off and looked down at his bare feet, refusing to look back at the empty armchair that seemed even emptier without his companion sprawled across it, tapping away infuriatingly at his laptop.
"Dammit, Holmes. Pull yourself together." He growled, pacing back into the bedroom as a faint knock on the front door echoed through the room.
"Sherlock," the quaint voice of Mrs Hudson chimed as the door opened, "Are you awake? Did you drink the tea I brought you? What about food? Have you eaten yet?"
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut from behind the bedroom door, ignoring her barrage of questions. So it was going to be like this again. Sherlock didn't want to return to this. He pulled on clothes and opened his door, pushing past Mrs Hudson and the teapot in her hand. Sherlock had had enough of tea. He had had enough of everything.
"Where are you going, dear?" Mrs Hudson called.
"Out." The adolescent within him cried as he marched down the stairs and out the door into the crisp autumnal air and smoggy clouds of car fumes that followed him everywhere in London.
Sherlock edged his way past the people moving at a snail's-pace in front of him. Past the woman who was returning from an affair, fiddling with her wedding ring. Past the man who hadn't showed up to his job interview, wiping the ketchup off his tie with a résumé. Past everyone who got in his way with their own unimportant lives. Until Sherlock passed a man. A man with boisterous looks and a prominent chin, with hair that flopped over his forehead in an irritating manner. His bow-tie sat slightly askew and his suspenders clashed with his tweed jacket. Other than the fact that the man had poor fashion sense, Sherlock could see nothing, he couldn't read anything. The man with a lopsided smile and squinting eyes just was.
Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks, ignoring the people that bumped into him from behind as he scowled at the man, who was stood in an alleyway, leaning against a blue Police Public Call Box- a box that shouldn't have gone unnoticed by Sherlock for so long.
"What are you hiding?" Sherlock mumbled to himself, tilting his head in confusion and taking a few long-legged strides towards the man.
As he edged closer to the man and the box, its doors opened and a woman- no, a girl, with bright red hair and eyes that seemed to fluctuate between green and hazel emerged, stepping out onto the pavement next to the unreadable man. This girl was easy to read, long nails with chipped polish- the sign of a busy life, a sleeveless top- perhaps she wasn't expecting to be in the cold climate of London for a long time, fluctuating eyes full of awe- she was on an adventure, as if the city was just a stepping stone for her.
The girl stepped closer to Sherlock's subject of observation and mumbled something to him, smiling and looking around at the street before them. The two laughed musically, echoing pleasantly towards Sherlock, who frowned and took another step forwards. The girl's -now green- eyes locked onto Sherlock and smiled, she leaned towards the man next to her and pointed in the direction of the tall stranger, who frowned at them from in the distance.
The unreadable man lifted up a hand and waved cheerily, flashing bright white teeth in a pleasant smile. Sherlock furrowed his brow, pausing for a moment before taking the last few steps towards the unreadable man and his box.
"Who are you?" Sherlock demanded before anyone could utter a word.
"Who? Me?" The man laughed, pointing at himself and raising an eyebrow.
"No, not you, I meant- Of course you, yes!" Sherlock became heated, pacing back and forth, "Why are you here? Why can't I figure you out?!"
"Well, some puzzles are better left unsolved." The man grinned, jumping about on his tiptoes, "I'm just passing through, a visitor. Call me The Doctor."
He held out his hand which Sherlock ignored completely, staring angrily into the man's eyes. A loud coughing sound erupted beside them and The Doctor turned his head to the side quickly.
"Ah, and of course this is my lovely companion, Amelia Pond." He beamed.
"Amy." The girl corrected, smiling and waving.
Sherlock glanced at the girl and turned back to frowning at The Doctor.
"Well he's polite." Amy muttered under her breath.
"I don't intend on wasting time with impractical things like manners Miss Pond." Sherlock replied flippantly.
Amy grumbled to herself, averting her eyes from the ignorant stranger.
"I know who you are though, don't I, Mr Holmes?" The Doctor winked nudging Amy playfully with his elbow, "Sherlock Holmes, greatest detective in England. I've read your friend's blog."
"Don't talk to me about my friends, Doctor." Sherlock snapped in aggravation.
"Wait, you're Sherlock Holmes?" Amy piped up, "The one who everyone thought was dea- wait. Did that happen yet?" She asked frantically, looking between The Doctor and Sherlock.
"Has she been diagnosed?" Sherlock asked, a slight tone of annoyance in his voice, "Delusions are often associated with schizophrenia."
"Ah, well- you have 'come back from the dead' recently haven't you? (If my calculations are correct... and they usually aren't.)" The Doctor asked, maintaining his smile but letting his eyes falter slightly.
"Did he just say I have schizophrenia?" Amy asked in disbelief.
"Yes, be quiet. What calculations? What do you mean 'risen back from the dead'?" Sherlock needed answers to soothe the headache of his ever-growing frustration.
"Oh, you know. It's all wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff- just between us clever people." The Doctor mumbled, waving his hands about as he spoke.
"He doesn't seem that clever, Doctor." Amy mumbled, "He just seems angry."
"Maybe I am angry." Sherlock challenged, "Because of annoying characters like you two and your pathetic blue box that won't tell me any of the answers I need. Just tell me, Doctor. Who are you?"
"I already told you, just a visitor." The Doctor smiled, "Well, it was nice meeting you but we need to be off, places to be, planets to save."
"You won't go far Doctor. And mark my words, the next time you see me, I'll have figured you out. The next time you see me I swear I'll know who you are."
"Well, until next time, Mr Holmes." The Doctor waved, tugged at his crooked bow tie and stepped into the call box, Amy following behind.
"You can't think you're going anywhere in that thing. You're deranged!" Sherlock cried, stumbling towards them and catching the heavy wooden door as it began to swing shut.
He stepped inside the blue box and the world turned black.
~Author's notes~
Hi guys! Thanks for reading the entire chapter- it's obviously not that great for a first attempt. I'd appreciate any criticism or comments you have on the story and I'm not sure where the story is going to go so if you have any ideas or suggestions let me know! (I promise that I'll amend the horribly generic ending as soon as I can find the right way to describe the fainting!)
Thanks for reading!
Love Surprisedmouse x