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Sherlock looked up at the noise. 'What was that?' John looked at him. 'What was what?' 'That noise. Was that you?' 'No. maybe you're imagining things.' Sherlock scoffed. 'Please. I don't imagine things.' He looked back at his laptop, but couldn't shake the curiosity that had overcome him. Sighing, he closed the laptop and stood. 'I'm going out.' He said, grabbing his coat. 'Good, could you get some milk while you're out?' Sherlock frowned and left the apartment.
He wandered down the street, scanning for anything different. As he approached the end he stopped. He looked into the alley at his side. Was that a police phone box? Those didn't exist anymore. He walked up to the front and examined the lock. Simple enough, standard five pin. He removed a lock pick from his pocket and not five minutes later he stepped back. He pulled open the door and stepped inside.
'Oh, my God.' he muttered, turning around. 'How? This is impossible.' 'Not Impossible,' Said a voice behind him, 'just a bit unlikely.' Sherlock spun to face the man. He had a lopsided grin and a kind face, yet Sherlock gazed at him stiffly, not trusting someone who seemed so unfazed by this. The man removed one hand from his pocket and held it out. 'I'm the Doctor, and this is Martha and Jack.' Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'Your companions seem to have lost you.' he noted. The doctor turned around. 'Hold on.' he ran outside and returned a moment later with a man in a military coat and a young woman. 'Martha and Jack.' Said the doctor, gesturing to them. 'Sherlock Holmes.' Sherlock extended his hand. The doctor shook it with both of his own, grinning widely. 'Sherlock Holmes, of course, only you would see a box in an alleyway and think 'Gee, I wonder what's inside?' Well, this is brilliant, it really is.' Sherlock stared at him. 'You're old. Older than you look. Impossibly old. As are you Jack. Not as old as him, but still, very old.' Jack spoke for the first time. 'Wow, He's got us figured out. Smart and Handsome. I like it.' he licked his lips involuntarily. Martha elbowed him in the arm. 'Don't mind Jack.' They both moved up the steps and sat on the seats around the centre console. The doctor spoke. 'How'd you figure it out then, tell us. I know there's more, go on.' Sherlock saw this as an invitation and smiled. 'You first then doctor, your eyes. You've lost far to much for a man your age. Then there's the way you change. Yes, of course you change. You can't seem to decide who you are, indicating that you've been a few different forms, each with different characteristics. This of course means you aren't human, which doesn't make sense, but then again, you don't make sense. The way you walk, like you're the most important thing in existence, which means there can't be many, if any, of your kind left.' He turned. 'Then there's you, Jack. Same thing, eyes too old for someone your age, but you don't change, no, you stay the same, and you are completely certain of who you are. That, coupled with your coat, original, but they aren't made any more. In fact, they haven't been made for over one hundred years, yet you don't look a day over forty. Obviously, when you get injured, you just heal. You physically can't die. Martha, you're a doctor. You were on the news a few months ago. Disappearing hospital, then it suddenly turns up again, survivors saying they were on the moon. My, Doctor, you do seem drawn to the unusual, don't you? Then again, you are unusual yourself. Am I wrong?' They stared at him, stunned. He nodded. 'Obvious.'
The doctor broke the silence. 'Well, I knew you were good, but that was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, but you can't stay, I'm afraid. You've got your own doctor to get back to, that Watson.' Sherlock nodded. 'Before I go, though, I must ask, How does this box exist?' 'Oh, this is the TARDIS. Time and relative dimension in space. It's, well, it's bigger on the inside. Time lord technology.' 'And you're one of these Time lords, then?' The doctor nodded. 'The last, in fact.' For a second his eyes were incredibly sad. Sherlock noticed and commented. 'A war, wasn't it? Who against?' 'Daleks, they're called, My, you are incredible. What all the races in the universe wouldn't give for a mind like yours.' Sherlock allowed a smirk to cross his face. Jack leant forward. 'Tell me, how did you know? I mean, that's impossible.' Sherlock sighed. 'I don't know, I notice.' Sherlock sat and looked at the doctor. 'Well, I can't leave now, you've piqued my interest.' the doctor shook his head. 'I'm afraid you don't have a choice. We weren't really meant to come here.' Sherlock nodded. 'Fine.' he stood and made his way towards the door, but when he went to open it, it was locked. 'Doctor? Would you mind unlocking the door?' The doctor looked confused. 'It can't be locked, it locks from the outside.' As he walked downstairs to check, the TARDIS started up. 'Oh no.' he muttered. They all gripped the bars around the console. 'You didn't do this.' noted Sherlock. 'No. I didn't. This isn't good.' Sherlock scanned the faces of the others. They all seemed equally confused. He nodded, as though accepting his fate.
The TARDIS landed with the same shuddering noise that had drawn Sherlock out in the first place. The doctor did a quick scan. 'Still on your world, good. Might need to get back to London, but still…' he trailed off. Sherlock was at the door, leaning casually against the frame. 'Where are we exactly, doctor? I know you know.' the doctor looked down. 'Ahh, well, Ireland… um, it seems to be… 1991.' He shrugged. 'Well, might as well look around. Not everyday you get to… wait. You didn't grow up…?' 'No, of course not.' 'Right, well, what harm is there in looking around.' he grinned and ran down the stairs. 'Allons-y!'
They wandered down the less than impeccable street they had landed on, Martha looking slightly odd on the end as the only one without a long coat flowing behind her. They looked around curiously. Sherlock furrowed his brow. He was certain he had forgotten something. Ireland, Ireland, what was it? He looked up suddenly. 'Oh…' 'What?' Jack looked at him. '1991. Oh no.' 'What?' The doctor and Martha were looking now. 'James Moriarty is about eleven at the moment. This is the year he commits his first murder. Carl Powers.' Sherlock looked around suddenly. A young boy was leaning against the fence, watching them. 'Who are you?' He called to them. 'Have you come to help me? Only you look like you work at the government, and I called you weeks ago.' They moved towards him. 'I can prove it.' He said. 'There are marks and everything. I'm not lying, even if Carl told everyone I was.' He rolled up his sleeve, showing dozens of small, finger sized bruises. He twisted his arm, showing reddish-white scars, forming three large letters. I O U. Sherlock stepped backwards. 'What's your name?' 'James, sir. James Moriarty.' the boy gave him a weak grin 'No, we aren't here to help you. We have to go now.' He turned and began to walk quickly back the way they had come. The doctor looked at the boy.' We'll be right back, I promise.' he said, then turned and ran after Sherlock. 'That was him. Moriarty. At some stage this year he will murder a boy. We have to leave. I have enough problems to deal with without having to babysit a serial killer.' 'The doctor looked at him. 'If you think it's right, we'll go.' The doctor looked away from Sherlock, who didn't seem to notice or care.
The TARDIS landed with the shuddering noise Sherlock was beginning to get used to. He walked towards the door, turning as he opened it. 'Goodbye doctor, Jack, Martha.' He walked out and carefully closed the door. As it was closing, he heard Martha inside. 'Bit of a freak, isn't he?' He closed his eyes and looked back down Baker street. With a slight sigh, he made his way back towards his flat, pushing thoughts of the doctor from his mind. He turned and watched as the TARDIS dematerialized, the space looking odd without it. With a final nod, he resigned the memories to a distant forgotten corner of his mind palace.
XXX
Let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't.
Sherlock shook his head, barely in the conversation. Jim didn't even seem to notice that he had to ask, rather than knowing already. The sentence barely registered. 'John.' he muttered.
Not just John. Everyone.
He stared at the man in front of him. How could he have been so young, so innocent? He shook his head. He was vaguely aware of the rest of the conversation. Then a gun went of. Jim fell backwards, his eyes still retaining some of their former malice. Sherlock shakily climbed on to the roof. He held his phone to his ear and spoke. He told the whole story, that he was a fake, had hired Richard Brook to play Jim Moriarty. 'Goodbye John.' as he fell he could have sworn he heard the familiar rumble of the TARDIS. He felt himself suddenly covered by someone's arms. With great effort, he opened his eyes. The doctor grinned at him and helped him stand. 'Not yet.'
So... Please please pleeeeeeeaaaase review. i love you all. okay bye.