Sherlock Holmes belongs to sir Arthur Connan Doyle and he gentle men for doctor who I am only playing with the characters and nothing more
It was cold barely gone holloween when she finally found him. Doctor John Hamish Watson. A captain from the army that had done his duty and returned injured.
She had watched him for an extremely long time, in hope that he was truly the Doctor Watson she was waiting for. She was the last of her group the last of the original group that had worked for the first Sherlock Holmes. She was the last of the irregulars.
She had been tasked by John Watson to return his note books to him should he and Sherlock find each other again.
They watched as the ages passed and slowly their numbers dwindled. She had seen the news that Sherlock Holmes had killed himself, she waited to see the doctor again, it took months for him to step outside 221B Baker's street.
She remembered over 200 years ago meeting Sherlock Holmes for the first time. He asked her name she had replied Imogen, she had barely been 5 years old.
Her parents had died and she and her two older brothers were living on the streets. The doctor had been so kind to her when she had gotten sick he had made her better, had said a favour for a favour.
On his death bed he had asked she wait for his return to 221B Baker's and handed her his notebooks to be returned to him when he was in greatest need of them.
Dressed in male clothing from the victorian era and with a cap hiding her long auburn locks she stood there waiting for doctor Watson to return. To awaken his memories.
"Doctor Watson?" She asked as he approached the black door of 221.
He turned to look at her she appeared to be all of 14 years of age "yes, can I help you?" He asked politely
"Actually Doctor, I am here to deliver something to you as requested by a very old friend." She bent to pick up something at her feet revelling a basket holding old notebooks
"Do I know this friend?" Asked the Doctor.
Imogen just smiled a secretive smile. "You will in time, doctor there's are the memoirs of an ancestor of yours. He asked my family return it to his descendants when the time was right. When they were in greatest need of the words hidden between these pages."
She passed him the basket. "Read them doctor may the illuminate your future my duty has come to an end good evening doctor."
She smiled as she turned to leave. John had been looking at the basket and for a second he thought he heard a cart's wheels on cobble stones, a horses whiny and an over powering scent of soot.
He turned and entered 221B he had some reading to do tonight. He pulled out a small leather notebook and looked at the left side of the cover page.
'Capt. John H. Watson' was inscribed on the right 'A study in Scarlet.' This froze John for a few moments. Then shook himself and turned the page all the while fighting a rising feeling of de ja vu.
The end.