A/N I've decided to throw a curveball at fandoms everywhere. Sure we've seen The Doctor landing in Sherlock's back yard, but have we ever seen him land in John's? Not until now! Please welcome: The Twelfth Hour! (Haha, see what I did there?) :)

It was silly. Why would Santa pay attention to him at this time of year? Besides, you couldn't just talk to him, you had to write a letter! John shook off the thoughts and concentrated on the problem at hand. He sat down on his bed and closed his eyes.

"Dear Santa… Thank you for the cars and all the other toys you've given me. It's near Halloween, so I hope I'm not bothering you with the season coming. But I promise it's important…it's an emergency."

He quickly glanced at his closet before closing his eyes tightly once more. "There's…something wrong with my closet. Harry says it's nothing to worry about, and says I'm just scared of shadows, but I know it's no ordinary closet. And I know this because…I can hear voices and strange noises coming from it at night. So, if you can, please send someone to fix it. One of your elves, or–or even a policeman!"

Suddenly, a strange sound interrupted his thoughts. It was a whooshing, grinding sound. Then it was interrupted with a crash. John looked up. "Be right back." He then jumped off of his bed and looked out his window. A blue box was lying on its side in the front yard. He went back to his bed. "Thank you, Santa." John quickly threw on a coat and hurried out the door.

John ran out of the door as he zipped up his jacket. He went over to the box and stood in front of it. Without warning, the doors swung out, steam pouring out of it and making John jump. Then a grappling hook was thrown out, latching on to the edge of the box. After a few moments of suspense, a hand grabbed on to the edge, followed by another. Then a head popped out. John took a step back.

It was a strange man. The man was soaking wet. He had ripped clothes, and this made him look awfully ragged. He grinned from ear to ear and John could only stare. "Can I have an apple?" he said. "All I can think about. Apples. I love apples. Maybe I'm having a craving! That's new, never had cravings before." The raggedy man stepped on to the edge of the box and sat down on it. He looked back down into the strange blue box and gazed at the interior. "Woooah...! Look at that!"

"Um…are you okay?" wondered John.

"Just had a bit of a fall, that's all. All the way down there, right to the library." He shook his head. "One heck of a climb to get back up."

John cocked his head slightly. "But you're wet. If you fell into the library, how are you wet?"

"I was in the pool."

John got a bit annoyed. "But you said you were in the library!"

"So is the pool."

There was a short silence between the two. "Are you a policeman?" John asked. The man inspected John for a moment.

"Why? Did you call a policeman?"

"Yeah, I did," said John with a nod. "Or at least I guess I did. Did you come about my closet?"

"Closet?—" The raggedy man stopped short a jerked a little bit and fell off of the box on to the soft soil. John gasped.

"Are you okay?" The strange man jumped up and opened his mouth and some strange gold dust floated out. John's eyes widened. "Who are you?"

"Not quite sure yet. Still cooking." The man shook his head and smiled. "Does it scare you?"

"It's actually not scary, just a bit weird."

"No no, the closet," the man clarified.

"Oh, well, I guess I am."

The man grinned. "Well I can help." He bounced up and down and looked at his hand, softly glowing gold.

"Who are you?" asked John again.

"I'm The Doctor," he said proudly. He turned around and walked straight into a tree.

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The Doctor and John and were both in the kitchen as John searched the fridge for an apple. The Doctor casually looked around the room, taking everything in. "If you're a doctor, why does your box say 'police' on it?" John handed him an apple and he took it, looking slightly affronted. He sniffed it and took a bite. He then nonchalantly spit it out. John scrunched his face as the bits of food flew past his face.

The Doctor held up the apple. "This is disgusting. What is it?"

"It's an apple, like you asked for."

"This is gross. I hate apples, apples are rubbish."

John was confused. "But you said you loved apples!"

"No no no no, I like yogurt. I need yogurt. Yogurt's my favorite. Gimme yogurt."

John rushed to the fridge and grabbed a blueberry yogurt. He closed the door and went over to The Doctor. The Doctor snatched the yogurt and took a big mouthful, promptly spitting it back out. "Yogurt. It is so bland. It's just stuff with bits in it."

"But you said it was your favorite!"

"Not anymore. New mouth, new rules. It's like eating after brushing your teeth. Everything tastes WROOOONNNGG!" The Doctor's head jerked back, as if feeling something course threw his body. He brought his hand up to his forehead and slapped as he straightened once more.

"What is it? Are you alright? What's wrong with you?" asked John intensively, pestering The Doctor with his questions.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing's wrong with me! It's not my fault I can't get any decent food. You're British; make a pastry or something. How 'bout crumpets?"

"I can't could pastries," confessed John. "But I can cook some meat."

After several minutes of him frying bacon and The Doctor drying himself with a towel, John gave him the food. "Oooooh, bacon! Bacon's good." The Doctor began to eat as soon as the plate was put in front of him. John was feeling proud of himself until The Doctor spit the food into his hand and put it back on the plate. "This is bacon," The Doctor stated. He leaned in close. "Are you trying to poison me?"

After going through beans (which were spit into the sink and being declared as "bad bad beans") and bread and butter (which was immediately thrown out the door and told to stay out) John was running out of options. "I have some carrots," he suggested.

"Carrots?" asked The Doctor in horror. "Are you mad? Wait!" he said. "I know what I need!" He ran over to the fridge and opened it, taking out two boxes. "Fish fingers…and custard!"

A few minutes later, John was sitting across The Doctor at the table. The Doctor was dipping the fish fingers into the custard and eating them while John had some plain custard.

"Interesting," said John.

"Interesting. That's often good. I'm glad I'm interesting. Great. What's your name?"

"John Watson."

"Interesting. Like the man from the Sherlock Holmes stories." John gave The Doctor a confused look. "The colleague of Holmes. Watson." John continued to give him a confused look. "Right. Your parents must have thought it through. Speaking of which, shouldn't we have waken them by now?"

"They're not here."

"Is anyone else here?"

"No. My sister's at a friend's house."

"So you're alone?"

"I'm not scared!" protested John.

"Of course you're not scared! You're not scared of much. Box falls out of sky. Man climbs out of box. Man eats fish custard. You wanna know what I think of all this?" John gave him a look that said: 'What?' The Doctor leaned back in his chair. "That must be one heck of a scary closet you have."

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The Doctor examined the closet as John stood at the door. "I wasn't very fond of apples before. Then my mum started putting words and pictures on them, so I ate 'em." He held out an apple with the letters I O U. The Doctor gave it a weird look as he put it in his pocket. John walked up to the closet. "Can you find out what's wrong?" he inquired. The Doctor put his ear to the closet door and rubbed it, knocking on it occasionally.

He pushed himself away from it and took out a small silver device with a light at the top. "Have you ever opened this closet, John?"

He shook his head. "No, actually."

"Now why would you never open a closet?" The Doctor asked.

"Because it couldn't be opened." The Doctor turned to John. "Can you fix it?"

"Maybe. You know how an adult says everything will be fine but you know they're lying?" John nodded. "Everything's going to be fine."

The Doctor pointed the strange device at the closet. He pressed a button and it buzzed and glowed blue. There was a bang and the door swung open. John's mouth was agape.

There was a whole different room inside! But it was definitely not part of the house. It was futuristic, but a bit dark, since the lights weren't on. The Doctor was not phased by this in any way whatsoever, seeming to have had experience with this sort of thing. Suddenly, someone came into view. They were of normal height, but wasn't a normal human at all. They had two extra fingers (as the glove indicated) on each hand. They were bald, but the head was wavy. The actual head! They seemed shocked that The Doctor and John were looking in through the doorway. "Intruders! Raise the alarm! There are two intru—" Though the strange person didn't get to finish the sentence. The Doctor slammed the door shut and pointed his small machine at the doorknob, making a buzz and a click.

John was in shock. "Who was that?" he asked worriedly. "What was that?"

The Doctor started pacing the room. "That was a Chuntarian. An alien. They hunt people then collect and sell the corpses. It's morbid, but it's their way of life. That was the Chuntarian ship, but why does your closet lead to it?" Then some strange noises interrupted. The Doctor looked out the window. "No!" He ran down the staircase and ran out the door. He hurried to the box. "It needs to be fixed. Quick jump into space at the edge of the solar system and jump into the future should give a good start. That should do it!"

"Jump into space? Jump into the future? How? It's just a box!"

"It's not just a box! It's a time machine. It can travel through space too."

"But I want to go with you!" protested John.

"You can't. It'll kill you until it's fixed. Five minutes, that's all. I'll be back in five."

"Then can I go?"

"Maybe. Geronimo!"

The mysterious blue box disappeared with grinding whooshing noises and the light on top blinking. John ran back inside and into his room. He took his backpack off of its hook and began putting clothes and other things in it. He zipped it up and ran outside with it, proper shoes and a cap on. He went into the front yard and sat down on the short brick wall. He sat there and waited, telling himself: "He said five minutes, it'll probably just take one more." John continued telling himself this for quite a while. Sooner than he though he would, John fell asleep, only to be found by his sister the next morning.

A/N Thanks for reading! Any thoughts? Let me know by clicking that review button :)

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