This is an edited version of Doomsday where I've replaced the Rose/Tenth relationship with some Johnlock. It was sort of inspired by this... watch?v=Ys_lTdsmJVk&list=FLu2an_a8PP0yVDT3ekQpjPg&index=3&feature=plpp_video which you should definitely watch if you haven't already.
Any mistakes are my own, and will be blamed on the fact that I have a cold :D
Bold is John's narration.
Unfortunately, I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to ACD and Stephen Moffat and the BBC, Doctor Who (The 10th era) belongs to RTD and the BBC.
John pounded on the white wall in front of him, "Take me back! Take me back, please, just take me back."
He leaned his forehead against it briefly before turning to the three figures behind him.
Lestrade pulled the yellow button from around his neck, and pressed it once.
"It's stopped working," he said, "he did it. He closed the breach."
John's face crumpled as he turned back to face the wall. "No," he whispered running his hand down the expanse of white. He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, "No."
Sherlock walked slowly towards the wall. He stood in front of it, placing one palm flat against it and gently tilting his head to rest his cheek on the smooth surface. The Doctor approached him slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock shrugged it off. The Doctor bit his lip and nodded, he turned and made his way back to the TARDIS; Sherlock would know where to find him.
'John'
Last night I had a dream
'John'
I heard a voice and it was calling my name.
'John'
I told Mycroft and Lestrade, and Sarah. Anyone else would think I was mad, but not those three. They believed it. Because they've met the Doctor, and they know Sherlock. So they listened to the dream. That night, we packed up, got into Lestrade's old Jeep, and off we went. Just like the dream said. We followed the voice. We kept on driving for miles and miles. Because he's calling.
'John'
Here I am, at last. And this is the story of how I died.
John strolled across the moor, taking in his surroundings. He turned as a figure appeared behind him. Sherlock.
"Where are you?" he asked plainly.
"Inside the TARDIS," he replied. "According to him," he said nodding his head at another figure behind him who gave John a small smile and a wave, "there's, and I quote, 'one tiny little gap in the universe left' which is about to close."
"It takes a lot of power to send this projection," the Doctor interrupted, "we're in orbit around a supernova. I'm burning up a sun just so he can say goodbye," he smiled.
"Well, he always was a selfish git," John chuckled. He looked at them both, "You look like ghosts."
"Oh. Hold on," said the Doctor, fiddling with his Sonic Screwdriver until the hologram became clearer.
John stepped towards Sherlock and raised a hand, "I'm still just an image," said the latter, "no touch."
"Can't you come through properly?" John asked, biting his lip.
Sherlock shook his head and turned to the Doctor.
"The whole thing would fracture. Two universes would collapse." He said, folding his arms and knitting his eyebrows sympathetically.
"So?" said John and Sherlock in unison. They turned back to each other and smiled.
"Where are we?" Sherlock asked.
"Can't deduce it?" John smiled.
"Well, maybe. But I'd rather you told me. We haven't got that much time."
John frowned and looked up at his friend, "Oh. Dartmoor."
"Dartmoor?" asked the Doctor.
"Yes, Dartmoor."
Sherlock let out a chuckle, "Out of everywhere, we come out in Dartmoor."
John laughed, "How long have we got?" he asked, his voice catching.
"About two minutes," said Sherlock.
John ran a hand through his hair. "I can't think of what to say," he said, shaking his head.
Sherlock ducked his head and smiled. He looked behind John to see three figures waiting there.
"At least you've still got Sarah," he said.
John nodded, "There's five of us now. Mycroft, Greg, Sarah and the baby."
"It's not-?" Sherlock's face twisted.
John smiled and shook his head, "No. Sarah's just a surrogate. For your brother, actually."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Mycroft? A father? That makes me a-"
"An uncle, yes," John nodded, "Quite incredible, I know."
"Well- what about you? What are you..?" he asked.
"Just working in the surgery," John shrugged, "it's something to do at least."
Sherlock nodded, "You're dead. Officially. Back home."
John winced and brought a hand up to wipe across his face.
"But you're still here. Living. Breathing. Carrying on with life," Sherlock frowned, "I'm not sure what I'll do without my blogger," he smiled.
John pinched the bridge of his nose and took a shaky breath, "Am I ever going to see you again?" he asked, his voice breaking.
Sherlock shook his head, "You can't."
"But what are you going to do?" asked John.
"You know me. Danger. Adventure. Solving crimes. And I've always got the Doctor to annoy," he sniffed.
"Promise me you won't get bored and do something stupid."
Sherlock nodded, "Don't be dull, John. I could have predicted what you were about to say."
John turned to the Doctor, "Look after him."
"Will do," said the Doctor, "Goodbye John."
"Bye Doctor," he wiped his eyes quickly.
He turned back to Sherlock, "I've- I mean- I think I've always known it, but- I… I love you," he said quietly.
Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Quite right too," he said.
John nodded tightly and smiled.
"And I suppose," Sherlock started, "if it's my last chance to say it… John Hamish Watson-"
John let out a choked sob as Sherlock faded away. He knelt on the ground, dampness seeping through his trouser legs as he held his face in his hands, tears escaping down his cheeks.
The Doctor glanced over at Sherlock from the other side of the console.
"He knows," he said, watching a single tear roll down the other man's cheek, "He's always known."
