Chapter One: The Power of Scones

"Charles Augustus Magnussen isn't a man, he's a machine."

Charles Augustus Magnussen, or CAM to others, tended to class himself as a very emotionless person. In actuality, he couldn't exactly class himself as a person, but what was the point in clutching at straws?

He especially liked it when other people described him as a machine as this was a description (whilst highly accurate) he seemed to find highly ironic or, for lack of a better word, amusing. The truth was, in fact, Charles Magnussen was a machine and he was the greatest machine of all. He was the leader of the Daleks.

Now, becoming the leader of the Daleks was no mean feat. He'd had to work for it, and work he did. He'd worked his way up the (figurative) career ladder of the Dalek Empire and after some time (the last Dalek leader had mysteriously vaporised.), he had eventually landed the role of the leader of the Dalek Empire.

Recently there had been some upset within the Dalek fleet. A new prophecy had come about, a prophecy that predicted the end of all villains and all things evil.(Magnussen personally thought that this was cheesy as heck, but it had specifically referenced to the Empire of the Daleks so he naturally had to do something about it if he wanted to keep his current position.)

The prophecy stated that the Dalek fleet, and all evil, would be destroyed by a man. A Time Lord named The Doctor and several other companions. One of these companions was Sherlock Holmes whom Magnussen had been keeping a close eye on as of late. At first, it had seemed that Sherlock Holmes was just like anybody else, boringly human. However, Magnussen had quickly come to the conclusion that whilst he was human, he was in no way boring. There was no denying it; Sherlock Holmes was gifted. He was smart, cunning, and constantly alert. Recently, he always seemed to be one step ahead of Magnussen.

Like the stroppy teenage girl he innately was, Magnussen had become fed-up of Sherlock. He ignored Magunssen's calls, chucked away his fan-mail and rejected him every time he suggested meeting up. Well, Charles wasn't going to take it anymore; the Dalek part of him was taking over and Sherlock Holmes, his brother and all the king's men wouldn't be able to stop him.

"Sherlock, where are my trousers?" John Watson yelled, causing the only other person in flat 221-B to spill tea down his shirt.

A sharp inhale was heard from the other room along with a long string of curses. Spilling hot tea over your clothes was not a good way to start the morning.

"SHERLOCK, WHERE ARE MY TROUSERS?" John repeated, his voice reverberating off the small walls of the flat. John was getting angrier by the minute. Sherlock would hardly have been surprised if he turned into a wolf or something. Stranger things have happened before.

"Hmmm…" Sherlock thought for a moment. "They're on top of the fridge." He said bluntly.

John marched into the room, wearing a buttoned dress shirt and black Calvin Klein boxers which were exceedingly tight. Sherlock raised his eyebrows but made no comment and continued wiping his shirt in an effort to get the tea off as he was clearly too lazy to change and it was only going to leave a small stain.

John stood in front of Sherlock's chair, his hands were balled into fists and his face had gone an odd shade of pink. He was blocking the television that had been switched on in preparation for the upcoming programme. "Why are they on top of the fridge?"

Sherlock simply shrugged. "I was tidying up and it seemed like a convenient place to put them."

John wanted to question why someone with one of the highest IQ's in the world would have the same amount of common sense that a goldfish possessed but he decided to, very maturely, just glare at Sherlock. He then grabbed his trousers off the fridge and put them on; doing so in quick succession due to his repressed anger.

"I blame Mary, you know." Sherlock's voice could be heard from the kitchen.

John sighed and left the kitchen. He perched in the chair opposite Sherlock. "Okay, for once I'll go along with this. Why do you blame Mary for my trousers being on the fridge?"

Sherlock looked at John, amusement and confusion etched across his face. "Are you still on about the trousers? John, do the world a favour and get over the trousers. God, that was so two minutes ago."

John remained undeterred. "Okay, so what do you blame Mary for?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment. "Magnussen," he replied. John saw that he shivered when he'd said that, as though the very name frightened him.

"I don't even know who that is."

Sherlock shrugged. The typical arrogance was obvious in his voice. "I didn't expect you to."

The conversation was then abandoned as Adventure Time came on the television and both Holmes and Watson became totally absorbed in the show; it was their shared guilty pleasure. They had just finished the first episode when there was a knock at the door. Sherlock pretended that he hadn't heard the knock in order to avoid getting up.

"I'll get it then, shall I?" John hoisted himself out of the chair, walked over to the door and pulled it straight open, expecting it to be just another regular client.

John immediately saw that it was most certainly not a regular client. Standing, well not exactly standing, positioned in front of him was a machine of some sort. Well, he didn't know if it was a machine, but he figured that machine was as accurate as he could get. It had a weird thing sticking out of its head. John guessed that it was some sort of eyepiece. It also had two other things that John could only identify as a whisk and a plunger. All in all, the machine did not look that terrifying.

John had to stifle a laugh. "Um, what exactly are you supposed to be? You are aware that it's not Halloween yet for another two months?"

"COME WITH ME OR YOU SHALL BE EXTERMINATED," the machine bleeped at him.

Despite himself, John flinched and called for Sherlock. "Sherlock, there's a thing out here and I think it may be slightly dangerous, come over here and look."

Sighing, Sherlock reluctantly got up and joined John at the door. Unlike John, Sherlock had never heard of tact and began to openly laugh at the visitor: big mistake.

"Lovely costume," he said, his eyes aglow with laughter. "Did Mycroft send you? Is this some kind of joke?"

Apparently, the machine didn't like being taunted and to prove that it wasn't to be mocked it emitted one of its deadly rays and "exterminated" the television that was still showing Adventure Time.

The two detectives stood there, shocked, mouths agape.

Sherlock was the first to regain his composure and he was angry. "That was a seventy-two inch plasma screen TV and you blew it up!"

John looked back at the TV. Seventy-two inches? Well, it was pretty big. They had recently bought a new one as Sherlock blew up the old one after watching a particularly dramatic episode of Jeremy Kyle.

The machine ignored Sherlock's fury and repeated the order. "COME WITH ME OR YOU SHALL BE EXTERMINATED!" It then turned its Whisk of Death on John, causing them both to panic and hold their hands up in surrender.

It was a crisp, Sunday morning and the streets of London were disturbingly empty. Holmes and Watson followed the machine that had not yet introduced itself (which, in Sherlock's opinion, was just downright rude) until they ended up down a secluded alley. The machine began to glow, the two spokes on its head flashed rapidly and the two men were left standing confused as to what was happening. A flash of white light filled their visions, and they both squinted to shield from its harsh ray. When the light disappeared, they were greeted by a change in surroundings. They had literally moved. They were on some kind of ship where, the detectives saw to their dismay; they were surrounded by hundreds of machines, each one complete with their own whisks and plungers.

"I don't want you to panic," Sherlock whispered to John, his voice held a tone of bewilderment and surprise. "But I don't think we're in London anymore."

John made a sound, kind of like a snort, that was partly agreement and partly annoyance at Sherlock's obvious statement.

They stood, still as statues, not wanting to make any sudden movements to encourage extermination which did not seem like a pleasant way to die. All of the machines were silent and it appeared that they were waiting for something, or someone. Whilst they were standing the duo tried to take in their surroundings. The room that there were in reminded Sherlock of the Colosseum or the Globe. There was a massive circular space in the middle where Sherlock and John stood and around the circle lay different sections, almost like a football stadium, where the machines were positioned. They reminded Sherlock of spectators at a show, waiting for the death of a Gladiator. It looked like the detectives were there to provide the entertainment and Sherlock wanted to know who their opponent was and what the odds of them coming out alive were.

There was a large golden door positioned in an alcove. Sherlock assumed that the door was the only way in or out; if the need arose then that door was to be their only chance of escape. Suddenly, the door opened and another machine entered the room. There was a sudden atmospheric shift and all of the machines seemed to become more alert, they became rigid. It was similar to a soldier standing to attention. The newcomer was probably the leader of the machines and it was heading towards Sherlock and John. The machine was mere metres away from the pair when it stopped. Something strange then began to occur. The machine's appearance began to change, it began to transform. It grew taller and narrower. The whisk, eyepiece and plunger disappeared and a face took its place- a face that was disturbingly familiar to Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock stood, frozen in shock. It felt as though time had stopped. The moment seemed endless and Sherlock felt as though he had been stood speechless for hours whilst it had only been a matter of seconds. He knew that face; he'd had nightmares about that face. That face had haunted his mind for the last two months and had left him waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night feeling disturbed and unsettled. Now, that face was in front of him and Sherlock realised that his nightmares were not nightmares at all- they had been the truth and the truth was often hard to face. The odds were not in Sherlock's favour.

The machine, Sherlock knew that there must have been a reason for that man's lack of emotional range, was now in complete human form. He smiled, revealing his polished white teeth at the two baffled detectives. Sherlock fought the urge to shiver in repulsion.

"Hello!" The machine-now-turned-human called out in a singsong voice. He wiggled his spidery fingers in Sherlock's direction. "The great Sherlock Holmes," he smiled again and this time Sherlock allowed the shiver to pass through him. The man tilted his head. "Can I call you Sherly?"

"Magnussen," was Sherlock's blunt reply. His hands were balled into fists. "We finally meet."

John's eyes flickered between the two, he knew he had missed something and Sherlock was just about to offer an explanation when his friend's eyes widened significantly as though he had finally realised what was so strange about the situation.

"Sherly?"

"Would you care for a scone, Doctor?" The blonde, bushy-browed Brit asked. He was already on his fourth scone and seemed compelled to offer both the Doctor and his fellow nation a scone every two minutes.

"England, I don't want you to take this offensively or anything, but your scones kind of suck." The obnoxious American answered .The Doctor had thought that he had been trying alternative ways to kindly reject the Brit's scones but had obviously given up trying to be nice about it.

The Doctor sighed as he continued flying his beloved TARDIS. He was really starting to regret inviting England and America aboard the TARDIS, but then again it was hardly a choice. The Doctor owed England a favour; he had lost a bet with the Brit. He really needed to stop gambling; it was going to get him into trouble soon. The bet had been whether or not America could eat over 100 burgers without being sick. The Doctor declared this impossible, even burger fanatics could surely not devour that many in consecutive succession without being physically ill, but the Brit had merely shrugged and bet that the American could do it. England had somehow won the bet due to the American's unfathomable ability to consume an infinite amount of burgers.

America placed his hand on the Doctor's shoulder causing the Time Lord to flinch; America was very heavy-handed. "So, where are we going?"

The Doctor grinned. "Anywhere you want to."

The American nation thought for a bit before making a decision. "I know!" He exclaimed, his cerulean eyes lighting up with excitement. "Can we go see England as a child? I really, really, wanna see that!" America looked at England and laughed, the Brit's face had turned a tinge of pink as he spluttered, spitting out his scone.

"No, you bloody well cannot!" England protested, shaking his head, his blonde hair defiantly falling in his face. "Why would you want to see that anyway?" England visibly cringed and he was obviously trying to suppress a bad childhood memory.

The Doctor laughed at their harmless bickering when a screen on the TARDIS became illuminated with flashing, red warning notifications.

"Oh dear. Red, flashy warning signs! That can't be good." The Doctor began wandering around the TARDIS console looking for any signs of malfunction or danger.

The two nations ran towards the console, both looking concerned. "America, what did you do?" The Brit asked, half-jokingly, gesturing towards the screens.

"Hey, that's not nice. You can't keep blaming me for stuff that I didn't do!" America pouted and moved away from England to the other side of the console. The Doctor thought that the two nations were being incredibly over-emotional just lately. That was an issue he'd have to address later.

"Hey, don't be like that." The Brit bit his lip and his emerald eyes had softened. "I didn't mean it…" England's voice had turned gentle. They were definitely over-emotional and, if today was anything to go by, emotionally unstable in the Doctor's opinion.

America was about to reply when the Doctor's voice interrupted them.

"That's impossible!" The Doctor cried, his hands shaking as he grasped the screen. "How do they keep coming back?" His voice cracked, and America and England both rushed to his side.

"What?" An equally concerned England and America asked simultaneously.

"A Dalek ship has just been picked up on the TARDIS radar. It seems like they're up to something if they've been hiding all this time. I haven't detected Dalek activity in ages. They're supposed to all be dead, but they just keep coming back. I defeat them and they just keep coming back…" The Doctor replied, his voice was grim and his eyes were suddenly the eyes of an old man who had seen too much and was haunted by too many ghosts. In that moment, the man with the cheery personality and flamboyant appearance felt like a disguise for something damaged and scarred.

England cleared his throat. "What's a Dalek?" England asked, curiosity was evident in his voice.

"They're aliens," the Doctor explained. "Mean nasty aliens who always want to expand and take over other planets."

"Do they know Russia?" America asked, receiving a baffled look from the Doctor and a glare from England.

England rolled his eyes. "You can be such an idiot…" There was no weight behind the words.

"What? They sound like the type who would be friends with Russia," America protested, only half-jokingly.

England simply glared some more whilst the Doctor began to fiddle with the console.

"What are you doing?" England asked.

The Doctor looked at him as if it was obvious; it was obvious. "Landing the TARDIS on the Dalek ship, of course. I need to find out what they're up to and then I need to stop it. That's what I usually do when it comes to the Daleks."

England was about to say something, probably to protest, the Doctor could see that the Brit's expression was angry.

"ENGLAND!" America cried as the TARDIS sped through the Time Vortex and towards its destination, throwing all three inhabitants around.

The TARDIS made its typical whooshing sound as they landed in the cockpit of the ship. "Well, here we are. Let's go- Geronimo!" The Doctor announced as he flung open the doors, America and England were right behind him. They had only just left the TARDIS when they ran into a Dalek.

"EXTERMINATE!"

"Oh shit." America cursed, "Is that a Dalek-thingy?"

The Doctor gave a sharp inhale. "Oh, yes, that's one of them."

The Doctor examined his surroundings for a weapon to use but he couldn't see anything that would be useful. They were in a narrow, empty corridor. The Doctor was about to suggest running for their lives when America came up with an idea. "I got this! England, give me a scone!"

England sighed, reaching into his backpack which was holstered on his right shoulder. "I was saving this one for later…" He reluctantly gave the American his last scone.

"SCONES, I CHOOSE YOU!" America lobbed the scone directly at where he assumed (and the Doctor later admitted that the American was actually correct) the Dalek's mainframe would be, right in between the whisk and plunger.

For a couple of seconds nothing happened and the three travellers stood in fear and anticipation. Then, there was a huge bang and the Dalek exploded into a yellow ball of flames.

"Haha!" The American's laugh bounced off the walls of the corridor causing an infinite echo of laughter. "See England, I told you your scones were bad."

England crossed his arms and huffed. "My scones are just fine, you git."

The Doctor grinned and stared at the patch of scorched linoleum where the Dalek had once stood. "Tell that to the Dalek your 'fine' scones just killed."

A/N: So.. That's chapter one done, I honestly have no idea what I just wrote.. Um, yeah so England has Dalek-destroying scones.

Oh, also this fic is being co-written by MillieTheKitty37 and I, though it will just be posted on my profile.

Disclaimer: We own nothing.

Thanks for reading! :)

~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter.

~MillieTheKitty37