Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I wrote it a few days before The Reichenbach Fall aired, so it deviated from that storyline. I wasn't really imagining a specific place on the Doctor's timeline, but it could possibly fall sometime after Rory fell into the crack and before he returned as a Roman, but it's not important to the story. Enjoy and please review, as I said it's my first fanfiction and I'd love to hear reviews so I can improve. Thanks!
"Welcome, Amy, to 221B Baker Street," the Doctor grinned, swinging open the door of the Tardis and waiting for Amy's gasps of awe and amazement. Amy poked her head out, skeptically surveying the busy London street.
"If this is the 21st century, why are these cars flying?" she sighed. When they next see River, she'll have to ask her to teach him how to properly fly the Tardis. He really is hopeless.
"May have overshot it a little bit…" he trailed off, scratching his head. He soniced the door to 221B, which looked ancient in comparison to the neighboring buildings constructed of glass and covered in solar panels. "Just as I suspected, early 23rd century London. 221B is just a museum now."
He looked up to see Amy glaring at him, arms crossed and brows raised. "You promised to introduce me to that super detective from the papers. I thought you knew him."
"I do! We'll just head back to the 21st century. But first…" the Doctor eagerly opened the door, gazing hopefully at Amy with his best puppy face.
"Oh alright, just a quick look around! Honestly, what is it with you and museums?"
The Doctor pushed the door open, all but skipping inside, excitedly running from artifact to artifact, soaking it all in. Amy watched him turn the corner out of her sight, grinning slightly at his childish display.
"AAAMMMMMYYYYY!" the Doctor shouted, and Amy hurried over to where he was staring at a large glass case filled with rubble.
"Do you see that, Amy?" the Doctor asked, pointing to a rather large chunk of concrete.
"If I say yes can we get back to the Tardis sooner? I want to actually meet Sherlock Holmes, not run around his museum!"
"Well Amy, this happens to be what could be salvaged from the wreckage of Reichenbach Bank, and that-" he pointed at the large chunk again, grinning with the promise of new adventure "is a message."
Squinting, Amy could faintly make out a short message. Doctor, I require your assistance immediately –SH followed by some symbols that Amy recognized from River's cliff message as coordinates. When she looked up, the Doctor was already disappearing out the door.
When Amy finally swayed up to the center console, the Doctor was already pushing buttons and flipping switches furiously.
"Let's get it right this time, girl," he purred to his loyal machine, flipping the lever so that she hummed in agreement.
"Alright this time for real. Welcome, Amy, to 221B Baker street," the Doctor announced, swinging the doors open dramatically.
He tilted his head, confused. He seemed to be parked horizontally, as all he could see was the cloudy sky. He opened his mouth to speak, when two figures appeared above him, struggling with each other, and falling straight for him. The Doctor barely had time to step out of the way before the two flew through the doors, landing with a splash in the library's pool.
Amy and the Doctor exchanged a look, and rushed after the unexpected visitors, offering their hands to help the men from the water.
"SHERLOCK!" the Doctor grabbed the tall man in an overexcited hug before kissing him on both cheeks. Sherlock ignored the Doctor's social niceties and frantically scanned for Moriarty.
"Umm, Doctor?" Amy called from across the pool.
She had pulled the other man from the water, who had a decently large gash across his forehead. The Doctor knelt next to her, sonicing the unconscious criminal.
"Well he's not dead or mortally wounded, but it will take him some time to recover."
"Hopefully long enough to deliver him straight to Scotland Yard for his arrest," Sherlock added. "Jim Moriarty is the most dangerous criminal in London, and I appreciate your assistance Doctor. He'll get multiple life sentences for his crimes, I'm sure."
"Jim Moriarty?" the Doctor perked up. "No, no, Moriarty died at Reichenbach…"
"Did we mess up history, Doctor?" Amy whispered. The Doctor often warned her of the consequences of changing the past.
The Doctor stared at the evil genius, his mind whirring through the foreseeable consequences and the possible alternatives.
"Unless…well they never found his body…" the Doctor trailed off, scrunching his face with thought.
"Are you sure it's alright to leave him here?" Amy asked. "I mean he is a dangerous criminal, and a hospital is not exactly a prison."
"Don't worry, the staff of New New York Hospital owe me a favor, assuming there's no more Flesh running around here. And ever since that little incident, the New New York Police have kept a close eye on this place. I've explained the situation to the sisters and the police, and they've agreed that once he is healed he should be incarcerated for his own good. Waking up on a different planet 5 billion years in the future can be quite overwhelming, it's better he stays away from society."
Sherlock absorbed his surroundings furiously, the Doctor had never taken him to another planet before. These feline humanoids are beyond fascinating.
"Better get you home, Sherlock. Your doctor must be getting worried," the Doctor said with a wink to Amy, who realized he's talking about the blogger and confirmed bachelor from the papers.
"Oh, all the good ones are gay!" Amy muttered under her breath. Another attractive and intelligent man lost to the other team.
The time-travelers loaded back onto the Tardis, disappearing in a whir.
"Here we go, Sherlock, back at 221B. It was great seeing you again, if you ever need further assistance, you apparently know how to reach me," the Doctor grinned, still impressed that Sherlock had figured out how to determine his coordinates in the time vortex, let alone how to write them. Him and his deductions, definitely one of the greatest human brains the Doctor had ever seen.
"Yes, Doctor, thank you," Sherlock coughed, obviously new to giving thanks, "For ridding us of Moriarty, and of course, for saving me."
The last part was a little quieter, but the Doctor smiled and nodded, "Anytime, my dear Sherlock."
With that the Doctor returned to his wondrous machine, the doors swinging open at the snap of his fingers. As the Tardis dematerialized, Sherlock opened the door to his flat, trudging up the stairs after a long day and a brush with death. He sank into his favorite chair, putting his fingers together and processing his latest encounter with the strange Doctor he would never fully understand. After who knows how long, he heard footsteps and a thud, and looked up to find John standing in the doorway, staring at him.
"John I hope you've been at the store, we were out of milk last time I checked, and I'm in serious need of a good cup of tea," Sherlock said, returning to his previous position of intently staring at the ceiling with his fingers pressed together at his chin.
"Sherlock. How?" John stuttered, his throat constricting at the sight of his friend.
"How what, John? You really should complete your sentences for clarification. How are we out of milk? We just make a lot of tea, John, I don't understand your confusion."
"You're dead. You've been dead. For three years." John's voice was trembling as the memories came flooding back, his stomach turned as if he'd belly flopped into a pool of broken glass. The phone call from the police, a witness had seen Sherlock and Moriarty struggling on a roof before toppling over the side. The bodies were never found, they were assumed to have fallen into the river and washed away, or perhaps Moriarty's men had been watching and collected them before the police arrived. Either way, one thing was for certain, no one could have survived a thirty story fall. Not even the great Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock looked at John, panic in his eyes. "What is the date, John," he questioned with a tremor in his voice.
"It's the 12th of April, 2015," John moved towards his friend, kneeling in front of his chair with fear and relief and concern in his eyes. He must be going mad.
"No, no, no, no," Sherlock whispered under his breath, "the Doctor must have miscalculated"
Jumping past John, Sherlock tore from the room, flying down the stairs and out the door.
"DOCTOR!" He shouted, over and over, it wasn't until he'd almost been run over six times he noticed he had been shouting from the middle of the road. He collapsed on the stairs of the flat. Finding the Doctor was not something commonly done. It required waiting for years, attempting to contact him with future technology, perhaps encountering aliens in daily life, hoping to hear that rare whir of his TARDIS. This wasn't something he could undo by travelling back in time, this was something that could only be fixed with time. Straight, achingly linear, time.
John lowered himself next to his best friend, his dead best friend, on the steps. Sherlock looked up to meet his eyes, and found them glistening with tears.
"You owe me an explanation," John managed, attempting to muster up some of that rampant anger at his friend's abandonment that had controlled him for so long, but finding nothing but concern and relief.
"Well you see, John, there's this man with a box…"