Aliens of London

Chapter 1

"I've worked it out, John. It was the teapot!" called Sherlock from the kitchen.

John looked up from the book he was reading, confused as to what he was referring to. "What?"

"The teapot." Sherlock appeared in the doorway, a bright pink teapot in his hands.

"Where did you get that?" John asked, putting down his book and giving all of his attention to Sherlock.

"I found it in Mrs Hudson's flat," he mumbled vaguely. "But that's hardly important. I've worked out how she got the burn on her hand."

John realised what he was talking about. A few days ago they had received a call from Lestrade about the murder of a local restaurant manager. They'd managed to find out that she'd been poisoned but they were unsure of how. Therefore Sherlock had been called in, much to Anderson and Donovan's dismay.

John could tell that Sherlock was dying to tell him what he found out, so he didn't interrupt again.

"Hold this a minute," Sherlock asked, holding out the teapot for John to hold.

John took it automatically but cursed as it burnt his hands. "What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to burn me?"

Sherlock took it from him before he could drop it and placed it on the table. "That was my intention."

He took John's hand in his, examining the red marks that had been created by the scalding teapot. "It's just as I thought. This was how the victim got the burn marks on her hands. It wasn't a burn from working at the restaurant like Lestrade originally thought."

"I don't understand how the burn is important."

Sherlock gave him a look which clearly meant he thought John was being dim-witted, something that John had become increasingly used to. He let go of John's hand and started pacing as he explained. "There was a teapot in the kitchen where she was murdered." He stuck his arm out to the left before placing the same hand over his eyes, visualising the room. "We already know that the murderer was in the house and watched her die. The murderer, who she obviously knew, must have already made the tea by the time she came in. The victim walked in from the living room so the handle of the teapot was facing away from her, meaning she must have been distracted by whoever else was in the room with her when reaching for it. That was why she burnt herself. She must have been startled by who it was if she distracted so much that she burnt herself, meaning it must have been someone she hasn't seen in a while. With the limited amount of people she seemed to know this leaves us with two options, a lot less then my previous seven. It was either her ex boyfriend or her older sister. However, only one had the key to her flat. Her ex boyfriend. He slips into the flat and puts the arsenic into the teapot before she comes home. She's dead within a matter of hours. All he has to do is sit back and watch. Once she was dead he probably attempted to wash out any traces of poison from the teapot. There should however be traces still left."

"But what's his motive?"

"Jealousy. He knew she was sleeping with the head chef."

"She was sleeping with the head chef?"

"Yes, John." He frowned at him. "I thought you already knew that."

Sherlock leant down in front of John and grabbed his hand again. "We need to leave the burn for a few hours, just so I can be sure. I'll call Lestrade in the morning." Sherlock was still inspecting John's hands when Mrs Hudson came bustling into the room.

She looked between the two of them, before letting out a giggle. "Oh! I'm so sorry boys. I should have knocked."

John realised what it must have looked like. "No! Mrs Hudson, he was just-"

"It's quite alright. I was just stopping by to drop off your post."

She gave them a knowing look before placing the letters on the table and closing the door behind her.

John sighed, moving his hand away from Sherlocks. "Somehow we always manage to create opportunities for people to talk about us. She'll be next door gossiping about how she saw us holding hands for the rest of the day."

Sherlock shrugged offhandedly and picked up his violin. "Mrs Hudson will take any opportunity to gossip."

John nodded in agreement, before walking over to the kitchen. "I'm making some tea, do you want some?"

"Yes, please."

As John opened up the fridge to get some milk he sighed in annoyance as he found the fridge empty. "Ah, you might have to wait." He looked over at Sherlock. "I don't suppose you fancy going to the shop."

Sherlock suddenly started playing the violin. "I can't. I'm busy."

John frowned at him but quickly realised that if he wanted a cup of tea he'd have to go and get the milk himself.

He grabbed his coat from the chair and pulled it on. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

John had only been gone for five minutes when Sherlock heard a faint rumbling and a roar over the sound of his violin.

If he had been anyone else then he would've ignored it, but he was Sherlock Holmes and he was curious.

He placed the violin back into its stand and walked over to the window. What he saw shocked him, which wasn't something that was easily done.

Flying through the sky, at a speed of well over a hundred miles per hour, was a large metal aeroplane. Except it wasn't an aeroplane because it was too big. Whatever it was was currently hurtling towards the heart of London with smoke billowing from its rear.

Sherlock watched in fascination as the flying aircraft sank lower and lower through the sky until it disappeared from sight.

He had just put on his coat and scarf when he heard the front door open. John started shouting out to Sherlock before he'd reached the door of the flat. "Sherlock! Did you see that?"

Sherlock met him half way down the stairs. "Yes, John I did."

John pressed his hand to his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. "Do you know what it was?"

"I have no idea," he replied and suddenly started to smile. "But we need to find out where it went."

As they moved towards the heart of London it became clearer to Sherlock what had happened. Nobody seemed to know exactly what had happened but he managed to pick up most of the story by listening into the conversations of passer bys. It seemed that an 'alien spaceship' had come crashing into Big Ben before crash landing in the River Thames. Sherlock didn't believe it. Their must have been something more to the story.

It seemed as if half of London had come to a halt, meaning it took them twice as long as it usually would to reach their destination, even with Sherlock's seemingly infinite knowledge of London and its shortcuts.

Unsurprisingly the area around the sight of the crash had been gridlocked, meaning that they only managed to get within a few miles of the area. The army seemed to have taken charge, leading Sherlock to the simple deduction that there was something in the river that they didn't want seen.

John and Sherlock stood at the edge of the barrier along with a large group of people, both deep in thought, when a man tapped Sherlock on the shoulder. Sherlock turned to see a man and a young girl standing behind him.

"Hello," the man greeted with a large grin on his face. "I'm the Doctor."

The Doctor and Rose watched with a mix of surprise and horror as the spaceship smashed into the side of Big Ben.

"Oh, that's just not fair!" Rose exclaimed as the Doctor started laughing.

She grabbed onto his hand as they started running through London. They ran as far as they could until the traffic stilled and they realised they could get no further. Several trucks, along with armed men, blocked their route.

"It's blocked off," the Doctor complained.

Rose looked around, trying to work out where they were. "We're miles from the center. The city must be gridlocked. The whole of London must be closing down."

"Oh, I can't believe I'm here to see this. This is fantastic!" he exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitably.

"Did you know this was gonna happen?" Rose questioned.

"Nope."

"Do you recognise the ship?"

"Nope."

"Do you know where it crashed?"

"Nope."

Rose sighed and frowned. "Oh, I'm so glad I've got you."

"I bet you are. This is what I travel for, Rose, to see history happening right in front of us!"

"Well let's go and see it. Never mind the traffic, we've got the TARDIS."

He shook his head. "Better not. They've already got one spaceship in the middle of London. I don't wanna shove another one on top."

"But yours looks like a big, blue box. No one's gonna notice."

"You'd be surprised, emergency like this. There'll be all sorts of people watching. Trust me, the TARDIS stays where it is."

"So history's happening and we're stuck here."

"Yes, we are!"

As they looked on at the situation happening in front of them, Rose couldn't help but notice two men running towards the barrier. They came to a halt a few feet away from her.

They stood out to her mainly due to fact that they weren't angry or annoyed like the rest of the people around. One of the men stood out the most, mainly due to his pale skin and sharp cheekbones. He had a mop of black, unruly hair and was wearing a long black coat which billowed around him.

The other man was slightly more ordinary looking. He had blonde hair along with a weathered face and was wearing a pale cream jumper underneath a black raincoat.

They were both smiling and pointing in the direction that the spaceship had crashed.

Rose nudged the Doctor and pointed to the two men. He looked at them for a few seconds before breaking out into a large grin. "They seem interested," he stated before walking over to them. Rose had no choice but to follow.

The Doctor tapped on the dark haired mans shoulder."Hello," the Doctor exclaimed as both men turned around. "I'm the Doctor."

It was the blonde man who answered first, although he was slightly confused. "Hello. Do we – uh – know you?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Nope."

"Then why are you talking to us?" the dark haired man asked bluntly.

"Sherlock!" the blonde man scolded. "Don't be rude."

"I'm not being rude, John. I just want to know why they're talking to us."

"Excuse my friend," John apologised.

"It's fine." Rose moved forwards to stand at the Doctors side and held her hand out for John to shake. "I'm Rose and this is the Doctor."

"Oh, I'm a Doctor too." He turned and faced the Doctor. "Where do you work?"

Rose replied for him. "He's not that kind of Doctor."

Whilst John and Rose were making casual conversation, Sherlock was busy trying to deduce the Doctor. It was a lot harder then he had originally thought. The Doctor seemed to be in his early forties. His accent indicated he was from the North and his clothes seemed to indicate that he was trying to keep his youth. He was obviously well travelled, as shown from the scuffs in his shoes and the state of his leather jacket, which he seemed to wear all the time. Asides from that their was little else that he could find out. There was a bulge in his trouser pocket but the shape of it was something Sherlock had never seen before. He frowned down at the man, feeling extremely out of his depth. He didn't like it.

The look that Sherlock gave him was received with a bemused expression by the Doctor. "So," the Doctor started. "Sherlock. That's a strange name."

"You can talk. What kind of a name is 'The Doctor?' It's not even a name, it's a title."

"Ah, that's true. Not really a human name is it. Maybe I should start referring to myself as John Smith again. It does seem to make it a lot easier. What do you think-"

"Human?" Sherlock interrupted.

"What?"

John and Rose were now listening to the conversation. "You said it's not really a 'human' name."

"Yes."

"By stating that your title is not in fact a human 'name' states that you believe in something else. Something…" he paused and laughed as a thought came to him. "You don't really think that was an alien spaceship, do you?"

"Oh I don't think. I know." He smiled at Rose and she smiled back at him.

Sherlock's face screwed up in annoyance. "You're delusional, the pair of you. Their must be another, simpler reason." He looked at the two of them again, this time concentrating on Rose. "What are you? Alien enthusiasts." He didn't wait for them to answer but looked at Rose and wrinkled his nose. "No. Too uneducated for that."

"Oi!" she snapped at him. "Is he always so rude?" she asked.

John nodded. "Yes, unfortunately."

It was at this moment that Sherlock's phone started ringing. He looked at the screen and smiled widely. "Mycroft! John we need to go." He started walking away without bothering to say goodbye.

"Sorry about him," John apologised again. "It was nice meeting you."

"And you," Rose replied, feeling incredibly confused as she watched the two of them walk off.

"Well, they seemed nice," the Doctor stated happily.

"Nice? I'd hardly say that. That John fellow seemed okay." Rose suddenly remembered what had just happened. "How are we going to find out what happened if we can't get past the barriers?"

He shrugged. "I dunno."

"We could do what everyone else does." He looked at Rose, confused. "We could watch it on TV."

And suddenly they were running again.

A/N: So, my first chapters up. I hope you liked it. I also might as well add that I'm looking for a beta for this story, because I really do think my grammar etc is appalling. I don't really know how it works but if you say in your review whether you're interested, then that would be great.

Do review and let me know what you think.