Hello dear readers! I know this is a really stupid thing to do- starting a new story when the old one hasn't completed but I got a huge writer's block, and hence, this! Enjoy!
Chapter 1- And they meet for the first time!
Sherlock was sitting on the couch in the living room, looking supremely bored with his gun in his hand. He had stopped playing the violin some time back, and John, who was sitting right across to him thought of it as somewhat of a relief for the plain reason that Sherlock was playing the violin a little bit too aggressively and the strings would have broken had he not stopped. John's head hurt because of all the noise Sherlock had made with his violin. He was looking at his flatmate hoping that he wouldn't start shooting the wall like he did when he was bored.
"A case! I want a case!" Sherlock muttered to himself angrily, pointing the gun toward the wall.
"Sherlock, no," John said.
"It's not bringing the house down, John," Sherlock said.
"That doesn't mean you are going to shoot the wall for no rhyme or reason," John told him, a bit exasperated with his roommate.
"Why isn't the world in danger? Why isn't anything happening?" Sherlock said, rising from his position and going to the window. No sooner had he said this than there was a whooshing sound which grew louder and louder every second. John and Sherlock stood, absolutely rooted to the spot, looking at the blue police box which had materialized in their living room.
"What just happened?" John asked, looking at Sherlock, who, despite being shocked for a while, had regained his composure and started making deductions about what was happening.
"It's alien technology," he said, looking at John. Before John could ask him why and how he had reached that conclusion, the door opened and a man stepped out of it, in a dark blue shirt with pinstriped suit and…. converse. Sherlock looked at him up and down and started making deductions right away.
"Who are you?" John asked.
"I am the Doctor," he said. "Who are you? What is the date?"
Instead of answering, John asked another question- he couldn't answer the question because he had so many questions of his own running through his head.
"What doctor are you? How did you come to the room in the blue box?" John asked him, the surprise very clear on his face. Before the doctor could answer, however, Sherlock spoke.
"It's definitely a ship- alien technology, John, as I told you. This man- though he looks human, most probably is not a human- he is an alien, but this is his true form. He has two hearts, look at his wrist-two pulses- obviously not because he has some deformity- he is perfectly normal but because he has two hearts. He calls himself the Doctor- but he is sort of everything- look at his hands- they are not the hands of a doctor- they are the hands of a navigator, someone who is very good with buttons and all and since he materialized in our room in that blue box, it definitely means it is his ship- also a time machine. He wears a suit to look professional but wears converse because he has to run a lot, he occasionally wear spectacles even though he doesn't need them- same reason, he spends time making sure he looks how he looks- his hair is gelled and face clean shaved- maybe he applies moisturiser, and he isn't as young as he looks- look at his eyes," Sherlock finished. The Doctor was looking at him with extremely wide eyes and grinned when he had finished.
"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, clapping his hand together. "That was brilliant!"
"I gave the same reaction when you did this to me," John mumbled. "But how can that be possible? Aliens? Time travel? You actually believe in that stuff?"
"John, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth," Sherlock told him. The Doctor turned to them.
"I am the Doctor, and yes, as your friend…(?) pointed out, I am not a human, I am a time lord from the planet Gallifrey. But I am curious- who are you?" he turned to Sherlock, who instead of answering the question, had already gone towards the TARDIS.
"How does this open?" he asked the Doctor, who snapped his finger in anticipation that finally he might be able to surprise this genius.
"How are you going to go inside, it is so small," John said.
"Don't be daft, John. How can this be small? It is obviously dimensionally transcendental. The inside and outside exist in different dimensions," he added, seeing the inquisitive look on John's face. The Doctor, in the meanwhile, was staring at him as if he couldn't believe that the man could know all that much.
"How do you know all that? Who are you?" he finally asked, looking at the genius in front of him.
"Sherlock Holmes," he said.
"It's all very good to joke about it, but really, who are you?" The Doctor asked.
"I told you, I am Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock repeated.
"But how is that possible?" he asked, staring at Sherlock in utmost surprise.
"Why isn't it possible?" Sherlock asked him, for the first time having absolutely no clue why the Doctor was asking him that question. But the Doctor wasn't able to believe that it was the famous character, the fictional detective created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Obviously, nobody could be as brilliant and that was a sound evidence to prove that this man was indeed Sherlock Holmes, however, he was supposed to be fictional, not real.
"Because you are a fictional character," The Doctor finally said. "Created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."
"I am standing right in front of you, in flesh and blood so clearly I am not fictional," Sherlock answered him.
"Well, I need to check this out. You are real- and not in the time Sir Conan Doyle created you in," he said. "Anyway, it's an honour to meet you, Mr. Holmes!"
Sherlock took the proffered hand, waiting to ask the Doctor something.
"Would you like to come with me on a trip?" the Doctor asked him, before he could stop himself. It was kind of a fan boy moment for him. He was grinning widely.
"Only if John can accompany us," Sherlock answered, secretly pleased to have been invited.
"Of course! Honour to meet you too, John Watson," he said, shaking John's hand.
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