Chapter 1: The Doctor's Companion
The Doctor sighed; the time between companions was always the worst. He pushed himself away from the TARDIS door and carefully walked toward the controls in the center of the room. He gingerly touched each button on the hexagonal contraption, ghosting over the controls he knew so well. His hand stopped at the top of the lever that sent the TARDIS into motion. The Doctor's fingers curled loosely around the top automatically, ready to move everything forward, or would it be back? He never could tell. After allowing his fingers to curl more tightly around the lever, he pulled it towards himself. Reveling in the whirs of the TARDIS, the Doctor relaxed in the plush leather chair nearby. He smiled to himself, somehow knowing the TARDIS was bringing him to the companion he yearned for. He wondered what this one would be like.
Sherlock gazed at the ceiling as he lounged in his hiding place, his legs draped carelessly over the arm of his plush couch. He missed John. John hated it when Sherlock took up the entire couch. He hated having to hide from John, hated that John thought he was dead. Worst of all, Sherlock was bored and he didn't have John's gun. He turned to glare at the wall, it would look so much better with bullets in it.
He looked away and brought his hands together, as if in prayer, letting the tip of his middle finger press lightly against the bottom of his chin. Sherlock's icy blue eyes narrowed. He could feel something coming, something life changing, but he didn't know what. He hated not knowing. A harsh breath escaped as he flared his nostrils. The sound seemed to echo in the stillness of the room.
His eyes slid closed and he heard a faint whirring noise. It was a noise he had heard before, but he had never been able to figure out where it came from. Today was the day that would change. Today Sherlock would solve the mystery of the mystical whir. With a deep breath Sherlock stilled and listened closely to the whirring. It was close, very close. He quickly opened his eyes as he realized just how close the whirs were.
The TARDIS quieted as it settled into its landing. The Doctor poked his head out; his brown eyes eagerly searched the area.
"London!" The Doctor's eyes danced as he marveled at the familiar landscape of England and the familiar cityscape of London. His lips spread into an excited smile. Prancing out of the TARDIS, the Doctor looked around to see just were in London he had landed.
Behind the TARDIS was an old run down brick building, it looked abandoned. The Doctor turned away from the TARDIS and made his way to a more populated and pristine part of London, occasionally glancing back at the ugly building. Soon though, whatever thoughts The Doctor had of the brick building were forgotten as he lost himself in the wonders of the city.
Meanwhile, on the top floor of the brick building behind the TARDIS, Sherlock watched in fascination as a mysterious man disappeared into the bustling streets. Somehow the man had come from where Sherlock had determined the whirs had come from. Had that man been the cause of the sound? Sherlock shook his head. That was absurd.
The man slumped ever so slightly as if he were sad about something. He would occasionally glace behind himself in an unsure manner at the lower level of the building that Sherlock was in. It was as if the man was hesitant to leave something in such a poorly kept neighborhood. He deduced the hesitant glaces to be aimed in the direction that the whirring noises had come from. Sherlock observed the man to be around six feet tall, he walked as if he was important to the world around him. His brown hair was well groomed and slightly fluffy groomed to form an upward swoop at the front. His eyes were dark most likely brown in color, a mix of emotions swirled within them. Sherlock knew that the man obviously took care of himself as he not only wore a full blue suit but he had a tan trench coat on over it as if to protect the suit and keep it clean. He quieted his calculating mind.
Sherlock quickly leaped away from the window, a smirk graced his lips as he thought of adventure. Grabbing his coat and scarf he called to the nothingness, "John!"
His excitement dwindled slightly as his baritone cracked. There was no John Watson in this building. No blogger to tell the world about the adventure that Sherlock was sure to come after today. No side kick to make Sherlock feel like the genius he knew he was. He tugged the end of his scarf harshly and scowled.
Adventure was needed for Sherlock, he knew that if he couldn't distract his mind he would reveal he was alive to John. It was too soon for Sherlock to do that. Moriarty's men were still looking for him, they would be paying close attention to 221B Baker Street and John Watson. If Sherlock Holmes were to reappear at either, Moriarty would be the first to know.
Finding himself on the ground floor, he grabbed the knob that led to the outside world, adventure, and crime. His heart fluttered in excitement and the promise of freedom. With one fluid motion Sherlock swung the door open and breathed in the London air. He had been inside hiding for so long that even the city air seemed fresh and welcoming. He stepped over the threshold, careful to close the door, and turned to look at the window to his hideout. His gaze was caught, however, by a strangely located deep blue 1960's style police box.
Sherlock knew that the box hadn't been there an hour ago, he dared to believe that it had been years since a box like that had even been seen in London. He cautiously glanced around the street observing everything and everyone. Finding that Moriarty's men were no where in the area Sherlock gracefully floated to the strange blue box. His long spider like legs stilled, stopping him a mere foot away from the entrance of the box. Sherlock carefully brushed his fingers over the wood bringing them to his face he examined his fingers for any residue. He gently rubbed them together and his face sunk into an expression of pure boredom.
"It's just wood," he scowled. Huffing, he circled the box looking for anything interesting, and observing no such thing. Sherlock kicked his foot and immediately he noticed the lack of debris in the area.
His eyes widened as he noticed a ring of debris around the box spreading out five feet in every direction except the back of the box. He turned, walked the ring of debris and looked behind the box to find that there were leaves and trash on the wall of the brick building he currently called home. It seemed as if a wind had come from underneath the box and pushed the debris away from it. Sherlock laid himself on the ground and saw that the box lay flush against the gravel of the street.
He smiled, perhaps there was something more to the box than he could observe from the outside. He returned to the front and tugged at the handle that would take him inside. It was locked. Sherlock felt himself smile widely with the anticipation of what was inside.
The Doctor smiled lightly as he strolled back to the TARDIS. His posture was loose as he realized this was the first time in a very long time he had gone somewhere without something bad happening. Thus far the Doctor had found no aliens with a treacherous plan to destroy anything. All he saw were humans, plain and completely normal humans.
The Doctor stopped mid-step, his eyes widened and darkened dangerously at the sight that lay before him. Some tall man in a dark trench coat was trying to get into his TARDIS. His eyes lightened as he realized that the man's effort was in vain. He watched the man's dark curls bounce and sway as he tried to find an easy way inside the box. After watching the man for a few seconds The Doctor strolled over. The man stilled and straightened himself once the Doctor was about four feet away from him.
As the man righted himself, the time lord realized that they were both around the same height. The stranger turned and the second their eyes met The Doctor felt as if the man knew everything about him. He found the stranger's eyes darted all around The Doctor before they settled back to his eyes. The man's face remained aloof, almost expressionless. His icy blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
The Doctor smiled warmly. "Hello."
He stretched his hand out toward the stranger. The man's eyes drifted to the outstretched hand before casually going to the Doctor's deep brown eyes once again. An unspoken are you serious etched onto the stranger's face and the Doctor let his hand fall back to his side.
"Is this your box?" The man's voice was deep, smooth, and just as calculating as his eyes.
The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck and let a single 'heh' of laughter fall between the two. He looked behind the man toward his TARDIS. The Doctor could tell the man knew the answer before it was spoken. This man could not be his new companion, he was far too calculating.
"Yes, it is. I'm The Doctor," he outstretched his hand once again, hoping the man would take it this time.
The man didn't even look at The Doctor's hand, "Doctor of what? You aren't a medical doctor, that much is quite obvious."
The Doctor wasn't used to the way the man seemed to know without a doubt that he wasn't a doctor in the way people usually assumed. "Well no, I'm not that kind of doctor," he paused feeling the man's unwavering gaze on him. "I'm more, well you see…"
He stumbled over his words, finally settling for the trick that always worked. Stepping past the man he grabbed the key to the TARDIS from inside his suit pocket and opened the wooden door. The Doctor stepped inside and left the door open. If this man was the companion the TARDIS wanted him to have, it would be easier to simply accept the man.
"I'm Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective," the man said as he stepped inside. Sherlock knew it was the polite thing to do considering he was about to go inside the strange doctor's even more bizarre box.
Sherlock didn't do the double take that the Doctor had grown used to. Instead Sherlock looked at everything; his eyes darted from one thing to the next taking in each detail.
"It's bigger on the inside!" The Doctor knew, or thought he knew, that was what Sherlock was thinking, and spoke it for him. He found he was wrong as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak.
"Obviously," Sherlock stepped inside, toward the hexagonal contraption he assumed to be a control center. He quickly glanced at the Doctor and back to the contraption. He walked around it occasionally snapping out his magnifying glass and making small noises of interest, curiosity, and discovery.
The Doctor smiled finally feeling that maybe this man could be a good companion. "Where to?" He waltzed toward the controls, assuming Sherlock knew what his question meant.
Sherlock glanced upward, his cool icy eyes locking with the Doctor's deep brown ones. "Last Tuesday morning, three blocks east of here."
The Doctor blinked in shock, this one was sharper than he thought. He brushed away all the questions he had for this intelligent man. For some reason, he felt the need to prove that he could do as the brilliant detective had asked. The Doctor danced around the controls pushing buttons, pulling levers, and glancing at Sherlock to ensure that every move made was seen.
The TARDIS whirred into motion and Sherlock smiled in triumph. He had been correct about the whirs that were outside his hideout this morning. Once everything quieted, Sherlock's eyes flitted to the Doctor. The Doctor smiled, nodded his head, and Sherlock opened the door. He poked his head out. Eyes widened as he stared out at the hospital roof, He quickly pulled his head back inside and closed the door.
He swallowed and his chest puffed slightly as he took in a sharp breath. "Interesting."
The Doctor chuckled and danced around the controls again. Once the TARDIS quieted Sherlock instantly poked his head outside to find that he was back at the old brick building he used as a hide out. He glanced around to find that they hadn't even been gone for half an hour.
"So," the Doctor looked at Sherlock as he once again came back into the TARDIS, "Are you ready to go a bit farther than three blocks?"
"Yes," Sherlock breathed as his nerves tingled with excitement and his mind screamed with all the possibilities.
"Brilliant!" the Doctor danced around the controls once again. This time though, he would let the TARDIS take them wherever it wanted to.
After a few minutes The Doctor opened the TARDIS door. Sherlock's eyes widened as he quickly covered his mouth with one hand and grabbed the back of The Doctor's suit jacket with the other attempting to pull The Doctor back into the TARDIS so he could close the door. The Doctor held his ground smirking back at Sherlock. The entire earth lay beneath the TARDIS, stars twinkled in the distance as sunlight spilled to the earth from behind them.
The Doctor chuckled, "There's a force field around the TARDIS that protects us from the harshness of space." His features lightened as he felt Sherlock's grip on the back of his suit loosen.
Sherlock's hand left his mouth and he released the breath he was holding. He felt completely foolish, of course they were fine. Both men would have been sucked into the vacuum of space the second the door opened if there was no force field around the machine. Sherlock stepped over to the open door, not hesitating in the least. He stood on the edge of the TARDIS threshold and gripped the door for support.
"I used to think the solar system was a waste of think space, but I think I'm more open to changing my mind about that." It was lame for Sherlock, but really he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
He knew he would wake up in the darkened room of his hideout soon. He would feel the familiar itch to reveal he was alive to John. For now he would let himself dream. He would allow this completely fictitious adventure unfold its wings and send him to places he had never allowed himself to think, or learn about. He would venture through space and time with this nameless 'doctor'. He would continue to do so even if every fiber of him screamed to wake up and return to the world he knew so well.
Sherlock would leave behind everything just to stop thinking about John for one hour. He would leave it all just to feel the muscles in his brain flexing as he tried to work out some kind of mystery.