So, here's another chapter. I just want you all to know, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. Also, I have no beta, so if you see something that doesn't make sense or I've misspelled something, do let me know. Anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own neither Doctor Who or Sherlock.
Chapter Two:
Aproximately Thirty-Seven Years Ago:
"Honey? Was that the door?" Mrs Watson called, setting a pan on the stove.
"Yes, dear. I'll get it." Mr Watson called back, walking towards the door as it rang more insistently. "Yes, I'm coming. Keep your knickers on." He pulled the door open. "Hello, I'm-"
"Help. Please, t- take him. Keep him safe." The woman gasped, holding out a bundle of cloth. "Help. Please. J- just take him. Please."
Mr Watson accepted the bundle, holding it close to his chest. "Are- are you alright? Do you, um, need me to call you ambulance? Come inside, please. I'm- I'm a doctor, I can help."
The woman smiled briefly. "No, but… please. Keep him safe."
"Is there anything I can do? For you?"
The woman paused and then reached into her pocket and pulled out an ordinary silver fob watch. She handed it to Mr Watson, and turned away. "Keep that with him, but don't let him open it. And please, keep him safe."
Mr Watson looked up, halfway through another in an endless line of questions, only to have it die as he stared out his front yard. The woman was gone. He looked down at the bundle in his arms, peeling back the lip to find an infant, maybe one or two years old. A little boy, still sleeping.
"Honey? Who is it?" Mrs Watson asked, walking towards the door.
Mr Watson turned around, still slightly flabbergasted by the way things had happened so suddenly. "I think we just adopted a baby."
John Watson, or rather, the Doctor, stumbled back, still reeling at the information being unlocked within his mind. Memories, so very many memories, unleashed themselves upon him, stabbing him with sorrow and loss. But then other memories rose, forming a shield against all the pain. He let out a gasp as the last of his memories, the ones from directly before he regenerated, slid into place. The Silence had been plotting something, something big. He and River had been on the verge of discovering exactly what that was when… disaster. The details were still fuzzy, but he was sure that he got hit with some sort… something. And then River held back the rampaging thingywhatsits while he regenerated and then… well, he couldn't really see anything after that, but he could have sworn someone yelled something in some sort of gobbledygook and then he was being carried and then he must have fallen asleep because his memories beyond that are just of growing up. Mr and Mrs Watson, and then Harry. His first crush, his first kiss, his first girlfriend, so many firsts. And then there was Afghanistan. Sun and sand and blood, screams and yells and gunfire, pain ripping through his shoulder. Back to England, crippled, already missing the thrum of adrenaline through his veins. Sherlock, strange and wonderful and so very different, fighting a battle of his own, a battle against the boredom of everyday life.
"Doctor?" Amy whispered, shuffling over to him.
"Stay away." The Doctor croaked, leaning against the wall for support.
"But Doctor, I-"
"Stay away from me!"
"Out." Sherlock ordered. "Get out, both of you."
"But we're-" Amy began, looking aghast at the demand.
"Out." Sherlock repeated, and with a violent shove he pushed Amy and Rory out the door. Amy beat on the locked door with desperation, but Sherlock ignored her as he pushed John's armchair up against the door. Turning around, Sherlock observed John/the Doctor. "John?"
No response.
"Doctor?"
Still no response.
Sherlock frowned. Folding his arms across his chest, he slumped down into the armchair not currently pressed against the door and waited. This lasted for five minutes, then Sherlock let out a sigh and pulled himself to his feet. "Look, how long is this going to take? Because right now, I'm bored."
The Doctor let out a broken laugh, glancing up at his… at Sherlock. "I'm sorry if my little identity crisis disinterests you."
"What identity crisis? You're John, and apparently you're this Doctor. Doctor John Watson."
"I also happen to be a Time Lord, despite the fact I've spent the last thirty-seven years of my life believing I'm human. Believing that I was just an ordinary, everyday human being."
Sherlock shrugged. "Isn't this better, then? Being a Time Lord rather than a human sounds much more interesting, Doctor John."
"It's just the Doctor."
"No. You're Doctor John. That's how I've known you, and that's how you'll stay."
Doctor John smiled. But then something occurred to him. "Wait… How do you know about Time Lords? You knew about my watch just by licking it."
Sherlock grinned, dropping into a crouch. "What do you think, Doctor John?"
Doctor John's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding."
Sherlock tilted his head, still smiling. "I'll give you two guesses. It's obvious really."
Doctor John frowned, crawling closer. "This would be easier if I had my screwdriver." He muttered, his nose an inch from Sherlock's. A smirk scrawled its way across his face has an idea burst forth and he acted before he could fully think it over.
Sherlock barely had time to let out a curious (startled) "Hmm?" before Doctor John's lips were crushed against his own. His eyes bugged out, registering that (Doctor) John 'I'm-not-gay' Watson was kissing him.
Doctor John pulled back, a thoughtful expression playing across his face before it was replaced by a grin. "Ah, Anthromechanocyte."
"And you got all of that just from a kiss. I'm impressed."
Doctor John just shrugged. "So, what's an Anthromechanocyte doing on earth? Particularly in the 21st century."
"My people were experimenting with time travel. Mycroft and I were the head scientists, and we volunteered to be the test subjects. But… it didn't work quite as we planned. It seems we could only go one way. We ended up here. Mycroft took a liking to your government and managed to gather together enough documents for us to pass as two ordinary brothers. It's laughable to think he now runs the government."
"Aliens in Downing Street. To think that was once a bad thing."
"Yes, I heard about that. Was that you who chased them all away?"
"Uh, sort of. It wasn't me, me, it was one of the other me's. I mean-"
"I'm familiar with the Time Lord lifecycle, Doctor John."
"Oh, okay. So, is Sherlock your real name?"
"No but I prefer it. You would too if your birth name was Kappa-Beta-Twenty-Two-Twenty- Het."
"It isn't that bad. A bit long, maybe, but not that bad." John sat back. "Well, this certainly explains why you barely ever eat or sleep. But how did you power your other half?"
"Mycroft, for lack of a better word, plundered a few alien research labs in order to salvage any sort of technology he could find."
"Is he your double?"
"Yes."
Doctor John was silent for a moment, running his fingers through the veritable ocean of memories that now resided inside his mind. "So, what now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I have to find my TARDIS and figure out what's going on with the Silence. Are you going to come with me?"
"Do you want me to?"
Doctor John smiled. "Of course. You showed me your battleground, I might as well show you mine."
"What about the other two? The girl and boy?"
Doctor John bit his lip. "Well, they did come all the way here to find me, even if they were looking in slightly the wrong place."
