YAY! So, I'm so glad that this has received such a good response for just having one chapter out. I shall try my hardest to answer your questions...in due time of course, and I hope you will all stick around for the whole thing. :) Again, just a huge thanks to everyone supporting me in your ways, it makes me so very happy. Special thanks to SammyKatz for this lovely prompt. I hope I'm doing your idea justice. :)

Right, I do not own anything from the BBC, Sherlock, Doctor Who, or otherwise. Sadly.

Onto Chapter Two!

Enjoy!

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"You? You're the John Watson of this...world? You hardly fit with the rest of the surroundings of this flat, let alone your...friend, here." Sherlock gestured a hand to the other him, his gaze not shifting from this out of place Watson. Said man chuckled a bit, before shaking his head.

"No, you misunderstand. I'm not Doctor Watson. I'm The Doctor. Just The Doctor," he replied cheerfully.

"The Doctor...? Doctor of 'what', exactly?" Sherlock asked skeptically. He watched as the two men exchanged an amused look.

"I told you he'd react this way. It's best to just say it, and let him sort out the details for himself. Then we can proceed with the more pressing matters at hand," Holmes stated, his eyes moving from the Doctor back to Sherlock.

"Alright then. Sherlock, my name is The Doctor. I'm a Time Lord. You're currently at 221B Baker Street in London...in 1895. It's very important that you speak with, well...you, about the important matter of your friend, Molly Hooper." The Doctor pointed to Holmes, who briefly nodded, before he went back to flexing the leather crop in his hands. Sherlock's eyes widened a bit.

"Molly? What does any of this have to do with Molly?" Sherlock tried not to sound too shocked at the mention of her name. He also tried to ignore the guilty feeling that was quickly settling in his stomach.

"Oh, it has everything to do with her, Sherlock," The Doctor responded. Sherlock opened his mouth, fully prepared to demand an explanation, when the doorway was filled with yet another person's form.

This man was slender, fit with a clean-pressed suit. His face was clean shaven, apart from the well groomed moustache above his lips. The blond hair on his head was combed in a pristine fashion, very similar to how John wore his. John Watson; Sherlock knew in an instant that this man was the army doctor to his other person. He looked around for a moment, eyes finally settling on Sherlock.

"Ah, so you two decided to go through with it anyway," he said, giving a sigh of defeat. Dr. Watson stepped further into the room, nodding in acknowledgment to the obviously confused detective.

"I'm sorry, I did try to tell them not to interfere this way. But he insists on the necessity of it." He motioned to The Doctor, who smiled proudly.

"And he, well...you surely understand, given the um, well, given the circumstance of things, why he agreed." Watson chuckled, before shaking his head. The three men had gone to arguing amongst themselves, Watson admonishing them for their behavior, The Doctor and Holmes both presenting their reasons for doing so. They completely forgot the 21st century man across the room. Sherlock decided to do get up and do what he did best, investigate. He wandered throughout the flat, in search of answers to his growing pile of questions.

He first walked down the hall, heading toward the room that would be his, were he at home. However, it was becoming quite clear to him that he wasn't in his version of 221B. He entered the room, finding that, in place of his king size bed and simple lamp, there was a chaotic mess of papers, files, books, and glass beakers. All were strewn across the long tables placed strategically in the middle of the room. Sherlock immediately saw the advantages to their layout, allowing access to any given angle of the items scattered on the table tops. The detective eyed a newspaper amongst the collected stacks, and he fished it from its pile. Looking at the date was the first of his priorities. Sherlock glanced to the top, his head feeling immediately faint at the printed text.

"October 27, 1895..." he muttered, his voice laced with an obvious air of bewilderment. He looked around the room again, this time noticing a large blue door in the corner. Sherlock walked toward it, reading the white placard that sat embedded in the dark wood.

PULL TO OPEN

Those, ironically, were the words that stuck out to him the most. He decided that the added questions of what a Police Box door was doing in a London flat...in 1895, was too much to handle at the moment. 'Pull to Open,' the instructions read, so Sherlock did.

Nothing. Not even a little budge. Sherlock scowled as he tried again, this time slapping his hand against the door when it refused to give. A strange feeling crept over him, and, as if it were teasing him, the door slowly creaked open. The detective's jaw set into a jutted frown, before he walked into the next room.

It was a mess. Wires streamed down from the ceiling, toggles and switches scattered about a center console. Sherlock paused, realizing that this room was just as out of place with the assumed time period as he was. A brief thought crossed his mind.

'Perhaps it's some sort of holographic technique...' he wondered. No. The building evidence was too much to overlook with a simple parlor trick. Determined to discover what he was doing here, Sherlock set about discovering the large room. He looked over the main grid, trying to decipher the purpose of each button, lever, and crank. As he rounded the circular epicenter, something pulled his attention immediately away from its prior thoughts. There, stuck between the small seam of a random keyboard and a long line of levers, was a photo. It didn't appear very old, despite the slight tearing around one of the edges. Sherlock pulled the small portrait from its place, his eyes widening yet again. Her smile seemed brighter than he'd ever seen it before, eyes shining with effervescent happiness and charm. A furrow set to his brow as a new and dreadfully deep question set to his mind.

Just what had his pathologist got herself mixed up in?

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Well, tralalalala. There's another chapter down. I'm going to try get as much of this story pumped out in the next...oh gosh...2 days...as I can. I'm participating in NANOWRIMO...so I will be mildly absent from my usual fanfic writing for the month of November. Anyway, I promise I will bring you as much of this story as I can in the next 48 hours, so you aren't left hanging too much. A huge thanks to MizJoely for looking over this chapter for me, and thank you to all of you for leaving such wonderful reviews. I hope you continue to do so. Leave me your thoughts, questions, advice, predictions, all of it! Righto, until next time...LATERS!