Chapter 2- Prologue
A buzzing noise rang throughout the flat, then stopped. Then started again. Then stopped again. It did this several more times, and was beginning to grate on John's nerves. He hurled a pillow at his dozing flatmate's head, who started in surprise.
"Sherlock, you're phone is ringing," stated John as calmly as he could.
"An excellent observation John," drawled the detective, settling back on the couch, completely ignoring the phone, which promptly rang out.
"That's the eighth time he's rung," John said through gritted teeth. His patience was wearing thin.
"I am aware of that John."
"Do you think you could answer it? Or at least turn it off so I don't have to listen to it?" Sherlock scoffed.
"And what if Lestrade rings with a case? If my phone is off then he won't be able to contact me and let me know. Really John, do try to think sometimes."
John was about ready to throttle his flatmate, and so got up with the intention of making a cup of tea, to calm himself down.
"Milk," Sherlock said sharply.
"Sorry?"
"In my tea, John. Do I have to spell everything out for you? You really are being exceptionally dense today."
Whatever John was about to say was interrupted by the renewed buzzing coming from the coffee table. John finally snapped.
"Alright, that's it!" he yelled, snatching up the phone and hitting 'answer'.
"Hello? Mycroft, how are you? Yes we're fine. Yeah, he's right here, I'll put him on." He held the phone out towards a slightly mortified-looking Sherlock, glaring at him in an attempt to convey that he would pin Sherlock down and hold the phone to his ear if that's what it took, he was taking this call! Sherlock glared right back, but seemed to get the message and very reluctantly took the phone from John.
"Mycroft," he said curtly, watching John disappear into the kitchen. "No I-, no I've already told you I'm not interested. Now do stop calling, you're irritating John." And with that he hung up.
"What was that all about?" called John from the kitchen, where he was finishing making the tea.
"He wants my help, though I honestly can't see what for."
John walked back into the living room with the two cups of tea. He handed one to Sherlock, then settled back into his chair, warming his hands on the cup.
"Why don't you just see what he wants? It's been weeks since your last case."
"It's hardly a case John."
"Oh?"
"You know that incident three days ago? It was in all the newspapers. They're saying a piece of space junk fell to Earth-"
"Ah."
"Ah?"
"I can see why you don't want to take the case. It's to do this space. Not really your area, is it?" John smirked into his tea. Sherlock glared at him.
"No, John. The reason I don't want to take the case is because I don't want to be caught between a bunch of boring officials trying to push the blame onto each other. I really don't see why Mycroft would need me, he's perfectly capable of dealing with the situation by himself."
"Right."
Silence.
"So not because you have no knowledge of anything space-related."
"No."
Silence.
"You're never going to let go of that whole 'solar system' thing are you?"
"Nope."
Sherlock scowled and John chuckled quietly to himself.
A man rode his bike down a quiet side street in London, dodging a news stand as he rounded the corner, oblivious to the sudden whirring, grating noise that filled the air, or the blue Police Box that faded into existence. The door swung open, and a tall girl with long red hair stepped out, followed by a shy-looking young man. Both were dressed rather inappropriately for the cool London weather. She looked around with a frown, and placed her hands on her hips.
"Doctor!" she yelled.
"...yes, beautiful beaches, lovely weather, sunny sunny-" the man paused as he reached the door. "London?" He took off his sunglasses and stepped out into the street, spinning around to look at everything in a peculiar fashion before walking back into the TARDIS, closing the door, then opening it again, as if expecting the scene to have changed. When it didn't, he walked up to the girl.
"Amy, this isn't Chebae, what have you done?" he asked her suspiciously.
"Me!" she shot back incredulously. "I haven't done anything! You promised us beaches and blue skies. This," she gestured at the grey London sky, "is not my idea of beach weather!"
The Doctor hummed thoughtfully, then grinned and spun around on his heels.
"Well, since we're here, might as well look around." He made to walk off, but Amy stopped him, yanking the large sombrero he was wearing off his head and throwing it inside the TARDIS.
"Hey! Sombreros are cool!" he pouted.
"Not in London, they're not," countered Amy. She had a point, he would stand out quite a bit sporting a sombrero around the streets of London.
"Well, anyway. London! 2011, NO! 12. Yes, definitely 2012."
"Oooo, the future. Anything good happen?"
"No, not really. In spite of all those ridiculous rumours of the world ending, bit of a boring year actually. BUT! I'm sure we'll find something interesting. Or it will find us." He turned and strode purposefully down the street.
"It generally does when he's around," muttered Rory, as he and Amy jogged to catch up.
"Doctor, we've been walking for an hour now! What exactly are we looking for?" grumbled Amy.
"Hm?" The Doctor looked around in surprise, seemingly having forgotten the couple were still with him. "Not looking for anything exactly. Just looking," he replied, before turning and continuing walking. Amy and Rory exchanged a look.
"You mean we've been following you around all this time for no reason?"
"I never said you had to follow me."
"Right then," announced Rory, turning to Amy. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"
"Does it count as a date if we're married?"
"Does it matter?"
"Great," grinned the Doctor. "You two go off and have fun. Maybe some lunch. I'll meet you back at the TARDIS later." And with that he turned and walked away. Rory and Amy watched him disappear around a corner.
"Hungry?"
"Starving!"
The Doctor walked back the way he had come that morning. He'd meant to have a look around. Something was definitely going on around here. He knew it. It was floating in the periphery of his mind; he just couldn't quite grasp it. He sighed, continuing past the news stand and into the street where he'd left the TARDIS. After leaving the couple he'd had a brilliant idea. No Amy! No Amy insulting his fashion choices. He couldn't forget the cruel end his Fez had met at the hands of Amy and River. I should get a new one while I'm here, he thought with a grin. His grin widened at the thought of the many hats, scarves, and other items in the TARDIS just calling for him to wear out. Stetson, he decided. I should wear a Stetson. His grin faded as he reached the place where the TARDIS was. Was being the operative word, as the TARDIS was no longer there. He walked up and down the street a few times, then plucked his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Amy's number. It rang three times before she picked up.
"Amy!" he said, putting on his most cheerful voice. "Listen, about the TARDIS..."