"For the love of god, Sherlock, Please just go to sleep!" John said with a yawn as he tiredly slumped into the living room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he did so. It was four in the morning, and this was the fifth time Sherlock has woken John up tonight. First, it was at midnight, about an hour after John had gotten to sleep. He heard some sort of clanking coming from the kitchen, so he assumed Sherlock was just making himself some tea to help get to sleep. Of course, he should have realized that wasn't the case, as Mrs. Hudson was the one who made Sherlock his tea. In fact, John has never seen Sherlock make his own tea in the entire time he has known him, but his tired mind wasn't thinking so logically, so he just went back to sleep. Thirty minutes later, he was awoken again by the sound of glass breaking and a horrible smell. He was about to get out of bed to see what happened, but Sherlock, as if sensing John's consciousness, shouted, "Just dropped a beaker, John, nothing to worry about!" John sighed, knowing that Sherlock always did weird chemical experiments when he was bored, and he did usually clean up after himself, so he just went back to sleep. The third time he woke up was due to Sherlock barging into his room and muttering something about needing...well, something. To be honest John just turned over and put his pillow over his head, and refused to listen to anything Sherlock was saying. An hour after that he woke up to Sherlock stomping around the apartment. That probably wouldn't have woken him up normally, but since he had waken up so many times already, his body was just sort of expecting something to wake him up. John shouted at Sherlock to knock it off, and the stomping stopped soon after with no reply, and john went back to sleep once again. He got to sleep a little longer after that, but this time, it was the last straw. Sherlock began to play his violin. Who plays the violin at four in the morning?! That brings us to now, with John sleepily glaring at his roommate, and Sherlock standing by the window in his robe, continuing to play his violin. He either didn't hear John or, more likely, wasn't listening to him.
John was losing his patience. He was very tired, and he just wanted to be able to sleep until he was ready to wake up. "SHERLOCK!" He shouted over the violin, knowing that there was no way Sherlock could just ignore him, and he was right. Sherlock stopping playing almost instantly and he turned around to face John.
"What?!" he snapped, which caught John off guard. Usually Sherlock was pretty calm, and he wasn't used to being snapped at. John looked Sherlock over. He looked terrible. There were bags under his eyes, he was obviously very tired and still partially in his mind, which was probably why he didn't react to John at first. He appeared to have been biting his fingernails, since some of his fingers were actually bleeding. His usual erect posture was slumped, and worn out, and he looked like he could faint at any moment. It had been about a week since Sherlock had told John about how someone was following him, and it looked like he hadn't eaten or slept since then. John had never seen Sherlock like this, and he was absolutely stunned for a moment. "Well? What is it?!" Sherlock said, sounding impatient.
John was so ready to tell Sherlock off, to tell him to just knock off whatever he was doing and just go to sleep already, but seeing his friend like this really put him off. "Are-are you okay?" he asked. "You look terrible, have you even slept?"
"Sleep is irrelevant, John."
"Have you eaten anything at all? What is going on with you?"
"Food isn't important either, John, I'm fine, I just...I just can't figure this out!" Sherlock threw his violin to the floor and dropped into the closest chair to him. He rubbed his face with his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair, gripped his black locks, and rocked back and forth slightly, muttering so quickly and quietly that John had no idea what he was going on about. John was absolutely stunned. Sherlock was seriously bothered, which John didn't understand. If this person had been following Sherlock around his whole life like Sherlock had said, then why was it just now starting to really get to him? John voiced this question, and Sherlock finally looked up and stopped pulling at his hair. "Because, John, before it would happen once in a while, maybe once a week at the most, but it would go away, it wasn't persistent, but now, now its all the time! Every day, everywhere I go, even here! I can't figure out who it is or where they are, I just, I just know he's out there, following me, watching me, it's driving me crazy, John! It's not even like this person has any sort of malicious intentions or anything, I would know if it was something like that, but it's not, he's just there. WHAT DOES HE WANT?" Sherlock stood up and paced around. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his robe and put one in his mouth, instantly lighting it and inhaling for a good ten seconds. The pack was already almost empty, and John noticed several other empty packs around on the floor. Normally John would have scolded Sherlock over smoking, but at this point, he was just glad that Sherlock wasn't reverting back to drugs.
"Maybe he wants you to find him?" John suggested.
"What? That's ridiculous! Why would he want me to find him? A person who is watching someone else typically doesn't want to be found, John."
John sighed. "Maybe you shouldn't think of the typical in this situation, Sherlock. This person has been following you your whole life, but have never contacted you in any way whatsoever. You are sure that there is no ill intent behind what he is doing, but you don't really know what his actual intention is. The only way to find out is to find him and confront him. And if it's been happening more often, then he might slip up, might make himself more noticeable now that it's happening out all the time. Just pay more attention to the people around you for once."
"I always pay attention to the people around me," Sherlock said matter-of-factly.
"Sure, you pay attention to little details about people. But what about that time I introduced you to a date, then a week later she came over again and you had no idea who she was?"
"Well I don't really care to remember faces of unimportant people." John didn't even have to say anything. He just looked at Sherlock with his eyebrows raised. "Okay, I understand what you're getting at, you don't have to look at me like that." To Sherlock, pretty much everyone was an unimportant person. He wouldn't recognize a face if it saw it every single day. Heck, for the longest time he wouldn't even recognize Molly if she wasn't with a dead person. "Alright. I supposed I'm going to have to start paying attention then. But you're going to have to help me."
The Doctor was pacing the TARDIS, occasionally flipping his sonic screwdriver into the air then catching it. "Why hasn't he found me yet?" he kept muttering to himself. Sherlock was an incredibly smart man, he has found the culprits to the many cases that he has solved, but for some reason he was having trouble finding what was practically under his nose. What was taking him so long? These past few days, The Doctor noticed that Sherlock was looking more tired, worn down, almost. The Doctor was confused by this. He was sure that Sherlock knew that he was following him, and that he's been around for a long time, but he wasn't really doing much of anything to find him. The detective passed by the TARDIS practically every day and didn't even give it a second glance. At one point, The Doctor even bumped directly into him. Sherlock just muttered to watch where he was going and continued on his way, not even looking at him. Perhaps he wasn't making himself obvious enough. Maybe he should just talk to him, introduce himself and explain everything? No. For some reason, The Doctor felt that Sherlock needed to find him. Sherlock was the type that needed a challenge.
The Doctor was becoming a little stir crazy. He hadn't stayed in one place and time for this long in a very long time. He had to do Something to move this along, and quick, because if he didn't, he might just give up. Maybe Sherlock didn't want to find him... Or, he just didn't know that he was supposed to find him. "That's it!" The Doctor exclaimed suddenly, then he ran to find a piece of paper. After scribbling a few words down, he quickly started pushing buttons and pulling levers, running all around the console of the TARDIS in excitement. Within a few moments, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
He grabbed the piece of paper and exited the TARDIS, and ended up in a closet large enough to be a room... It had been a long time since he's been here. If his calculations were correct-and if the TARDIS complied-he was right back to the exact time he first saw Sherlock. Well, not exactly, of course he didn't want to run into himself being there, so it was a little while after his past regeneration left. Quietly, he sneaked out of the closet and made his way to the boy's bed, and there he was, laying on top of the covers, his black hair all tousled and sleeping as soundly as he could. It was strange looking at this child, knowing the man he was to become. He smiled lightly, and set the piece of paper on the night stand next to his bed. "I hope this works..." The Doctor muttered as quietly as possible. Then, before he woke up the boy, he made his way back to his TARDIS, and back to Sherlock's current time.
(Hello! I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update, I do have a job and am pregnant so things can get a little busy! Anyway, I'm glad some of you like my story! Thank you so much for your reviews, I hope to get more parts out soon, and hopefully Sherlock and The Doctor will finally interact :) Thanks again for reading!)
