A/N: Wow! This series is going a lot better than I thought it would! A huge thanks to everyone who has subscribed: with particular thanks going to Gwilwillith and The Imperator President. This chapter does feature another few retuning characters, and Sherlock has a case on his hands.
"And who's River Song?" Sherlock whispered, anxious to face the person who had spoken. He doubted very much it was the elderly porter who had granted them access to this sanctuary of objects. Someone must have followed them in.
"Don't turn around. You can't turn around or I assure you that what happened to her will happen to you," the voice replied. Watson felt his body stiffen in response: there was something ethereal in the voice which invoked the agonies of Afghanistan before his eyes: the feeling that you were thousands of miles away from everyone you loved. The sheer emotion resonated in the stranger's voice, but Watson was forced to comply rather than help.
"Who's life? Who are you holding against their will?" Watson asked, raising his hands above his head to show he was following the man's orders.
"The life of the most important man in the world. It is important I remain unseen: but I can counsel you. The woman you observe there is River Song. You must find the one who calls himself the Doctor: he crashed in London last night with his friends. Find them and you can gain the answers you seek," the voice whispered.
In the corner of his eye, Watson noticed a vague shape blooming behind him. A man, that much was certain. Revolver cocked at the head of Sherlock. If he could just get a shot away, Watson was sure he could save them.
"I know you want to shoot me John, but I've come a long way to get here. You shouldn't just kill me now. I want to help you," the man replied painfully, taking a step backwards.
Which is roughly the man started writhing in agony, as though an invisible entity was torturing him.
On the spot, Watson and Holmes both turned in unison at the stranger who had spoken to them. In the space of a mere second, the man was lying in a pool of his own blood. What appeared to be claw marks had scratched his baby blue shirt and torn right through his pectorals. His short black hair was well cropped, although it did look as though it was greying. The man had a smile of a movie star: even in death.
"I guess you saw huh? I didn't think they'd know I was one of them, but then again I didn't figure I could live as long as I have," the man whispered, fighting the blood which gurgled in his mouth.
Instincts kicking into overdrive, Watson knelt to help the man by applying pressure to the wounds. CPR would be ineffective: Watson knew that much. Sherlock stared helplessly, a troubled look on his face. He had encountered the dying man before somewhere… if only he could remember when.
"Sherlock… Holmes… I never… thought… I'd see… you again," the man grinned, his electric blue eyes beginning to glaze over as death advanced like a leopard. "He was… O'Connell… a fine man… 51SDTA… dream and you'll find the answers…" the man's voice was shuddering.
"How the hell do you know my name? I know we've met before but I can't place you!" Sherlock yelled helplessly, urging John to try and save the man.
"It's… no use… I'm genuinely dying this time. You know… my name," the man wheezed. Trembling, he reached forward with his right hand: drawing attention to the leather contraption he wore. "The 21st… century… is when… everything changes… and you've gotta…" the man coughed, sending a flurry of blood towards Watson's face. He seemed to lose all strength: his shoulders hunched onto the floor and he was still. With his final breath, the man whispered "be ready" and was still.
The two detectives stared at each other, then at the man who lay dead on the floor. Following his instincts, Sherlock removed the leather device from the man's wrists and motioned for Watson to follow his lead out of the exhibition.
Neither of them spoke as they walked solemnly down the exhibitions and emerged into a gentle downpour of rain. Sherlock hailed for a taxi, then sat down on the curb: his fingers absently playing with the strap of the device.
"Where do you want to go now?" Watson breathed. The fact he was helpless in saving the man haunted him greatly.
"Home. There's nothing else we can do for River Song or that man. I know him from somewhere, but can't put a finger on it. I need to work out what this device is," he mumbled: more to himself than to his best friend.
"And what can I do? Make tea? Be on hand in case you need my help?"
"No John. I want you to find the man called the Doctor,"
Ten hours ago
The TARDIS, despite being able to surface in any dimension known, didn't like being underwater at all.
At the first hint of crashing into the Thames, the doors jarred open slightly and allowed the polluted water to gather inside the console room.
"Doctor, can't you do something! Get us out of here," Amy yelled, her military boots already covered in the river water. A fish swam around happily between her legs, as if attempting to colonise the console for itself.
"I can't Amy. The TARDIS is drowning. She can't lock onto the signal of the Time Vortex to pull us out of here. Even if we swim out there's nothing we can do,"
"Couldn't you have crash landed on a shallower bit of river that wasn't intent on drowning us?" Rory asked, fighting towards the doors to prevent more damage being done.
The Doctor whirled around angrily in response to this, his hair flicking back against his head as water continued to climb up his body.
"Sorry Rory, but I couldn't control where I was going. Perhaps you can pilot her next time we're flung from the skies by a temporal earthquake!" Rory stared dumbfounded at his friend, then at his shocked wife. "Okay, that was a bit harsh, but my TARDIS is drowning!"
"Make her un-drown then. Can't she jump?" Amy yelled, troubled by the water which was rising up her body. By now, the water had gathered up their torsos. The majority of the console itself was already underwater, which didn't help their situation.
"Course she can't jump. It's a TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space!" the Doctor pleaded. Hands shivering, he attempted to pull some levers. And then his very words caused him to curse his stupidity. He pressed a few buttons and pulled heavily on the nearest lever.
Like a spring, the TARDIS forced itself out of the water and hurtled onto the bank side. In the London fog, the double doors opened and a secondary river seemed to form as the water from the console room poured out.
Shivering, the three time travellers emerged into the crisp air of the London night and smiled.
"I switched to manual and flew us out of there," the Doctor said, sneezing into his tweed jacket.
"Why didn't you think of that in the first place you numpty?" Amy slapped his arm, but the smile on her face revealed her gratitude.
"I panicked. We all do. Judging by the air I'd say we're a fortnight late," he replied. Neither Amy nor Rory wanted to know how he knew that. They kissed each other passionately for a second, relieved to be alive. Only on the Doctor's mildly embarrassed cough did they separate.
"Time and a place Ponds. Right now we need to find River Song!" he grinned from ear to ear, and then his smile dropped as he observed the blaze of light which was falling from the night.
"What the hell is that thing?" Rory gulped. Before he met the Doctor, he would have naively assumed it was just a harmless space rock. Now he'd met the Doctor, he knew that harmless and space couldn't go together. It was like combining the words "friendly" and "serial killer".
"Trouble. Right then Ponds: we need to get off the streets! We're going undercover!"
221b Baker Street
The monotony in the flat was broken as Sherlock reached a text. The man himself was too intrigued to answer at first: the device handed by the dead man proved more interesting. Watson ended up abandoning the sofa for the mobile phone in Sherlock's coat pocket.
We need you at Scotland Yard. Five killings in the past day. Never seen anything like it. Lestrade.
The doctor placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, nodding solemnly.
"Sherlock, you won't get any answers by looking. Maybe if we find out what's bothering Lestrade we can get more clues,"
Sherlock cracked a smile: the first one he had cracked in days.
"You're right dear friend. The chase is on!"
Two blocks away
Valentina Rossi departed elegantly from her boyfriend's house carrying the device she had been instructed to steal.
Normally she wouldn't have betrayed her boyfriend like that. But her job working in MI6 came first. And love was a notion she could find anywhere: global security, on the other hand, wasn't.
Wishing to avoid the gaze of unwanted eyes, she chose to walk down the alley where she knew her car was waiting. Her footsteps echoed off the high walls and bounced off the sea of bin bags which had been carelessly abandoned by the owners. Cats prowled like lions in the maze around them, but she couldn't show any affection.
It was a shame that Greg had put up a fight. She always hated killing on a cold stomach.
Lost in her thoughts, she disregarded the shapes which were forming in the darkness. The hairs on the back of her neck stiffened as she moved however: even her brunette ringlets seemed to freeze.
As she turned, she saw it glide out of the darkness towards her. Nothing like she had ever seen: a creature encased in metal. As she screamed, the creature screamed a word she couldn't understand. Heaven bloomed from the creature's head like a pair of headlamps.
Then the world became no more.
