3. Sherlock and John
"Why are you giving me a skull?" The boy couldn't think why the man was giving him it, or what it would be useful for. There was no point knowing about human anatomy when he couldn't use his knowledge on something important, so there was no point studying it. Other than that, there's really no point in a skull at all. Unless you're alive, of course.
"This skull is more important than anything in the world. In your world, I mean." The man corrected himself. He then studied the boy. And he understood him. The boy, he was so lonely, a little like him. The only one of his kind. So, so, lonely...
"Sherlock, listen to me. What I'm about to tell you is very important. Because this skull, this skull is..."
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock almost jumped in surprise. He looked up to see John staring down at him, worry showing on his face. "What?" he asked bluntly.
John sighed. "Look, you don't have to talk to me. I just wanted to make sure that you were..." Whatever John was going to say, he stopped abruptly, not taking his eyes of Sherlock.
Sherlock looked up, obviously annoyed. "What?" he said, even more impatiently.
"Ermm... I ...ermm ..." John looked away. "T-to make sure that you were alright. I wanted to make sure you were alright. But you are, so..." He turned around, and started to walk away quickly. Sherlock caught his arm before it was out of reach. He instantly regretted it.
Sherlock opened him mouth to speak, but what to say? "Thank you, John." There, that was a good reply. It would have been so easy for a normal person to say that and not even have to think about it, but socializing wasn't his thing. Being a highly-functioning sociopath and living with the highly-emotional John Watson wasn't the easiest thing to do.
John said nothing in reply, but nodded. He quickly shook Sherlock's hand off his arm. "Doctor! You said there are more rooms, so I'm going to have a look around-" Before the Doctor could reply John had already vanished through the doors opposite the entrance of the massive orange 'room' he was currently in. Nothing he had seen before looked quite as incredible as this. It was so...alien. Not alien, he corrected himself. It couldn't literally be alien, could it? At this point Sherlock was willing to believe anything he saw. The science of deduction wasn't working. This wasn't possible. None of it was.
"I must say," the doctor interrupted his thoughts. "I can't believe we got through the 'it's bigger on the inside' stage so quickly with you! Well done my friend." The doctor turned to the man sitting on the old dirty seat, and sighed. Sherlock's head was still being held up in his hands and the only person he had actually seen the man do anything for was John. He sat himself next to Sherlock.
"Why? I don't care how anymore." At that Sherlock grabbed the man's bow tie and pulled the man up to his giant height. "Why did you give me that skull? I have lived my whole life without knowing about it. I have lived my whole life with that skull, sat there, in my room, and I had completely forgotten what you had said. And all because," Sherlock hissed through his teeth," I wasn't going to keep the mad man with the box in my hard drive."
"You were so lonely," was all the man had to say. Sherlock had had enough, and he dropped the Doctor, who staggered but managed to stay on his feet. He didn't know what to say. Sherlock just stood there, shaking. And nobody could do anything to settle him. Until John returned. By that time, the Doctor was apparently fixing the 'machine', so John had time alone with Sherlock to calm him down. When the Doctor finally returned, the couple were sat together on the seat. John's head rested on Sherlock's arm (he couldn't quite reach his shoulder). Sherlock's hand rested John's shoulder. Neither of them were talking, but you could tell that they were both calmer than ever.
"Aww, I don't want to spoil the moment between you two, but there's something I need to show you both outside." The Doctor grinned at John, who instantly went red in the face and moved away from Sherlock.
Sherlock seemed uninterested. "We've been in here for 22 minutes," John stated. "I doubt anything interesting has happened outside."
"Nonsense. A great deal can happen in 22 minutes. For example, in twenty-two minutes Anderson could lower the IQ of the entire world." Sherlock stood up. "We had better go and check this out, sidekick."
"Sidekick? Why can't I be the-"
"No. That hasn't happened" The Doctor said simply. "Take a look at this..." He casually strolled to the doors, and Sherlock and John followed obediently. The doors were flung open.
Just for those next precious couple of minutes, Sherlock was glad that the Doctor had landed at his door. "Wow..."
The image that lay before their eyes was incredible. Millions of blindingly bright stars covered the sky. Clouds of pink, red and blue fog slowly wrapped each and every one of the planets, each of which was also a different colour. It was beautiful. Or at least it was until you decided to look down. Sherlock didn't seem fazed by the idea that they were floating around in space. John, however, felt a sudden rush of nausea, and had to steady himself against the door. When he finally felt able to look up again, the Doctor had disappeared, probably to fetch Clara from her room. Sherlock had his back to John, and was holding onto the door, or rather, swinging on it, so he could hang out right above the nothingness below him. "Oh my god Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?" John shouted at him. "What if you fall?" He was beginning to feel even more sick than before.
"Then I'll die." Sherlock smiled. "But look on the bright side, you won't have to live with me anymore!"
"You idiot! You complete idiot!" John screamed. "I thought you didn't care about the solar system and all that!"
"That doesn't mean I can't appreciate it."
"Right, that's it!" John grabbed Sherlock around his waist, and tried to pull him back inside. Sherlock froze for a moment, and then sighed as he relaxed himself.
"Really John, I didn't realize you cared so much," Sherlock chuckled. He continued to hang outside the box, with Johns arms still around him.
"I don't know what I'd do without you!" John was clinging on for dear life, and Sherlock seemed to be enjoying it. "Sherlock, you are my friend. My only friend. If you left me...why the hell are you still laughing?"
"Because that's not what I meant," he smiled. John could feel Sherlock's body shaking in his arms.
"W-what?"
"You should probably check where your hand is, John."
"I don't know what you mea-" Oh my god. Oh my god, am I...
John's hand flew away from Sherlock, and he staggered back, shocked. Sherlock pulled himself back into the police box, shutting the doors behind him. He turned to John, and that strange sideways smile of his spread across his face. "Don't worry. Nobody has ever touched my crotch before, and you can't really do it wrong the first time, now can you?" John was still in the same position, staring at the floor in utter disbelief. Sherlock's smile faded. "John, look at me". No reply. "John!" Sherlock grabbed John's warm face in his hands and pulled it upwards so they were facing one another. His eyes darted to every part of John's face as he scanned him. The man's heart was racing wildly, and his cheeks were burning. And when his blue, teary eyes made contact with Sherlock's, his pupils dilated. Of course. How did I not see this before? "John-"
"Don't try to read me!" John pushed Sherlock away staggered back, before collapsing. Sherlock caught him just in time and held him to his chest. Surprisingly this was all coming to Sherlock rather naturally, despite past attempts at comforting people.
John.
"Don't do that to me again." Tears were now streaming down John's face. "Don't hate me, Sherlock. I'm sorry. Don't hate me."
John. Please. I'm sorry. "It's alright John. It's alright. I don't hate you. We're..." Friends? Sherlock wasn't sure. Maybe they were more than that now. "Are we friends?"
John stared at him in disbelief. "Don't say that Sherlock! Don't leave me. Please!" He smashed his hands into Sherlock's chest with surprising strength, sending Sherlock stumbling backwards. Quickly John ran out of the room.
"John, that's not what I...meant..."
What Sherlock could not get his head around was that he should have been worrying about being a fictional character on a time traveling space ship disguised as a police box, with an alien and a girl from another world. But no. He was worried about John.
What's wrong with me?
