A/N: And there's another chapter down! Here comes chapter three. This time, a certain alien will be thrown into the mix. As always, I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Once again, I own nothing.

Chapter 3 – And Then There Were Five

The Doctor hummed to himself as he danced around the Tardis's console, flipping switches and pressing buttons. He had just dropped off the Ponds back home again and was thinking up a place to go next.

Suddenly, the Tardis started to shake and groan. "No, no, no!" the Doctor yelled, "Don't be like this!"

Flames erupted from one of the control panels and the Doctor ran around, flipping more switches than ever, trying to get the Tardis to land.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the tube in the center started to move up and down. Once the Tardis landed, he opened the doors to see where he was. "Well, itlooks like Earth," he said, stepping out of the Tardis and looked around.

The Tardis door banged shut and it started to take off. "Not again!" he shouted, pushing frantically on the doors. They didn't budge. "No!" he yelled as the last sign of his ship vanished. He took a deep breath, composing himself. " happened before when I became a lodger. But it doesn't make sense! What could've caused the Tardis to take off like that?"

Just then, four figures ran into the clearing. "What's going on!" yelled one of them with an American accent, pointing a gun at him, "What was that noise?!"

The Doctor couldn't very well tell him that it was his teleporting time ship, so all he said was, "I don't like guns."

"People who are at gunpoint usually don't tend to like them. What are you? A demon?!"

"Whoa, Dean," said another American, "Slow down, he might just be some normal guy. Let's go out into the light so we can all see each other before making judgments."

The five people left the clearing and walked over to a street lamp, the Doctor still at gunpoint.

Once they were under the light, the Doctor looked around. There was a short man with light brown hair and a weather-beaten brown jacket holding a gun. He guessed this was probably 'Dean.' Next to him was a slightly younger, taller man with longer brown hair. Both of them wore plaid shirts opened over darker T-shirts. On his other side was another man with a long black coat, dark blue scarf, and curly black hair. Directly across from the Doctor was a younger looking girl with black yoga pants and a black tank top with a short sleeved blue button up shirt opened over it. She also had long blond hair tied up in a ponytail.

"Guys, calm down," she said in an effort to ease the tension.

"Indeed, jumping to conclusions rarely ends well," said the man in the coat.

He and the girl spoke with British accents, although hers was less pronounced. "Excuse me," the Doctor began, "But when and where am I?"

"You don't know?" asked Dean incredulously.

"If he did know, he wouldn't be asking, Dean," said the girl, "You're in Oregon, America, 2013."

"Thanks. I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is the Doctor."

"'The Doctor?' Doctor who?" asked Dean.

"Just the Doctor. And who are you all?"

"I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam," said Dean, motioning towards the tall man with the brow hair.

"Sherlock Holmes," said the man in the coat.

The Doctor gasped. "Really? That's fantastic! It's an honor meeting you!" he said, shaking Sherlock's hand enthusiastically.

"I'm Aliea Brook," said the girl, shaking his hand.

"Are you all friends?" asked the Doctor.

"No," said Aliea, "We actually all met by chance. The Winchesters helped me out of a bad situation and we ran into Sherlock on the way to find a diner. We're going in to eat right now actually and you look more than a bit lost if you don't mind me saying so. Care to join us?"

"I will if it's not too much trouble."

The group turned and headed towards the diner. They were informed that it was a half hour wait to be seated, so they sat on the benches outside. Sherlock took this opportunity to pay another visit to his mind palace.

This Doctor is strange, he thought. There's something about him that doesn't add up and I don't believe he's had any medical training whatsoever. He acts like a five year old and dresses ridiculously, with the braces and that bow tie. And yet his eyes are so much older than the rest of him. It was also bugging Sherlock that he couldn't seem to deduce him.

"Winchester, party of five!" announced a waiter, snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts.

The group was led to a round table with five chairs around it. "I'll be right back to get your drink orders," said the waiter after handing them each a menu.

"So, Doctor, what exactly are you a doctor of?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, you know, this and that," the Doctor said evasively, "And you're a private detective right?"

"Consulting detective," sniffed Sherlock, "The police come to me whenever they're out of their depth, which is always."

"Ah, I see," said the Doctor absentmindedly. He looked around at the rest of the party. He was getting the strangest feeling that one of them had caused his Tardis to malfunction but he wasn't sure who. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the building. Yes, someone in it had definitely caused the problem.

"What's that?" Aliea asked, spotting his screwdriver.

"Nothing," said the Doctor, stuffing it back into his jacket, "Just a torch."

"Okay, sure. But what is it really?"

She's clever, the Doctor thought, between her and Sherlock, I'll have to be careful. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Trust me, I've probably heard stranger things."

Just then, the waiter came back. "Would you like anything to drink?" he asked.

"Beer," said Dean.

"Nothing for me, thanks," said Sam.

"Strawberry lemonade," Aliea said.

"I'll have the same," said the Doctor.

"And for you?" the waiter asked, turning to Sherlock.

"Water," said Sherlock, not even looking up.

"Okay," said the waiter, "I'll be right back with your drinks."

"Right," said Sherlock after the waiter left. "I've been studying you all and it's obvious that all of you have a story to share that could give some indication as to why we've all met in such a strange fashion. Am I wrong?"

No one spoke.

"I thought so," said Sherlock smugly, "As much as I look forward to hearing them, I believe sharing them later is best. For one thing, people have an annoying habit of listening to things they shouldn't, and for another, you eating would distract from the tale telling."

A few of the others nodded.

"Here are your drinks!" said the waiter, appearing with a tray. "May I take your orders for your meals?"

Everyone ordered and a few minutes later when the food arrived, they all had enormous appetites, except Sherlock of course, and within no time at all, their plates were empty.

"Okay," said Sherlock. He had been impatient all through dinner with anticipation at their stories. "Story time. Who wants to go first?"

[End Chapter]