0o0o0o
Sherlock gasped, sitting upright and nearly head-butting the red haired girl who leaned over him. She let out a shriek of surprise, staring at his face in confusion. Sherlock's heart was racing like he'd run a marathon, and the exhilaration made Sherlock want to jump to his feet and do something ridiculous. He coughed, trying to slow down the manic beating in his chest. After a moment, the sensation seemed to fade as he adjusted to it. The woman was still staring at him.
He felt disoriented and he wondered again if he'd been drugged. Looking around him, Sherlock realized he was in a metal room of some sort. Wires clung to the ceiling and made their way upwards to a computer command center. Fires were slowly dying everywhere, like there had been an explosion, and the room was filled with smoke. How did he get here? Glancing at the woman, he automatically began deducing.
Scottish,
Mid twenties,
Recently lost a loved one,
A traveler, adventurous,
Was in an accident of some sort not so long ago, judging by her hair; Car? Plane? Explosion? Obviously an explosion.
He shook his head violently, NO! Shut up! You need to concentrate!
"Doctor?" the fiery woman said, looking rather frightened, "Doctor? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Sherlock blinked. "Sorry, who?" he frowned. His voice sounded different. The metal walls must be messing with sound, making it echo.
The woman's face lost its color. "Oh stars, did you hit your head or something?"
"I- um, no. I don't think so." He got to his feet and wobbled backwards. Falling into a swing of some sort, Sherlock pushed the woman away when she attempted to steady him. Shaking his head, he tried calm the nausea rolling through him. "Can you tell me where I am, miss?" he rubbed his eyes, and then stared at his hands in shock. They weren't his.
The woman gulped, "You don't know who I am?"
"Er-no." he answered distractedly, baffled. He quickly inspected the rest of himself. Sherlock realized entire body was different, almost as if he was another person. What? "Should I know you?" he said, "No of course not, I remember every face I see, and I've never seen yours before. Now where am I? I was at Bakers Street waiting for John, and then…" Sherlock trailed off, unsure. "Was I drugged? Kidnapped? Did someone capture you too?" She was not the kidnapper. That much Sherlock could see.
The woman held her hand up to her mouth in shock. "Doctor, it's me, Amy. Why don't you know me?" She looked afraid and concerned. Obviously she cared deeply about the person she was mistaking Sherlock to be.
Sherlock groaned, holding his head. "I don't know who this 'Doctor' is, but I'm not him."
Amy's heart was beating in her throat as she stared in fear at the Doctor. How could he forget? How could he not know her? The man before her had a calculating expression that she'd never seen the Doctor wear. He was calm and dignified, as if he was above everyone else. Suddenly a look of anger came over her, and Amy stepped up quickly. "No," she said, "You're not."
Her hand stung sharply against Sherlock's cheek. "Ah!" he cried, "What was that for?!"
Amy pushed Sherlock out of the swinging chair the Doctor always sat in when he tinkered. Falling awkwardly backwards, Sherlock felt Amy's bare foot keeping him glued to the ground. "Get out of him!" she shouted, "I don't care how you got inside his head, but you have to leave. Get out!"
"I don't- I don't know what yo-"
"Shut up! Just shut up! I've seen stone angels that send people through time! I've watched men turn into nuclear bombs, and I've been to planets trillions of light years from Earth, do you hear? Do not underestimate me you- you, whatever you are. Get out of his head!"
"I don't know what you mean!" Sherlock shrieked, very embarrassingly. Gah, he was glad John wasn't here. The man would have never let him alone about it. The detective continued on with a bit more restraint. "I don't know why I'm here or why I look all different, please, just stop stepping on me!" Confusion shined in the eyes of a man who never, ever let anyone see his emotions. He couldn't help it. For the first time in his life Sherlock was presented with a situation he didn't know how to deal with.
Amy stared suspiciously at the not-Doctor. He was scared, she noted, and he had seemed rather disoriented when he woke up. What was it the not-Doctor said about Bakers Street? Giving him a last shove with her foot for good measure, she stood back. "You don't know how you got here?"
"Ah, no. I was at my house and then I just sort of…" Sherlock realized he couldn't remember what happened next.
"Sort of what?" Amy questioned
"I dunno." Sherlock murmured, surprise evident in his voice, it wasn't every day he said that. "I can't remember exactly. I think-" Sherlock stood up slowly, attempting to keep his balance. He dusted himself off, noting with distaste that he was wearing a suspenders and a bow-tie. What sort of idiot wears a bow-tie? "I was shocked by something, and was investigating. I remember there was no way a blank wall could have given me such a shock, and then I just... collapsed."
Amy frowned, scratching her head. Sherlock noticed she was resting her hand lightly on the metal railing of the staircase, overly nonchalant about the action. The ginger was up to something…
Amy felt her fingers fall against the cool metal, and she reached desperately to the TARDIS with her mind, hoping she heard her. If the man is telling the truth, she begged, have metal get warmer, if he was lying, get colder.
At first there was no response from the ship, and Amy sighed inwardly. What on Earth was she expected to do with a Doctor who wasn't the Doctor, and might very possibly be evil? Please! She begged the stubborn machine. I need your help.
The TARDIS was always contented when someone needed her help and hers alone. After another moment, the metal railing heated up. Amy exhaled in relief. If the TARDIS trusted whoever was in the Doctor's head, then she supposed she had to also.
Amy realized the not-Doctor was watching her peculiarly. "Do you believe me now?" he said.
Amy frowned, how could he possibly kn-
"It's obvious, really. You said your name's Amy?"
Amy nodded.
"Well then, Amy. Next time you're trying to be discrete about something, don't over compensate. If it's too clear you are trying to not notice something, it becomes noticeable. Now, somehow by touching that railing you've been affirmed that I'm not lying to you, not sure how, but it's a reasonable assumption. Perhaps you have a mongering device of some sort under the rail?"
Amy blinked. "Who are you?"
The not-Doctor gave a tired smile, "Sherlock Holmes, private detective."
With a snort, Amy waited for the railing to cool, but it remained stubbornly warm. She chuckled, looking at the not-Doctor curiously. "But he's just fiction. I used to be obsessed with the books, read them all as a kid."
"Ridiculous." Sherlock sniffed, "No one's written about me, well, besides John. He's got a blog, absolute rubbish."
Amy felt a smirk working up her face. Okay, if she could travel through time with a two hearted alien, why couldn't Sherlock Holmes exist? "Wait, John as in John Watson? He's real too?"
The not-Doctor gave her an are-you-seriously-that-stupid look. "Jeeze, where do you live? Under a rock? You're Scottish, going by your accent, but I'm certain I'm known of there just as well as London."
If Sherlock Holmes had not been stuck in her best friend's mind at that current moment, Amy might have collapsed into fandom mode. "You're from Earth then?" she said instead, "I've never heard of you… I mean outside of the books, but then again, they were set in the nineteenth century. That's probably where you live."
Sherlock opened his moth and then closed it, "Ah, no. I live in the twenty-first century." He frowned, a bit baffled. "Look, you seem to have a better understanding of what's happened, please explain why I am here. Why I'm dressed like this?" he pointed down at the bowtie.
Amy smirked, "I think the Doctor missed the fashion train. He always dresses like that."
"And I look like him?"
Amy shook her head, "No, you are him- well, you're in him."
"That's ridiculous!"
"When you're adventuring with the Doctor, you learn to redefine ridiculous…" the ginger answered.
Sherlock snorted, "And he wears bowties? How old is he, 90?"
Amy laughed, "Oh you have no idea, I actually think he's nine hundred and seven."
"Seriously?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He could tell she wasn't joking, but that made no sense.
"Yes, seriously!" Amy smiled, more at ease now. "Nine hundred and seven. I don't know, maybe bowties are the thing on his planet."
Sherlock gave a short bark of laughter, "What are you saying? He's from another planet?"
Amy opened her mouth and then shut it again. She knew from the stories Sherlock Holmes was not the sort to believe in aliens or time travel. "I- yes, well, I'll just show you."
