Sherlock entered 221B a minute later, hanging his scarf and coat up on the hat rack.
"You're late." Said a voice from the other side of the room.
"Only 5 minutes." Sherlock replied sceptically, turning to face his flatmate.
"5 minutes? 5 minutes?!" John said, enraged. He stood up from his seat and slammed his newspaper down. "More like 48 hours and 5 minutes! Where the hell have you been Sherlock?!" He almost shouted. "It's been 2 days! 2 days! You were about 5 bloody minutes away from being declared a missing person!"
2 days? Sherlock thought, puzzled.
"Mrs Hudson's been worried sick! Mycroft's been calling about you! And now you just come back acting as if nothing's wrong! I have a right mind to-" John stopped in the middle of his rant. "And now you're not even listening. Well that's great, just great. This is what you get for living with a sociopath, John. When will you ever learn?"
During John's tirade, Sherlock walked past the army doctor and into the kitchen. Studying the room, it was apparent to the detective that John hadn't slept properly since he left; the stacks of dirty dishes, tea cups and coffee mugs, the lack of food in the fridge or cupboards. Sherlock turned around to face John, who had resorted to glaring at him.
"I'm sorry John. I didn't realise the time, you know how I am when I think. It won't happen again." Sherlock said, in an effort to shut John up so he could think for a minute.
John's brow quirked upwards and his mouth opened. And then closed. And then opened again. Attempting to ignore John's goldfish impressions, Sherlock noticed an anomaly. It was only small, but the electric blue stood out immensely against the glass of the sliding doors. He strode towards the left side, pulling the piece of paper off the glass and slipping it in his pocket swiftly.
"Cup of tea John? Oh look, we're out of milk – I'll go down to the shops now." Sherlock said abruptly, striding past John and grabbing his coat and scarf. Before John could reply, the consulting detective was already out of the door.
Sherlock was stood at the top of the steps of 221b as he pulled the note out. Unfolding the bright blue paper, the detective found a messy scrawl on it; it read only a few words.
'Sorry about that, I told you she wasn't feeling too well; won't happen again.
If you're ever bored, just give me a call. We won't be far behind.'
Sherlock flicked his eyes to the numbers just underneath, then tucked the note back in his pocket and looked up. A smile spread across his face.
Until then, Doctor.
Voila! I hope you liked the fic – I would have posted it ages ago, but I wanted to make sure it was completely finished so you didn't have to wait too long until the next chapter!
So this was only a short story; The Doctor's given Sherlock a small taste for the time travelling life, only a little, but just enough to make the detective want more! There will be definitely be more in the future! I'm going to plan out a PROPER adventure! WITH PROPER ALIENS AND STUFF. AWWW YEAAAHHHHHH. S'gonna be goooood. So keep your eyes peeled for that!
Please review! I WILL BAKE YOU COOKIES OF LOVE andtheneatthemforyobecausei'mthatgenerouswhat. Constructive criticism is very welcome – I'm not a massive massive Doctor Who buff, so I might have gotten a couple facts wrong (fingers crossed though)!
Peace out, Holmies.