"So...Moriarty and The Master are working together?" asked The Doctor, after Sherlock had explained his theories to him.
"Obviously. They did this...the question is how..."
"The Master brought himself back to life. He can do anything. He's clever..."
"Moriarty's a criminal mastermind. His web is...huge. He can do anything, at any time, know anything..."
"So Moriarty's the brains, and The Master's the muscle- in terms of machinery, executing plans, using alien technology."
"It certainly seems like it."
"He's wasted. He's a complete genius."
"Not as genius as the consulting criminal."
"That's what he calls himself?"
"I'll thank you for not stating the obvious on such a regular bases, Doctor, it's really quite annoying."
The Doctor paused for a minute. "What kind of name's Sherlock Holmes?"
"What kind of name's The Doctor? It's not even a name, it's a title."
"I'll thank you for not stating the obvious."
Sherlock glared at The Doctor. "I'll throw you out the window."
"You wouldn't."
"I would, I've done it before."
"He has." said John.
"I'd like to see you try."
Five minutes later, The Doctor was lying on the pavement outside of 221b Baker Street, not seriously injured but very annoyed. He had just been thrown out of a window!
He vaulted the window ledge, avoiding the broken glass, and hurled himself against Sherlock, who collapsed.
"Why," The Doctor said, angrily, "did you throw me out a window?!"
"You annoyed me." Sherlock said as he stood up.
"I annoyed you."
"Stating the obvious, ag-"
The Doctor threw a punch at Sherlock, who ducked it and rammed into him, sending him flying across the room and very nearly back out of the window.
"Sherlock!" shouted John.
"What?"
"You knocked him out! Again!"
Sherlock shrugged. "It's his own fault."
"No it's not!" John shouted. He sat down and put his head in his hands. "We get a new flatmate. You nearly kill him. How have I survived this long?"
"You're not boring."
"How is a time travelling alien boring?"
Sherlock sighed.
"You need a case."
"A case is the last thing I need. I have to focus on getting the second heart out of me and into him."
"How do you plan on doing that?"
"I don't know. First thing is to find Moriarty and this Master, Harold Saxon or whatever."
"The police need you."
"They've got you."
John looked at Sherlock quizzically. "You want me to take your cases?"
"Yes- well, some of them. If you wouldn't mind."
"It doesn't look like I have a choice."
Sherlock smiled at John, his best friend, his only friend, and realized just how lonely he would be without him.
