A/N
So I've started cross posting my other fanfiction on Ao3, and I'm considering doing the same with this one. I have to go back and edit all the poor chapters though, because they are so far from my best work and I don't really have time for that .-. Then again I don't really have time to write fanfiction in general so….
ANYWAYS
All comments and reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated, as are any ideas and critique!
Hope you guys like this chapter!
Dirt kicked up from their shoes in large clumps, the two men running from the unholy screeching echoing from the furious stone angel. Dust from the explosion clung to their clothes as they pulled strenuous gasps of air into their lungs, breathing the grimy oxygen deeply and coughing loudly.
Finally stumbling to a stop, the Time Lord looked about, his chest heaving while a rather large grin claimed his features.
Coming to a stop next to the alien, the detective leaned over, his body objecting to the sudden exertion, though his eyes are alive and bright with concealed excitement.
"We should be alright for now."
The Doctor breathed, the clearing they were in leading to a large meadow, with yellowed grass and deep grooves marring its way up the hill.
"What did you do back there?"
Sherlock questioned, shrugging his coat off his shoulders and holding it over one arm as he began rolling up the sleeves of his violet dress shirt in an attempt to cool down.
"Nothing much. I activated a few key minerals and components held within the earth here, mixed it with a bit of tree sap and boom."
The Doctor states with a show of his hands, a proud glimmer in his eye as the detective narrowed his own gaze.
"You activated components in the ground? With what, exactly?"
"My sonic screwdriver!"
The Doctor proclaims, patting his jumper down before reaching in one of his pockets and extending the long cylindrical object to the human.
He expects praise for his genius. Perhaps even congratulations on his quick thinking, saving the man from the touch of the angel. Instead, Sherlock reaches out and snatches the device from his hands and turns, holding it closer to his face with brows knit together in confusion and wonder.
"I've never heard of such a thing."
"Course you haven't, I invented it!"
The man scoffs, turning to make a grab for the device that is quickly pulled away again.
"How is it powered?"
"How is it powered?" The Doctor repeats, staring blankly at the detective who fiddles with the piece of machinery."Well, you see it has the, glowy light, and it's got, the extending factor, and it works absolute wonders on locks! Doesn't do wood though. Should really get a wood setting."
The alien fumbles as he tries to speak, his eyes darting over the sonic as if it might answer for him.
"You have no idea how this works? Didn't you create it?"
Sherlock sneers, thrusting the object back at the leather clad individual.
"Of course! It's simply too complicated to explain."
He sniffs, snatching the device back and running his fingers over it as if to assess the damage that might've been caused before he is slipping it back inside his pocket.
"Someone has been through here." Sherlock murmurs, his eyes on a rougher patch of the ground as he kneels, turning his head to one side as he looked down at a mess of tracks left behind. "These, they look like dress shoes. The same ones that the man claiming to be an angel was wearing. And those, over there. Your companion was wearing them. Jack."
"They were here? Just those two?"
The Doctor questions, sprinting around and kneeling beside the other, picking up a blade of grass and twirling it around in his fingers before holding it to his nose and sniffing it.
"Doctor, how is that helping?"
There's a note of irritation in the detective's tone, the alien's blue hues softening just a fraction.
"We'll find them, Sherlock. John, Rose, even those Winchester's."
The Doctor assures the man, his hand clamping down on Sherlock's shoulder before rising once more.
"I'm more concerned with these prints rather than where the others are currently."
The man mutters curtly, pointing down to what he was staring at. Walking closer and leaning his body down, the Doctor stared at the large scuff marks noticeable once brought to attention. It looked as if someone had taken a rather large stone and drug it along the ground. That, or a large stone had drug itself.
"Well then, suppose we'll just have to find them and stop them, while also locating the others."
The Doctor grins, his mood far too cheery for the dire situation at hand, the fake reassurance doing nothing to fool the clever human as Sherlock's eyes brows drew together.
"Have you encountered these creatures before, Doctor, not just heard legend of them?"
Hesitating before he answers, the alien shoved his hands deep within the pockets of his jumper and shrugged.
"First time for everything!"
"You act clever and sure of yourself, Doctor, but how much of that is a charade?" Sherlock demands, rising to his feet and staring the other man down. "You appear to be taking this matter lightly, almost as though you are enjoying it."
"Aren't you?"
The Doctor retorts, his expression becoming somber. Sherlock stares at him for a few tense moments before the faintest trace of a smirk pulls at his lips.
"Fair point."
Is all he says, but the Doctor's grin is returning as he turns a circle and surveys the area.
"There's no weeping angels around, the one I scared off must've run. That, or it knows I don't have my key. Either way, we don't have to worry about them for now and that means we need to figure out a game plan."
The man states, coming back around to face Sherlock.
"Can we even do something about these angels? You said they were made of stone."
"We can. I think. It'll be risky though."
"Risky? How risky?"
Sherlock asks dubiously, folding his arms over his chest with his coat between them.
"Letting them think they have the Tardis." The Doctor frowns, looking down in thought. "If we could get them too.. Yes.. That might work."
"What, Doctor?"
Sherlock demands impatiently, his grimy face as dirty as the Doctor's as he wipes a hand over his eyes.
"It's hard to explain, but trust me, I can fix this."
"Fine," Sherlock mutters, nodding in the direction that the footprints had gone. "Then let's find John."
"Easy!" The alien boasts, pulling the screwdriver from his pocket once more. "I can track them! Gift from the Tardis, you can say. Scans everyone who walks inside, downloads their structural code into my sonic to lead me within three hundred yards of their vicinity."
"You have our structural codes in your device?"
The offended tone is clear in the lilt of the detective's voice, the Doctor inwardly grimacing. Rose had felt similar when she found out that the Tardis had been inside her head. Granted, the scanning was far less intrusive, but humans rarely saw things in such a logical manner.
"It comes in handy for times like these, or when companions run off and get captured or hurt."
The Doctor says carefully, holding the sonic loosely in his hand while Sherlock stared harshly at him.
"What is your machine, Doctor?"
"I told you, it's a space and time machine! You knew that already of course. Just like you knew we were in a different version of your world."
"Your machine, it's alive, isn't it?"
It's phrased like a question, but the way Sherlock says it indicates he already knows the answer.
"Yes, it is."
"How did you acquire such a device?"
"My people invented them. The bigger on the inside? Time Lord technology."
The conversation seemed casual enough, but the way Sherlock's voice edged on accusatory had the Doctor himself remaining cautious. Most people he could lie too, or distract. But with Sherlock Holmes he stood no chance against him.
"I figured as much. I am asking how you personally acquired the machine you have."
"I don't follow."
The Doctor says slowly, knowing full well what exactly the human was asking of him.
"You fail to drive the Tardis with the precise accuracy it requires, bounding from place to place. The way the machine is designed, it appears to need multiple people to steer it properly. Yet you are alone, aside from the other two 'humans' you travel alongside with. I am asking if you stole that machine, if you are running from your people. If you're some kind of outlaw or criminal."
Silence falls over the two of them, Sherlock's questions ringing in the alien's ears as he swallows thickly. Lie. That was what he should do. And yet..
"Yes."
He states calmly, his fingers tightening around the sonic.
"Yes?"
"Yes, I stole the Tardis. It was an older model; it wasn't in proper working order. Actually, I stole it from a museum that's how old it was. And yes, I ran from my people, but not anymore."
"Why not?"
Piercing eyes full of such knowledge yet so very little understanding of emotions and what might happen when one tapped into an unfathomable well stared at the Doctor who felt as if the floodgates were struggling to remain shut.
He hadn't spoken much about the war, not to anyone. He had done his utmost to keep it to himself. To never mention the nightmares. To never mention the flashbacks. He regretted his decision with everything in him. He hated the man that he'd become. And he worked hard to keep the man he once was buried incredibly deep.
Yet here was this man who by comparison was so young. He hadn't been through war. He hadn't had to make the choices the Doctor had to make over and over and over again. How could he possibly understand what had happened, what could possibly happen again someday? How does one even admit out loud that they're the reason their entire race was dead?
"They're dead. All of them."
He says quietly, never once letting his gaze shift from Sherlock's. There's confusion in his eyes, doubt as to whether or not what the Doctor was saying was true or not.
"How did they die?"
He questions ignorantly, not knowing the pain he inflicted with every word, with every inflection of his tone.
"Remember how you said my eyes were old?" The Doctor murmurs, his form stoic and arms stiff at his sides. "That I'd been in war? Well, that's what happened. My people, the Time Lords, they were a part of The Great Time War. These creatures called the Daleks, they killed my people."
Did they? Because they had murdered many, yes. Thousands of Time Lord's . Millions of innocent Gallifreyan's. But they hadn't wiped out the entire race. Hadn't made it fade from existence. Hadn't spent their entire life running from their choices. Sherlock is unusually quiet, simply staring at the Time Lord as if he were pondering something.
"Any more questions?"
The Doctor asks, staring at the detective with a bit more animosity than had previously been there.
"You're the last of your kind, that's what you're saying?"
"Yes."
"How did you manage that?"
Pressing his lips together in a thin line, a heavy sigh finally surpasses the alien's lips.
"Look, I'd love to sit down with a cup of tea and chat about the extinction of my people, but currently there's a bit more of a pressing matter to deal with. Mind if we take care of that first?"
Arching his brow, the Doctor prays the man will let it go. Just for now. Just for a little while. He needed to focus on the task at hand, not get lost in his memories revolving around that awful time.
"Your sonic can locate the others?"
Sherlock relents, with a fair pout on his face as he turns slightly away, eyeing the markings on the ground once more. Breathing a faint sigh of relief, the Doctor nods.
"Just point in the air and-"
His words are cut off by a shrill scream in the distance, barely audible but carried over the rolling hills with a chilled wind.
"That was Rose."
The Doctor murmurs, his head snapping to the left as another scream rips through the atmosphere.
