Madeline heard a loud whirring sound. She shook Sherlock awake violently. "Do you hear that?" She whispered. The detective threw on his blue robe and pulled his gun from the drawer in the bedside table. He slowly crept down the hallway with his arm slightly extended behind him to keep Madeline back. He didn't have to worry; she wasn't the least bit inclined to rush past him and confront the source of the noise first.
"Oh look, a cat! I speak cat, too." A voice said loudly. Sherlock rushed forward quickly then stopped. A blue box sat in the middle of the living room. An old police box from some time in the 1900's.
"How the hell did that get in the den?" Madeline whispered. Sherlock threw the windows and doorframe a glance to see if someone had used drills to bring the telephone booth in as a prank. Sherry streaked out from behind the box, chased by a tall gangly man in a fez and a tweed jacket. Sherlock immediately swung his gun up to face the intruder, who stopped so quickly that his fez fell into his hands. He tossed the hat like a Frisbee at Sherlock, and when the detective batted it away the intruder had already taken a seat in the detective's chair. Sherlock's jaw twitched.
"Hello!" The man said cheerfully. "Don't be alarmed. The time circuit malfunctioned, I was supposed to go to Quadrant Six." He pulled something from his coat, and Sherlock stepped closer with his gun.
"What are you blithering about?" He snapped. Madeline peered over his shoulder to get a better look at the man, but the detective nudged her backwards. The intruder wiggled his hand at her and grinned.
"I'm the Doctor, in case you were wondering… which you probably were, of course." He said, springing from Sherlock's chair and spinning to a stop in front of him. The Doctor stuck his hand out to Sherlock with a lopsided grin and flexed his hand in a coaxing motion to encourage the detective to take it. Madeline reached underneath Sherlock's arm and shook the intruder's hand. The detective scowled and noted the cat hairs up and down his sleeves, not lowering his gun even an inch.
"A doctor of what?" Madeline asked, still a little suspicious but more than a little excited. The Doctor threw his hands up and spun in a circle, and Sherlock stepped back to avoid being hit in the face.
"Oh, anything and everything." The Doctor said mysteriously. "I can show you, if you'd like." He grinned, and Sherlock downright glowered at him.
"That sounds like a threat." The detective deadpanned. The Doctor held up one finger, still grinning.
"On the contrary, it's an invitation." He stepped back towards the blue police box, and Sherlock lowered his gun slightly. The Doctor twirled the small device he'd pulled from his coat in his hand and swept it over and around the phone booth as it made a high-pitched buzzing noise. The Doctor made an irritated sound and slapped the device on his palm a few times before it beeped and he whooped.
"All fixed! It should work now." He said, more to himself than to Madeline and Sherlock. He seemed to have forgotten that they were even there.
"He's like a happier version of you." She whispered to the detective. He gave her a sour look, and she grinned. "What is that thing?" She asked the Doctor. He spun around in surprise, like he truly had forgotten that he'd intruded into their home.
"This? Oh, this. Yes this is my sonic. My sonic screwdriver if you want to use its trademarked name." He said, twirling the sonic between his fingers and fiddling with it absently. He spoke quickly, not in a guilty way; but in the manner of someone who has too much going through their head to speak slowly.
"As I was saying," The Doctor continued, showcasing a smile with its wattage turned up to one-hundred percent. "I can show you-"The door to 221B burst open, and two men rushed in. Sherlock immediately trained his gun on them and the Doctor held his hands up pleasantly.
"Drop your gun!" The taller of the two new intruders ordered. Sherlock stared him down and kept his gun level until the shorter one pulled the trigger on his own gun and shot the detective in the chest. Madeline shrieked as he fell back onto her and she tried to catch him. The Doctor darted in front of them protectively with a dangerous expression nothing like the amicable, mischievous smile he'd had moments before. He pointed his screwdriver at the two men, although Madeline had no idea how such a small piece of metal would protect them against guns.
"I'd advise you to drop your guns. That'd make everything go much faster, and I'm not that big of a fan of violence you know." He said, talking low and fast.
Madeline threw Sherlock's bathrobe open and pulled up his undershirt, but stopped when she didn't see any blood. She ran her hand gently over his chest and withdrew when her hand grazed his ribs and he groaned. She inspected his arms and waist, then sat back and helped the detective sit up when she was satisfied that he wasn't actually shot.
"What did you shoot him with?" She demanded, jumping to her feet in a sudden bout of anger. She almost stormed past the Doctor, but he threw out a wiry arm to stop her and didn't take his eyes off of the intruders. The taller one looked a little perplexed, and the shorter one looked amused.
"Rock salt." The second one said. "Certified to send all your demons and ghosties back to Hell for a nice vacation." He tossed his gun in his hands aimlessly, and Madeline saw that it was a sawed off shotgun instead of a handgun like she'd originally thought. The taller of the two held his hands up with his gun dangling from his thumb submissively.
"We're sorry," He said earnestly. "I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean. We just shot him with rock salt, I promise."
"You said demons." Madeline said, not caring what the intruders' names were. "And then you shot my fiancée!" The shorter one, Dean, groaned at the word "fiancée" while his brother glared at him.
"We're sorry." Sam repeated. "We've been hunting something throughout London lately. And we got a tip that it would be here." He tossed his gun onto the couch, and Dean did the same with his shotgun. The Doctor flipped his sonic screwdriver back into his palm with an almost sheepish expression.
"That was quite possibly me." He admitted, "It's exciting to have a fanclub, though! I should start styling my hair differently if I'll be dealing with the paparazzi." He brushed at his hair jokingly, but Madeline narrowed her eyes.
"You hunt people?" She snapped, "What the hell?" She ignored the brothers' wince at her phrasing.
"We don't hunt people. That's murder, sweetheart." Dean corrected her. "We hunt ghosts, demons, boogeymen, anything that can fit under your bed or in your closet. That kind of stuff." Sherlock groaned again, and Madeline quickly returned to his side to help the detective to his feet. A large purple bruise was spreading across the right side of his ribcage, and he was still breathing a little heavily.
"What are you doing here?" He growled at Sam and Dean, who had lowered their hands. "You're American. Why hunt something in a different country?"
"Ah yes, that'd be because of me again." The Doctor said, sliding aside and wringing his hands repeatedly. "I sort of caused some minor magnetic and radio disruptions when the TARDIS-"He nodded at the phone box, "-Flew over Pennsylvania. Kudos to the two of you, by the way! What excellent dedication!" He applauded enthusiastically, and to Madeline it seemed as if the Doctor was actually flattered by the two men trying to hunt him down. Sam gave him a perplexed look and held up a finger.
"Just give us a minute." He said, "We need to check something." He and Dean pulled items from their pockets, and while Madeline and Sherlock shrank back instinctively, the Doctor leaned forward with enthusiasm. The Winchesters turned to the blue police box and threw white powder onto it. The phone booth began to crackle like it was actively charged with activity.
"No! Don't throw salt onto it!" The Doctor cried, "That corrodes the controls!" He rushed to the box and almost hugged it as he swept his sonic screwdriver over the wooden walls tenderly. The device beeped arrogantly, and he sighed. Sam and Dean stood back, a little amused and a little off-guard by the Doctor's odd, erratic behavior.
"Since you've already seasoned the outside, I guess you'll want to see the inside too." He said, pointing his sonic at the door without even looking. Dean scoffed.
"Come on, it's like four feet inside. There's no way we can… holy shit." He and Sam gaped at whatever was inside the phonebooth, and Sherlock and Madeline stumbled forward to see what was so intriguing. Through the doorway they could see a large command center and console of sorts surrounded by a catwalk. It looked almost like the inside of a-
"Spaceship." Sherlock said plainly. "It's a spaceship." The Doctor beamed at him and nodded fervently, looking like a child showing off his favorite toy.
"So like I said," He said, once again slipping into his fast and enthusiastic tone. "How about a trip?"