The boy tried to run, but the Doctor chased after him.
"Sherlock, come back!" called out the Doctor.
Even after being chased by Eloise, he was still able to keep up with and catch him. He grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him down, and pinned him to the ground.
The Doctor gazed down at the boy and got a better look. He looked like Sherlock, but it wasn't really him.
"So first I get one that has the name but not the face. Now I get one with the face but not the name. The universe is laughing at me."
"Let me go, please! I didn't mean any harm, I didn't do anything!"
"Except get my friend hauled away by the police in your place. What's your name, son?"
The boy looked confused to be called "son" by a kid so young, but he didn't mention it. "Lee Scarlet. I've got to get out of here."
"No. First you're going to help me get my friend back, since it is your fault it happened in the first place. And then you can go free."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I turn you over to the police."
Lee's eyes flashed nervously. "You wouldn't."
"I wouldn't enjoy it, but don't think for a second that I won't."
"All right, I'll help you. But first, let's go somewhere more private."
The Doctor followed Lee off the orphanage grounds, and into a dark alley. Once they were out of sight, Lee turned and swung a fist at him. But he had been expecting a double-crossing, and neatly dodged it. He whipped out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at his head. The green light flashed and it buzzed, and Lee gripped the sides of his head in pain.
Still clutching his head, the Doctor took him by the arm and led him to the Tardis, which was parked on a street corner by the orphanage. He unlocked the door and threw him inside. He shut the door and fired up the Tardis, and when he opened the door again, they were high above the clouds.
The Doctor grabbed Lee by the back of his shirt and showed him where they were. Lee's eyes widened and he let out a confused and terrified yelp.
"I don't enjoy threatening people. It always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But I'm done playing games, and so if you don't help me, so help me I will throw you out of my ship."
"What are you?" he whimpered.
"Irrelevant. Now, where is Sherlock? The boy they took in your place?"
"I'm not sure exactly." At the look the Doctor gave him, he quickly explained. "What I mean is, I know where he is. He's in the madhouse, the place no one ever talks about. It's where all the loony kids get sent, and so everyone else pretends it doesn't exist. Anyone who sends their kid there says they went to live with a distant relative, or declare them dead, so they don't have to live with the shame.
"But I don't know where it is, exactly. I escaped during the night, and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, I just focused on getting as far away from that place as I could."
"The madhouse…" whispered the Doctor. With each second that ticked by, images flashed through his mind of every possible treatment method they could be using on Sherlock. "Oh my God, what have I done? What did they do to you there?"
"They gave me medicine, and shocked me," said Lee with a shiver. "I'm not crazy, I swear I'm not."
"Then why did they lock you away?"
Lee hesitated a moment, then blurted, "I'm a liar, okay? I make up stories. At first it was just to make my sisters happy, because our parents are dead and our grandparents were awful to us. They believed my stories and loved them, and so I never told them they weren't real. But then one of my sisters told a teacher, and when I wouldn't admit I'd been lying, they decided that I was delusional and had me locked up. I couldn't tell the truth, because the stories are all my sisters had. They're all little, and it would have broken their hearts to know they weren't real. I'm so worried about them, I haven't seen them in months."
The memories of his time in the asylum had made him sick to his stomach, and Lee had to fight back the urge to vomit. There were tears in his eyes, and the Doctor put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.
"Just so you know, I never would have thrown you out and sent you plummeting to the ground, not without a parachute anyway. And I'm glad you escaped, I honestly am, but I need you to help me find my friend. He's not insane either, but he's taken your place and so you owe it to him to help me. Surely you must have some idea of how to get into the asylum."
"I really don't. But you could… no, it would never work."
"What's your idea?"
"Well, you could pretend to be insane. It doesn't take much to get committed, you probably wouldn't have to work all that hard."
"Why Lee, that's an excellent idea!"
"But then you'd just be a prisoner yourself, you can't save him if you're locked up too! And you're just a kid, there's nothing you can do."
The Doctor rose up and said, "Lee Scarlet, I may have the face of a child, and I may act childishly on occasion, but by no means am I one. I am a Time Lord of Gallifrey. I am 1,379 years old. I've fought in wars and ended them. I've built up civilizations and I've torn them down. My name strikes fear into the hearts of all who oppose me. I've lost all my friends in the past, and I am not about to lose this one. He's just a little boy, like you, with his entire life ahead of him. There is no question as to whether or not I can save him, and you will help me do it. Is that clear?"
Lee looked up at him with fear and reverence in his eyes as he nodded. The Doctor had finally succeeded in commanding respect, but now he remembered why he hadn't liked it in previous incarnations. He didn't want their respect, he wanted their friendship. It's why he hated it when people insisted on saluting him.
"All right, good then. Now, let's get to work on our plan. If I'm correct, there will be a parade tomorrow with the queen in the lead…"
They spent most of the rest of the night making plans. Actually, Lee fell asleep a mere hour and half later, and so the Doctor was left to pace around the Tardis, thinking hard. They'd formed an overall plan, and though it was a very simple plan, he kept himself busy by working out the finer details.
He let Lee get some much needed rest, and then he took them back to earth, though far enough in the future that it was daytime and the parade was already well underway.
Lee and the Doctor made their way to the local butcher, who was in the back room butchering a hog. Just as they had planned, the Doctor went around back while Lee called him up front and kept him distracted. He asked him the prices of each cut of meat he had, and when he tried to get back to work (because he knew that such a ragged boy couldn't possibly have any money to buy anything) he began asking him questions about his personal life, keeping him distracted on the subject of himself.
The Doctor sonic'd open the locked back door and found the pig being carved. There was a bucket to catch the blood that came out. He quickly stripped down to just his pants.
"The things I do for my companions," sighed the Doctor as he lifted the bucket over his head, the blood inside sloshing over the edges. He tipped it over and blood rained down from above, covering every inch of him in it.
He grabbed his clothes and got out just before the butcher came back. No doubt he would wonder where the blood had gone. He unlocked the Tardis door and pitched his blood spattered clothes inside, and then made his way quickly to the parade.
The sky was cloudy, and the smell of the air promised rain and lightning. Luckily though, it was far off and wouldn't happen till later. He'd be the one raining on everyone's parade, not the clouds.
It was taking up every street, and the crowd was so large there was hardly any room to breathe. He pushed his way through the crowd, and many people gasped and pointed as he went by. Some even screamed, but they were all too busy watching the parade to do anything about him.
He ran through the crowd until he reached the front, where the queen was smiling and waving to her loyal subjects. He then ran in front of the float and leapt into the queen's lap. She screamed in horror as he took her crown off her head and put it on his own. He then threw his arms around her in a bloody embrace and kissed her cheeks.
"Oh mumsy, I finally found you! Thank heavens, I thought I'd lost you for good this time. I've so much to tell you! I was kidnapped by a big blue box, and now I'm surrounded by human aliens! Aliens, aliens, everywhere I look! I tried pinching myself, but I'm not waking up! All I see are blasted aliens!" He gasped, then shrieked, "Lady Queen, you're an alien, too!"
The queen continued to scream and cry loudly long after the guards pulled him away from her and took him to the police station. He kept screaming about how the aliens were going to harvest his organs and take over his mind and try to sell him things until men in white coats from the asylum came to pick him up. Wordlessly, they put him in a straightjacket and brought him to a small white car that looked strangely like a hearse. To play it up some more, he kicked and screamed and cried and drooled, until they threatened to drug him. He needed to remain alert, so he calmed down somewhat after that.
During the trip, the Doctor began banging his head loudly against the window in boredom. The men tried to ignore it at first, but the sound was very irritating and he wouldn't stop. So they ended up taking some rope and tying his head to the seat.
They reached the asylum, which was three stories high. He had been expecting something similar to a Victorian style haunted house, but it looked like any other hospital. The lawn and garden were even well kept, inviting people in.
They untied his head and brought him to a large bathroom with several tubs. They unstrapped the straightjacket, but left his pants on, and dropped him in the tub, which was full to the brim with icy cold water. The men left and were replaced by an orderly, a large man in his mid-forties. He picked up a scrubber and some soap and began the arduous task of scrubbing all the blood away. It was clear by the look on his face that he would rather be doing anything else.
The water made him shiver and the scrubber made sandpaper feel like silk, but the Doctor kept smiling the entire time, and sang a few verses of Bohemian Rhapsody and Flying Purple People Eater.
Once he was more or less clean, he was given a grey uniform to wear and the straightjacket was put back on. He was then was taken to a small office where a woman sat behind a desk wearing glasses, and pointed to the chair in front of him. He obediently sat down and let out a loud scream, making the woman jump.
"What's the matter?" she asked, flustered.
"Nothing, why do you ask?" he said as he cocked his head to one side.
"Nevermind," she said as she cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses to compose herself. "Now, let's begin. Who are you?"
"Yes, that is true."
"No, what is your name? Can you tell me your name?"
"Yes, I can tell you my name. My name is Johnny Holmes. No wait, that's not right, that's not my name at all. I'm the Doctor. Nope, wait, that's not it either. My real name is actually a secret. Sometimes I don't even remember what it is."
She took out a pen and notepad and began taking notes. She didn't look at him again.
"Okay, Johnny. I won't ask many more questions for now, but you'll be staying with us for some time. We'll have our doctor look at you tomorrow. We're going to help you, do you understand?"
The Doctor nodded his head yes, and then in contrast, shook it no. He then said, "Would you like to know a secret? I'm Batman."
"Who's Batman?"
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Bruce Wayne is Batman, nice guy, no sense of humor though. No, I was just too afraid to tell you my real secret."
"And what is your real secret?"
He crossed his eyes. "I'm not human."
This made the indifferent woman look up. "Beg pardon?"
"I'm not even from this planet. I do like it very much though, it's a very silly place. And I would love nothing more than to spend a very long time here with you and the orderlies and the doctors and the other children, it'll be a blast."
"I see…" said the woman as she scribbled something down on a notepad.
"Have you seen my brother, Sherlock Holmes? I need to make sure he got his invitation to the sontaran birthday party."
"I'm afraid we can't allow that, Johnny."
"You don't have to let him out of his room, I just want a quick peek at him. That's all right, isn't it?"
"I can't allow it. But it's not just that. He's in therapy with Dr. Quill."
"Who's Dr. Quill?"
"You'll be meeting with him soon enough, he can introduce himself then."
The woman called in an orderly to have him taken to his cell. It was a different orderly from the one who had bathed him, he was unsurprised to see.
He took him down a long hallway filled with the screams and cries of miserable children, and it took every ounce of willpower to keep from reacting. He could no longer keep up the loopy smile, and so he assumed a blank expression to mask the barely controlled rage boiling inside him.
He brought him to his cell. The door was small and made of metal, and written on it was the number 3477J.
"J for Johnny," commented the Doctor in a sing-song voice as the orderly opened the door. He took him inside and unfastened the straightjacket, freeing his arms.
"Anything else you'd like to say before I close the door?" asked the orderly.
"You have beautiful eyes."
The orderly grunted and rolled his eyes, and then turned to leave.
"Actually, I think I feel rather ill," said the Doctor. He made himself vomit all over the floor. He then convulsed his body, imitating a seizure.
Whether because he actually cared, or because he was afraid of losing his job the Doctor couldn't tell, but he either way, the orderly rushed to his aid. He knelt by his side, and the moment he touched him to try to help him, he threw back his head, knocking it into the orderly's jaw. The orderly cried out in pain and held his broken jaw in his hands, and the Doctor took his keys and locked him in his own cell.
He then began to open every cell down the hall, telling each child inside to go to the orphanage. He warned them all to be quiet so they wouldn't get caught, but most seemed unable to manage it.
"Go to the orphanage! Find sister Elizabeth, she'll take care of you!" he whispered to each one.
He turned the key in one particular door and opened it, but the child inside, a little girl who was younger than he appeared to be, didn't move. He ran inside and shook her shoulder.
"Come on! We haven't got much time! You've got to run, now!" he yelled desperately.
But for all his efforts, she wouldn't budge. Her eyes were open, but they were empty windows. She probably didn't even hear him. If she did, she was too far gone to leave on her own.
She had blonde curls and jade green eyes. She looked like a porcelain doll, broken before she'd had a chance to live. She might have already been mentally ill before her time here, or she might have been normal, but driven insane. Either way, the Doctor couldn't leave her there, he would never forgive himself if he did.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, but you're going to have to wait," said the Doctor as he scooped her up in his arms. She suddenly seemed to awaken and tried to fight him.
"Leave me alone! Put me down or I'll kill you!"
"No, no, it's okay! I'm nice, I'm here to save you!"
"I don't want to be saved! This is my home! Now go away or I'll call Dr. Quill on you!"
"I'll just add that to my list of things that are never going to happen."
He picked her up and carried her writhing body out the door. She was weak from malnutrition, drugs, and the shock treatments and so she couldn't put up much of a fight, but the kicking, screaming, and pulling of hair didn't make his task any easier.
He continued unlocking doors as he went, freeing the children from their cages. He knew most of them really did need psychiatric care (actually they probably all would after this ordeal) but it was not to be found here.
He carried the girl up a flight of stairs and out the door. So the children were kept underground, he saw. He put the girl down outside and didn't wait to see if she would try to get back in. He rushed back inside to make sure all the children had left, and found that there were several more children who hadn't left their cells.
One girl ran to him, her face dirty and streaked with tears.
"You've got to help me! I don't belong here!"
"It's all right, just follow the others and go to the orphanage, you'll be safe there."
"No! You don't understand!" she screamed hysterically. "I was taken from my parents. I don't know where they are, or where I am. Someone took me away from them and I don't know why. I can't find my family, I'm surrounded by strangers. I'm scared, I'm so scared. I'm lost and I don't know what to do. No one will believe me, they think I'm mad, and no one will help me."
Hicupping sobs wracked her body as a fresh stream of tears poured down her grimy cheeks.
"It's all right, it's going to be okay," he said softly as he took her in his arms to console her. He gently stroked her hair, and felt his shirt wet with her tears. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Molly Hooper!"
It was like he'd been hit with a wrecking ball. He looked down at her, eyes wide.
"This isn't supposed to happen," he said as he continued to stare down at her.
He released her and looked her in the eye. "I'll come back later, but for now I have to go save my friend and you need to get out of here. I'll come back, and I will help you."
"Okay," she sniffled.
He unlocked another cell and picked up a boy who made no attempt to fight him. He seemed to be catatonic. It broke his heart to see these children this way, and he was becoming more and more worried that Sherlock was catatonic, as well. Or worse.
Before he could carry the boy outside, staff rushed in to stop him. Regretfully, he set the boy down and ran in the opposite direction, away from the prison, back to the office. He ran up the stairs, stopping on each level to throw open every door, but they were all empty. The staff were all trying to catch the children that had made it outside, and so he was able to navigate the asylum without running into trouble.
He came to the top level, and by then he was panting from the exertion. He opened the first door he came to after that. This door led to a small bedroom, with woman with auburn hair in a white dress looking out a window.
He didn't bother with keeping up the insane charade. "My name is the Doctor. Where's Dr. Quill?"
She turned around to look at him, a sad smile on her face. "You're that new boy they brought in today. They said you were barking mad, but you look as sane as any other person. You brought the police here tonight, didn't you?"
"Police?"
She motioned for him to look out the window, and outside he saw several police officers assisting in rounding up the children.
"It's all over now," she said. "The police will find out everything and shut us down. We'll be arrested. And for what? All I wanted was to make those children behave normally, fit into society."
"You torture them to make them like everyone else? You lock them in cages like dogs and keep them underfed and over-drugged, and you electrocute them too. That doesn't cure insanity, it causes it!"
"Our methods may be viewed by some as being a tad extreme, but it's what's necessary. Nothing else will work. And you should know, I don't torture the children. I talk to them and give them medication, but I have never laid a hand on a single one."
"You let Dr. Quill do that, don't you? Well I've got news for you. Turning a blind eye and allowing torture to happen is just as bad as if you were the one throwing the switch. And now you must account for your actions."
"I have nothing to apologize for. But I will not go to prison, I will not." She threw open the window and swung her leg over the side, and let herself fall.
"I don't think so!" shouted the Doctor as he grabbed her hand. He'd forgotten that he lacked the strength he'd once had, and now it was all he could do to keep himself from falling with her. They were on the top floor, and if they fell, they would both die. "You will answer for your crimes, and I won't let you kill yourself to escape."
"You've ruined us! I should take you with me!" she yelled up at him.
"If you could try to climb back inside the window, that'd be great!"
"Lee told me you're not human, that you're an alien. Did you tell him that, or did he come up with it on his own?"
"Firstly, his name is Sherlock Holmes, not Lee Scarlet. Secondly, yes I did tell him that. And now the alien is trying to save your life, so if you could please cooperate-"
A sudden blast of lightning struck a tree right by the window, and the blinding flash and deafening thunder startled the Doctor and made him lose his grip on her.
"No!" he cried as he tried to grab her, but it was no use. She screamed until she landed with a sickening thud on the ground below.
The Doctor turned around and left the room to find Sherlock. He'd tried every other room, he had to be somewhere on this floor. After opening more doors, he came to the last one. He flung it open and gasped when he saw what was inside.
It was worse than he'd ever imagined.
Sherlock was strapped onto a table, his eyelids half-shut. There were marks on his forehead, like those a surgeon would make so he would know where to cut. A short, elderly man looking way more excited than was appropriate stood by the table, counting surgical instruments. By the bed was a machine the Doctor had seen before, used by doctors to treat their patients with electrical shocks. The man, who must be Dr. Quill, looked up to see who the intruder was. Sherlock's head was strapped down and so he couldn't look to see who it was.
"So, you're about to perform a craniotomy and extract the brain, aren't you?" he said casually as he made his way over to the table.
Dr. Quill put down the instruments he was holding and came over to grab the Doctor. "Leave now, boy, or I'll force you out."
"Give me Sherlock and I'll go."
"Doctoor," slurred Sherlock. Just as the Doctor had suspected, he'd been drugged. But not enough to keep him from feeling anything during the operation.
"I'm afraid I can't, at least not until after the procedure is complete. His mind is like none other I've ever seen, I must study it. Tragic that it should happen to such a young child, but what is one life compared to all of mankind? I, Dr. Eugene Quill, will be remembered throughout history for the discoveries I'll make with a brain such as this."
"I find that going down in history isn't always a good thing," said the Doctor calmly. "If it's a brain you want, then take mine."
Quill snorted. "And what would I want with a brain like yours?"
"I'm the alien Sherlock was talking about," said the Doctor as he causally leaned on the table. "I'm a Time Lord, and I have the greatest mind you could ever hope to study."
"Oh really now?" Quill scoffed. "And how, little boy, would you prove that to me?"
"Like this." The Doctor touched Quill's hand before he could snatch it away. With that brief touch, he transferred an infinitesimal fraction of his knowledge of math and physics, but at a level that no human could ever comprehend.
Quill stumbled back, amazed by what he'd seen. He eyed the Doctor like a starving wolf eyeing a sheep.
"You would really give yourself up for him?"
"I won't face the alternative."
"Very well then." He unstrapped Sherlock and moved him onto the floor. The Doctor then climbed up on the table and laid down, and allowed Quill to strap him down.
"So noble of you," he commented as he reached for a scalpel.
"Promise you'll let Sherlock go, and that you won't hurt him ever again."
"I promise. I don't need him anymore, anyway."
He positioned it behind the Doctor's ear and began to slice open the skin.
He felt blood ooze down the side of his face and he gritted his teeth from the pain. His hands curled up into fists and he fought down the urge to cry out. He didn't want the last thing Sherlock heard from him to be cries of agony.
He cut along his hairline until he reached his other ear, and then peeled his scalp back, until he could see most of the skull. Quill then put down the scalpel and reached for a bone saw to begin removal of the skull. The pain was unbearable and it was only going to get worse, but still he refused to give in and scream.
Vaguely, it occurred to him that in a way, he had still failed Sherlock. He'd be trapped in this time period, and by the time he got back to his own time, he'd be middle-aged, his life half over. Or he might take the Tardis and try to fly it again, and he was scared to think where he might end up. He hoped Sherlock would be able to forgive him one day.
Just as Quill was about to dig into his skull, Sherlock woke up from his drug-induced haze enough to stand and throw himself on Quill's back. He was very disoriented and weak, but when Quill tried to pull him off, he wouldn't let go.
Quill finally managed to pull him off, and when he did, Sherlock grabbed the bloody scalpel and leapt back on his back, and held it to his throat.
"Release him, or I'll kill you," he growled.
Having no other choice, Quill undid the straps. The Doctor's head was bleeding profusely, but he jumped off the table. He took the metal halo attached to the machine and shoved it on the man's head.
"No, don't!" yelled Quill.
"When I pull the lever, jump off of him, Sherlock."
Sherlock nodded, and when the Doctor pulled the switch he jumped off, and just in time, too. Quill collapsed to the floor and writhed in agony.
The Doctor let it go on for a few seconds, then shut it off. Ignoring his bleeding wound, he knelt down on his knees by Quill's side and growled, "Did you ever take the time to look at your guinea pigs, Quill? Did it ever occur to you the damage you were doing? So many young, brilliant minds you've fractured, or even completely destroyed. And all for what? To make a better human being? Humans are fine the way they are, and you have no right to try to change that, especially not like this. Now feel the torture you forced on them."
Quill screamed and begged for mercy as the switch was thrown again and he was filled with more electricity, but the Doctor just watched. The look on his face was not of victory, but of justice and vengeance.
As Sherlock observed the scene before him, he knew the Doctor wasn't doing this for himself. No, he didn't care about that. He cared about him, and all the children he'd hurt. Nothing brought out this side of the Doctor, the angry warrior, the vengeful god, more than seeing innocents tortured or killed, especially children. He was letting all the pain and rage that he usually kept so well hidden rise to the surface and control him.
Sherlock was savoring Dr. Quill's pain. He felt a cruel satisfaction in hearing him scream and plead for relief, and in knowing that he was finally getting what he deserved.
But he suddenly remembered something the Doctor had told him once.
"You're my friend, and you remind me of myself. You need someone to look after you, to make sure you don't go too far and keep you out of trouble. You don't realize it, but you've been doing the same for me."
He still didn't really understand what the Doctor had meant when he'd said that, but this seemed to be what he was talking about. He didn't think this man deserved any mercy, but he knew that the Doctor would later regret his actions, because he was the Doctor. He hated this side of himself, and this would only make it worse, no matter how justified he was.
And so, even though he was enjoying his sweet revenge, he knew he had to put an end to it, before the Doctor ended up killing him.
He tapped the Doctor on the shoulder, and he whipped his head back to look at him. His expression was positively frightening, but Sherlock looked past it and said, "I think you should stop now."
"Not until I make this man truly comprehend the pain of all these children. You don't know what he did to them, Sherlock! You're better off than most of them, and you nearly had your brain extracted!"
"I know, but you've taken it far enough. Let's just go back to the Tardis, all right? Please?"
The Doctor looked torn, indecisive. His expression softened a little and he took a deep breath, and then he switched off the machine. Dr. Quill stopped screaming, and gasped for air.
Just then, two police officers barged through the door. They opened their mouths to say something, but froze when they caught sight of the scene before them, especially the Doctor, who was now saturated in his own blood.
"Did this man do this to you?" asked one of the cops as he pointed to Quill. The Doctor didn't respond.
"Yes, he did," said Sherlock, answering for him. "He tortured both of us, and all the other kids here. I need to get my brother to a hospital now," he said, and they didn't stop him. He heard the click of handcuffs as they walked away.
The Doctor was losing a lot of blood quickly, but he didn't seem to notice. He was starting to have trouble walking, and so Sherlock helped him down the stairs and outside.
Once they were outside, a girl Sherlock had never seen before ran up to them.
"It's you again. What happened to you?" she asked.
"Go away," he told her flatly. Sherlock had enough on his mind right now and he didn't want to deal with a mad orphan at the moment.
She squared her shoulders, though she still looked nervous. "He let me go, and he promised he'd help me."
The Doctor took her hands in his bloody ones and said, "I'm going to fix this, Molly. I'm going to set things right and get you back where you belong. You're going to be all right, do you understand?"
"Yes, but how?"
"Not sure yet, but I promise I will not forget you."
Molly looked like she wanted to believe him, but was too scared to trust anyone. The Doctor let go of her hands and the two walked away, leaving her there.
"Who was she, Doctor?" asked Sherlock. "What do you mean, you're going to fix things?"
"It's complicated. That's all there is to it."
Sherlock let the subject drop after that.
"We're not going to a hospital, by the way," said the Doctor.
"I know. Where's the Tardis?"
It was miles away. If they asked for help from the police, they'd force him to go to a hospital. So he did what any child of his age would do. He stole a police cruiser and they drove away before anyone noticed.
"I should drive the car," said the Doctor as they were speeding away. Sherlock's feet barely reached the pedals. "I'm the grownup, I'm over a thousand years old, and I've driven just about every vehicle imaginable."
"Have fun giving that story to the police if we get caught."
The Doctor scowled in defeat.
"Besides, you're flooding the car with your blood, you'd probably get us killed."
"It's a head wound, they bleed a lot. I'll be fine, I'll just need you to help me fix it when we get back."
"Fun times," muttered Sherlock.
They drove in awkward silence the rest of the way. Both had things they wanted to say, but weren't sure how to articulate their thoughts into words.
The Doctor gave him directions, and when they were close he could hear sirens behind them. They reached the Tardis, but when they opened the door, another police cruiser pulled up next to them. Two cops came out and got on both sides of the car.
"Get out of the car with your hands up!" they ordered.
Sherlock and the Doctor both climbed out with their hands on their head.
"What were you boys thinking? Stealing a police car?"
"I needed to get him to a hospital," said Sherlock smoothly.
"That is no reason to steal a car. You could have gotten killed, or killed someone else."
"I've got an idea," said the Doctor. "Call me an ambulance, and while you do, Sherlock and I will wait in the police box. That way we can't run away while we're waiting."
The cop looked suspicious that he would suggest something like that, but didn't see the harm in it. The Doctor unlocked the door and the two went inside. One of the cops went to find a public phone, but before he'd taken three steps, the police box vanished before their very eyes.
"What the hell?" one of them whispered.
Sherlock went to find the medical kit the Doctor kept on board, while the Doctor sat down in his swing under the console. He was now drenched in so much blood that he looked like he'd been swimming in it. It was a miracle he could still function, let alone stay awake. Sherlock handed him the case, but he set it down on the floor.
"You know, earlier I was soaked with pig's blood, and now I'm bloody again." Sherlock didn't bother asking why he would be soaked with pig's blood. "Cover your ears," said the Doctor flatly.
The Doctor put on thick, heavy gloves. He then opened a hatch with many different wires behind it. He took one in his hands, counted to three, and then pressed it firmly against his the skin of his head. This time, there was no holding back the bloodcurdling scream that tore its way out of his chest.
He removed it after a few seconds. The wound was closed, but it still looked terrible. His hands shook from the blood loss and from the pain. Sherlock took a cleaning pad and used it to clean the burned skin, the Doctor grimacing as he did. He was blinking in and out of consciousness with the pain.
Once he had finished, the Doctor mumbled, "Thank you for stopping me."
Sherlock didn't want him to thank him for that, it felt wrong. "Would you like me to help you to your hammock?"
"No, I think I'll die if I have to move anymore. Leave me here."
The Doctor closed his eyes, but didn't fall asleep. Sherlock got up and went to find his room, but before he left the console room, without turning back, he said, "And, er, um, thanks for taking my place. That was… that was… a nice thing to do. Yeah."
He ran to his room and laid down on his bed. He looked up at the real, tiny stars that hung suspended over his bed that the Doctor had collected.
He couldn't believe the Doctor had nearly sacrificed himself to save his life. He knew he admired him (he'd had him sign his book, after all) but that was still a big thing to do for someone you'd only met barely a month ago. He supposed it was because of the Doctor's overly-heroic nature, his need to protect everyone around him. It was going to get him killed someday, he was sure of that.
As he tried to get some rest, that seed sprouted up again in his mind. He tried to push it away, but it kept nagging at him like an irksome fly.
None of this was logical. None of it made sense. He'd been aware of that since day one, but he'd learned to let it go and enjoy the ride. But now it was harder to ignore.
Was it possible that the Doctor was made up, a fairy tale of his own making? A hero to take him on deadly adventures, a friend to talk to when he grew tired of the silence.
If he ever tried to tell his mother, or Mycroft, they would think he was being ridiculous. If he kept it up, they would get concerned and maybe even lock him away. That's what he would do, if someone told him this story.
He screamed into his pillow to calm himself down, and then set to work with the tools and metal pieces the Doctor had given him. He'd originally planned to build a robot, but it looked so unlike a robot that he decided he would keep working on it and see the end result.
He didn't sleep at all that night, even though his entire body was clamoring for it. He needed rest to recover from the ordeal, but he had to keep his mind busy. He didn't want that seed growing any more than it already had.
He didn't want the adventures to end. He didn't want to lose his friend. He wanted to traverse the stars forever and ever, but he was terrified that the end was drawing near.