He had time to think on the long drive to London. He was logical man, or so he assumed. At least his mind seemed to be trying to organize his situation in the way he imagined a logical man would. Mycroft, which he assumed was his name due to the engraved key around his neck, was trying to start from the basics and build his memory up from there.

He was human, right? That was a stepping stone. Yet...he wasn't sure that was entirely right. If he placed his hand over his right side he could almost feel a second, small heart beat, which was decidedly not normal. Not that he was keen to tell his driving companions that.

There was something vitally important and monumentally bad happening in Bayswater. That was the first thought he'd had upon waking, and the only one he was sure of. But what sort of man woke up in hospital beds with no memory and a vague sense of doom like this? He sighed. An insane one of course. All signs pointed to it, he must be mentally ill and in the midst of a delusion. Why else would he have willingly gotten into a car with this madwoman?

There was another loud honk and Mycroft let out a gasp as Amy came uncomfortably close to another car she was passing. "Good God, Miss Pond, we've just left a hospital. Why are you in such a hurry to return to one?"

She snorted. "What happened to 'get me to Bayswater as fast as you can'? If you want to be so snarky why don't you drive?"

He gaped at her. "I can't even remember if I have the ability, much less a license."

"Then stop bellyaching," she snapped. "We'll be there before sunrise."

"We'd have been there sooner if you hadn't gotten lost twice."

"I've never driven to London before, think you can do better?"

He sighed. "No."

"I thought so," she shook her head. "I don't know why you carry the Doctor's key. He's at least interesting, if late. You've just managed to be a pain in my-"

"What doctor?"

"The Doctor. The one who lives in the magic blue box with his wife."

"Oh My Lord, she's actually insane," he muttered to himself.

"Any idea what we're going to do when we get there?"

He shook his head in frustration. "I've been thinking what I would do if I knew my memory was being taken from me. I believe I'd leave myself a clue."

"Rory!" Amy called.

The sleepy nurse popped up from the backseat, rubbing his eyes. Job security be damned, he had refused to let Amy run off on a strange mission to London with a madman without coming with her. He yawned. "Yeah?"

"What did Mycroft have on him when he was found again?"

Rory pulled out the small paper bag he'd brought with them and dug into it. "Three quid and a watch."

"Three," Mycroft repeated, trying to force his Swiss-cheesed mind to work. "That must be the clue. What come in threes? Musketeers? Kings? Maybe I'm telling myself to look at King's Cross Station. That's not in Bayswater though."

"What about the pocketwatch?" Amy asked.

"Hmm? Oh, that's not important," he shrugged her off. "Perhaps it's the three leaves of the-"

"How do you know it's not important?" She persisted.

"It's just an old watch, I've had it for ages."

"You remember that, do you?"

"Yes, I-" he paused, his face going blank. "How could I? How could I remember having that watch for years when I don't remember anything?"

Amy smirked. "Bingo."

He took the watch from Rory, turning it over in his hands. "That is an excellent thought, Miss Pond."

She waited. "Well, go on, open it up."

He hesitated, fingers hovering over it. Finally he clicked the lock open, and a beam of orange light filled the car. Amy shrieked and jerked the car to the side of the road, earning her more angry honks and shouts from fellow motorists.

"What's happening?" Rory yelled.

"I don't know, he just-"

And then the light was gone. It was just Mycroft sitting there. He gasped loudly and his face was as pained as if it had only just come up for air after hours underwater.

"Mr. Mycroft?" She asked hesitantly. "What was that?"

He smiled at her. "Truly an exceptional thought you had there, Miss Pond. Now please, pass me your phone. We have to warn the Doctor."

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"This is High Gallifreyan," the Doctor said with a frown as he peered over Toshiko's shoulder at the message that had locked down the base. "You say you think it came from James Moriarty?"

"Obviously not him alone," Sherlock said. "He had help from someone who knows a lot about Timelord technology. It wasn't me, and if Mycroft hasn't finally become a supervillain and kidnapped himself, I assume that leaves only one suspect."

"But why now?" Rose asked, leaning against the desk. "The Master's been quiet for so many years, why attack us?"

The Doctor just shrugged.

Rose narrowed her eyes. "You know something about this, don't you?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't… I don't think he was attacking us. The last time we spoke he said Sherlock and Mycroft-"

"You spoke to him?" Rose said accusingly. "You've seen the Master since the boys have been alive and didn't tell me?"

"I thought it would only worry you," he admitted. "And we weren't in any danger. I ran into him a few decades ago. Well, more like he found me. He told me he'd seen the boys, and that they fascinated him. He told me to take care of them."

"Why?" Rose asked.

"Instinct, I think. I feel it when I see them, too. There are so few of us left, any piece of Gallifrey that still exists must be protected. If the Master is involved in this, and he locked Sherlock down here, it was probably for his own protection."

"So are we locked down for good?" Jack asked.

"Oh, no," the Doctor shrugged. "I can fix this. Might take me a few days. More importantly the TARDIS can pop in and out."

Rose's phone rang and she answered immediately. Her eyes lit up. "Mycroft?" She grabbed the Doctor's arm and put it on speaker. "Mike! Oh thank God, we thought you'd been taken."

"I was," he said gravely. "What's the date?"

"July seventh," Gwen called.

"Aw, Mike," Rose smiled sadly, "Happy birthday."

"Then I was taken about seven days ago. I was held in a remote location I believe, I was unconscious during transport. James Moriarty was-" There was the sound of him struggling with the phone and arguing with someone.

"Mycroft?" the Doctor called worriedly.

"Doctor?" a female voice came through the phone. "Is this the Doctor and Rose?"

The Timelord grinned. "Is that Miss Amelia Pond I hear?"

"Doctor," she continued, "I found this guy in a coma ward and he swears he knows who you are. Can I trust him? He gives off this strange Hannibal Lecter vibe-" There was the sound of another struggle followed by 'for heaven's sake I'll put it on speaker, Miss Pond', before her voice returned. "I just mean is he might be a lunatic who managed to steal a key, you know?"

Rose laughed. "Mycroft is our son, Amelia."

She scoffed. "You said your son was seven!"

"I also said it was an old picture," Rose said defensively.

"Mycroft, why were you in a coma ward?" the Doctor asked.

"I was left in a street, apparently. With amnesia. And a pocket watch."

The Doctor nodded grimly. "That makes sense. More Timelord technology, the Master would have access to it all, and losing your memory would get you comfortably out of the way of whatever their planning."

"The Master? He's involved in this?"

"Must be. You never saw him?"

"I can't remember much after the first call he forced me to make to Sherlock. He made me leave an outgoing voicemail to make it appear nothing was wrong, I tried to slip as many clues in as I could. He made a joke about someone being 'extremely hard to kill,' so I assumed Jack might have some answers. He kept me for at least a few days."

"But why?" Rose asked. "If they just needed to erase your memory why keep you?"

Mycroft paused. "Well...Information, Mother."

She didn't seem to understand for a moment, then rage blossomed over her face. "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing that I couldn't live through, obviously."

"I'm going to kill them both," she said solemnly. There wasn't a soul in the room who doubted her.

"What did you tell them?" Sherlock asked.

They heard him sigh. "Names. I remember being asked for names of certain government and military officials, and the details about their lives that I remembered. I did not hear much, but I remember hearing about a hotel in Bayswater."

"Then that's where we're going," the Doctor nodded. "Where are you, Mycroft? I'll come pick you up."

"Don't worry about me, we'll be in London in a few hours. Get to the area and see if you can find them." There were some sounds of protesting from Amy, but the he ended the call.

"We're a hundred percent at your service, Sir," Jack said with a salute to the Doctor.

"Good, because we have no idea which hotel to start with. Everyone in the TARDIS, we've got some work to do."

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They mostly paired off into twos to start their scouring of Bayswater and the surrounding areas, but Rose had insisted she wasn't letting her son out of her sight again, and it wasn't questioned that John would be with Sherlock. The night was just starting to turn into twilight, and the cool morning air nipped at the four of them.

Rose was bundled warmly in Sherlock's long black coat, which he insisted he didn't need as temperature rarely bothered him. She deliberately walked a bit slowly as she took his arm so that they dropped behind the other two. "So," she whispered, "have you given any thought to my suggestion about John?"

"You mean your ultimatum," he stated flatly. "Yes. I've already told him, so there's no need for whatever intervention you're secretly planning."

She stared at him with a disbelieving grin. "You actually told him? What did he say?"

"Nothing."

Her face dropped. "What? Nothing?"

"That's what I said."

Her jaw set and she started to pick up speed. "I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!"

"No," he said quickly, catching her. "He didn't...I mean he didn't really have time to say much."

"Why not?"

He gestured to the Doctor's back. "You two showed up."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sherlock. Do you think you'll talk to him again?"
"Rose?" the Doctor called suddenly. "Let's try this little inn. Sherlock, why don't you and John go check out the one down the street?"

Sherlock just nodded and caught up with them, and he and John headed down the way. Rose took the Doctor's hand as she fell into step beside him. "Could you hear us?" she asked.

"Yes," he admitted. "I don't believe John could though. Maybe if we just send them off on their own they'll work this out."

"I certainly hope so," she sighed.

If Sherlock saw through his parent's attempt to get them alone together he made no indication of it. The moment they were alone together, however, they were both very aware of how quiet it had become. The walk towards the unassuming little hotel was a short one, but it felt as though they were walking there through thick sand. After a long moment John finally cleared his throat. "It's been a long, strange night, eh?"

Sherlock let out a deep chuckle. "I suppose."

"I can't wait to get through this and sleep in my own bed for again. After we've stopped Moriarty of course."

Sherlock paused. "You will be coming back to the flat, then?"

"Of course I am," John nodded. There was a pause. Finally, he added, "We should talk, though. When we get home, I mean."

Sherlock nodded like a man being handed his death sentence.

"You mentioned before that you thought I would move out. To be clear, I'm not going to."

"Oh," he said simply, pulling open the door for the shorter man.

"Just, I don't want you thinking that's what this is about. I think it's-"

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

They'd entered the small lobby and a young man with glasses stood behind the reception desk, eyeing them warily. John smiled at the man, glancing at his nametag. "Hello, David. We have some questions for you."

"Oh," the man breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you were another military man. We're already booked solid."

John smirked and pulled his identification out of his pocket. "Captain John watson, actually."

"Oh," his face fell. "I'm sorry, Sir, but as I said, I don't believe I can fit you in. There are no available rooms left. However, if you can find other lodgings we can arrange transportation for you back for the meeting in the morning."

"What meeting?" Sherlock asked. "I mean, yes, we're here for it of course. What time will this meeting be held?"

Heavy footsteps came down the stairs, and when they all turned they saw a tall man, a lieutenant by the look of his uniform. The man stared at them blankly, as if there was nothing behind his eyes. The hairs on the back of Sherlock's neck stood up. He immediately pulled out his phone and subtly texted his mother 'SOS'.

David let out a sigh of relief, seemingly blind to the Lieutenant's strangeness. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Captain Watson needs to know when the meeting is in the morning. Can you help him?"

The man blinked once, taking a long time to answer. "Yes." He turned and walked back up the stairs without another word.

"Sir?" David asked in nervous confusion, but the man did not turn around. He disappeared around the corner, heading toward the guests' rooms.

The Doctor and Rose were at the door in moments, a bit out of breath from running. Sherlock gave his father a slight nod and tilted his head towards the stairs. The Doctor nodded and pulled his psychic paper from his jacket. He held it up towards the flustered desk clerk. "Special Police, we need you to vacate the area."

David frowned. "The hotel is full, if we have to start evacuation procedures-"

"Just you," Sherlock said, quickly pushing the confused man toward the door.

"Captain Watson?" A voice from the stairs asked. The lieutenant was back.

John turned his head. "Yes?"

The lieutenant pulled a pistol from his jacket.

There was very little time to act. Rose screamed when she saw the gun, and David ran from the building. The Doctor grabbed John, jerking him to the side, behind him, as the gun fired. Sherlock was up the stairs in an instant, wrestling the gun from the man and slamming it into the side of his head, dropping him. He turned, praying to the universe that John hadn't been hit, not now, not just when they finally-

John was standing very still, staring at the Doctor. Blood was beginning to spread across the alien's chest.

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"Why?" the Master shouted at his young accomplice.

James Moriarty winced again. His nerves were already frayed from Lieutenant Bohn informing him that Sherlock's little friend was downstairs asking questions, and the old man wasn't helping. He ignored the Timelord's question as he gathered together every weapon he'd brought with him. He was fairly confident his new soldiers would deal with the intruders in the lobby, but on the off chance they made it upstairs he was going to be ready.

"Answer me, Boy! If Sherlock Holmes is trapped beneath Torchwood, how is his companion in the building at this very moment?"

"We don't know for sure Sherlock is here," James replied calmly. "For all we know it's not even the real John Watson."

"Do we or do we not have confirmation that he is safe?" the Master barked.

"Enough!" James roared. He turned and gave the chair a hard shove, and the Master spilled out onto the floor. "I've had enough of you! I don't care where Sherlock is right now. He can't stop what we've set in motion. I'll save him for later."

The Master glared up at him. "If you harm him you'll never get another word out of me."

"Good," James said flatly. He lifted the revolver in his hand and shot the old man without a moment of hesitation. Phase three was starting immediately, Timelords be damned.

He called out for assistance and two Majors appeared at his doorstep, saluting. "Clean up this mess," he order, gesturing to the dying alien on the floor.

The Master knew he was fading fast. There was nothing left in him, no more chances at life. Strong hands grabbed him and dragged him away as though he were a bag of garbage, finally to be disposed of. 'Not like this,' he thought. 'After all I've done, the things I've seen, don't let me die like this.'

That was when he felt it. Regeneration energy. Not his own, but from a powerful source somewhere nearby. He latched onto the excess, not bothering to second guess where it might be coming from. If there was enough being released into the air then perhaps, just maybe, he could use it himself. Every cell in his body began to vibrate. He smiled.

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The Doctor collapsed. John was on him in a second, trying to hold in the blood with his jacket. "Oh God!" he cried. "Sherlock, pressure, here, now!"

Sherlock snapped out of his daze and ran to them, holding the cloth tightly to the wound.

"Sherl...Sherlock…" the Doctor sputtered out, his face going pale. "TARDIS…"

John started ripping his shirt into strips to make a bandage, but his face was grave. "He was shot through the heart," he stammered. "I don't know how he's even alive!"

"He has two," Sherlock explained. "The other one is trying to compensate for the loss."

Then there was Rose, leaning between them, grabbing at the Doctor's face while she wailed. Already a hint of golden light seemed to shine through his pores. "No," she gathered up the lapel of his suit, "Doctor, don't."

"Rose," he coughed a bit. "TARDIS. You know…What happens."

Rose bit back her sobs and nodded resolutely. "Sherlock, help me carry him."

John balked at her. "He's in no condition to be moved. He could die."

Rose stared into her son's eyes and for the first time John saw the true fear of the unknown shine through the detective's face. "This is...He's going to…?"

"Yes. We have to move him, now. It's not safe here, there could be more of them upstairs. He can only hold it back so long."

"Sherlock, what's she talking about?" John asked.

Sherlock had gone white. He wordlessly stood up and lifted the Doctor up by his shoulders. The Timelord cried out in pain and John jumped to his feet. "I said we can't move him, he'll die!"

"He's dying anyway!" Sherlock shouted back. "Grab his feet, quickly John."

John reluctantly took the thin man's legs and helped redistribute his weight. Rose called for them to follow her and they ran, running through the chilly air down the alley they'd parked the ship in. She made it to the TARDIS first and held the door open. They eased the dying man down onto the pilot's seat, and then heard him croak out another word.

"H...home."

Rose stared at him, placing a gentle hand on the cheek she was going to miss. "What? We're here, we're in the TARDIS."

"I want...to be home. Sherlock, please."

Sherlock nodded and stepped up to the controls. "Any time period where it is likely to be empty?"

"We avoided the seventies...for a safety net," the Doctor nodded painfully, looking into Rose's eyes. "That...and to avoid bell-bottoms."

Rose smiled in spite of herself, taking hold of the man's hand. John watched in fascination as Sherlock operated the machine with the grace of someone repeating a task for the thousandth time. He heard the familiar screech, and then the TARDIS was landing.

"I've broken the rules and parked in the living room," Sherlock said, helping his mother pull the Doctor to his feet. "I thought it was best not to walk far."

John had no idea where they were. It looked like a normal, modern home, complete with furnishings and a lived-in feeling. The fruit on the table was still fresh, the lights were all on for them, but he still felt as if he was entering a house that had long since been empty. They went to set the Doctor on the couch, but he waved their hands away, choosing to lie on the carpet.

"I like that couch," he mumbled. "Don't want to ruin it." His breaths continued to get raspier, and John knew the sheer amount of blood flowing from him wouldn't have even fit inside a human's vascular system.

"Do we...should we do something?" Sherlock whispered to his mother. "How can we help him?"

She patted Sherlock's arm sadly, and then leaned down close to her husband. She pressed her lips against his gently, and despite the pain movement caused him he brought one hand up to cradle her face.

"You know what happens next."

She nodded. "I remember."

"Still me, Rose. Don't forget. Still me."

"I know," she said, sobbing quietly.

"Besides," he croaked out, "sixty years of this daft old face? It's about time you trade me in for a new model."

She forced a laugh through her tears. "Promise you won't have two heads. I couldn't take the snoring."

He smiled, and pressed his lips against hers one more time. He looked over her shoulder and smiled weakly at his son. "Sherlock, don't be afraid."

"I-I'm not," Sherlock lied, clearly shaken.

"And John?" the Timelord said, beckoning him a little closer.

John stepped forward awkwardly. "Yes?"

The Doctor smiled at him. "I'd do it again. I just wanted you to hear that from me, before-" the Doctor gasped, back arching while a strange golden glow started to shine from his face. "Everyone back!"

Rose scrambled away. Sherlock grabbed John's shoulder and pulled him back from the glowing alien. The light around him grew and seemed to stream from his face and hands like fire. It felt like it lasted forever, but when John looked back on it later he thought the whole ordeal took maybe twenty seconds. Then the glow was gone, and so was the Doctor.

John blinked, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. Where the Doctor had been lying there was now a new man in his clothing. He was young, maybe thirty or so with slightly shaggy dark hair and wide eyes. He sat up, hands feeling at his face. Those new eyes searched until they found Rose, and then he smiled lopsidedly.

"Well," he said, a bit out of breath. "Don't leave me in suspense, Love. How'd I turn out?"

"Not ginger," she said carefully. She smiled a bit but did not move closer. He stood and reached a hand out to her, and she took it hesitantly.

"Still me," he said to her quietly, almost whispering.

She nodded sadly.

He placed a finger under her chin and made her look up at him. "This morning I couldn't find my reading glasses. I spent an hour looking for them before you pointed out I left them in my jacket pocket, the one I was already wearing. You laughed and called me a silly old man, and then we made pancakes. I love you. Still me."

Her smile grew a little. She pressed her lips against his experimentally, experiencing the differences and finding the similarities. "Still you."

He pulled her into a tight embrace and nodded to Sherlock. "Doing alright? Bit shocking the first time."

"I know you…" Sherlock muttered. "I mean, obviously, but I've seen that face before. On the planet Moira, when we went camping."

"Careful, Sherlock," the man warned him. "Spoilers."

"You were wearing the most awful outfit with a bowtie."

"Oh," the new Doctor said with raised eyebrows. "Really? I hadn't considered that before. I haven't worn a bowtie in ages."

"Let's keep it that way," Rose grimaced.

"No can do," he grinned at her. "Sherlock said it, and now I have to do it, or it'd cause a paradox. Ha, get it? There'll be two of us on planet Moira at the same time, a pair o' Docs."

"Oh, fantastic, this one makes puns," Sherlock huffed.

John threw his hands in the air. "Excuse me, what the bloody hell is happening!"