Hello, welcome to chapter two, in which our lovely pair (ten and Rose) meets another loveable (or not so) pair; Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson. And, fun fact, did you know there is actually a theatre company called Bad Wolf? It's true.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Sherlock, BBC or even this plotline because everything I write belongs to . I don't even own a TARDIS though I wish I did, that would be pretty epic.

Anyways, enjoy!

…

The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors to bright sunlight and the noise of people and cars. Rose stepped out behind him. They were in a surprisingly sunny alleyway.

"Where and when are we?" She asked, smiling. The Doctor was glad to see her in a good mood.

"London, Earth. 2010, if I'm correct. It's a Wednesday, hmm, I don't care for Wednesdays, but, they're better than Sundays." The Doctor replied, mumbling to himself about days of the week.

"So we're in the near future, and close-ish to where I'm from?" She summarized, grinning. The Doctor smiled and took her hand.

"Yes. Come on now, let's go and live a little!" The Doctor finished with a shout. He started to pull his blonde companion down the alley and towards the street and the people.

"So living in a time and space traveling machine, saving people, and facing aliens isn't living?" Rose teased. The Doctor frowned and looked at her.

"Well-," the Doctor started, but he was cut off be a shrill scream. The Doctor whirled around and, still holding Rose's hand, started running, dragging her with him towards the source of the scream.

…

Meanwhile, John Watson was currently at the clinic when none other than Sherlock Holmes decided to summon him. 'Come to the flat immediately, we have a situation. SH." It read. John sighed and gathered his things.

"Let's see what this is about." He grumbled.

…

When John arrived back at the flat, he found Sherlock, Detective Inspector Lestrade, and more agents seated in the sitting room, seemingly discussing something important.

"What's going on here?" John asked, not sure what was happening.

"There has been a murder and they'd like us to investigate with them." Sherlock answered, smiling slightly. "The witness, or not so, is at the crime scene now, and I was waiting for you before I headed off." Sherlock finished.

John nodded, and the whole party headed for the crime scene.

…

The Doctor and Rose, having heard the scream, were already at the scene of the crime. The Doctor used the psychic paper to convince the cops that they were inspectors Smith and Lewis from Scotland Yard sent to investigate.

Someone led them to the room where the body remained. There was an obviously dead man leaning against the wall. The corpse was wearing trousers, a button-up shirt, and trainers. His head was gone, as if it was torn off, and Rose turned her head, disgusted. The Doctor, however, leaned in closer to the body, frowning.

The neck of the victim was streaked with blood, thin lines of it, now dried, painted onto the flesh.

Finally working up the courage to look again, Rose joined the Doctor. That's when she noticed something. She lifted the dead man's hands and showed them to the Doctor. The fingertips had been burned off, and only blackened nubs were left.

"Someone didn't want anyone to know who this was. Very clever." The Doctor said. "I'm sorry." He whispered to the murdered man, remorseful.

That's when three men came through the door. One was tall and had brown hair and a thin face. He strode in with an aura of confidence. The second was a slightly shorter man, with grey hair and a black coat, and the third had grey hair as well.

"Ah, hello. I am Sherlock Holmes, this is my partner, John Watson," the first man said, gesturing towards the second, "and that is Detective Inspector Lestrade."

The other man, John Watson, apparently, smiled grimly and nodded his head in greeting. The Detective Inspector frowned.

"Who are you, and who let you in?" He asked with an air of skepticism about him.

The Doctor brushed off the questions saying, "Do you have anyone who can find the identity of this man?" That's when John stepped around the Doctor and saw the body. He raised his eyebrows.

"Pretty awful, right?" asked a feminine voice. John turned his head to see a very pretty blonde girl staring sadly at the body.

"I've seen worse." John stated, his gaze returning to the corpse.

"So have I." The girl said, tilting her head to look at him. "I'm Rose, Rose Ty- Lewis." She corrected. John lifted an eyebrow. He didn't believe her.

"John Watson, pleased to meet you Miss 'Lewis'." He greeted disbelievingly. Rose smiled sheepishly. Then a thought came to her.

"Who screamed? We heard a scream and we came here to find the body, but where is the witness?" Rose inquired.

"Yeah. Sherlock, I thought you said the witness was here." agreed John, addressing the man who must be Sherlock.

"Right." The Doctor and Sherlock said in sync. They turned to look at each other.

"I'm here. I've been waiting." A soft voice stated. They all turned to look at the speaker. It was a girl who could be no older than fifteen. Her hair was wet, still dripping, perhaps from a bath or a shower.

"Do you know who this is?" Sherlock asked, striding over to the girl.

"Yes… that's my stepdad."

…

As it turns out, the girl's name was Evelyn Parish. The dead man, Alan Vernard, was her stepdad. Evelyn's mother, Jane Parish, had married him two years previously but had not taken the last name. She was currently in Spain as part of her job as a photographer.

At the time of the murder, Evelyn claimed to have been in the shower, which explained the wet hair.

She said Alan worked at an office a few blocks away. He had been home when she got there, and she had gone to take her shower. While in the shower, Evelyn said she heard nothing that implied that her stepfather's murder was happening. When she came finished her shower, she went looking for him to help her with her homework. She attended a local high school and was in her tenth year. She had arrived home late because she had taken an art class in the school. Evelyn showed all of the forms for proof, a permission slip, and even her homework.

Evelyn had shoulder length blonde hair, green eyes. She was of average height.

Jane Parish had been called and informed of what had happened. She would get on the next flight home and until she was home, Evelyn was to stay with her friend, Maddie Williams and Maddie's mother, Fey. Evelyn would miss school tomorrow and most likely the rest of the week. The school was called and the murder was put on the news.

Now all left to settle was finding the murderer. There was already a search, but until they found out who the killer was, there was no point in going to look for the person. Evelyn was a suspect. She had not given any proof to whom the murderer was, but she did have a strong alibis, so she was mostly left alone. All of the neighbors were suspects. They just needed to find the right one.

…

The Doctor studied the corpse carefully. He had a little help from a woman named Molly, not much from Rose (she didn't like being near bodies) and a run-in from the man, Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock, he discovered, was very good with deductions. From the clothes the body had previously worn, he had discovered that he wasn't rich, but bought nice clothes because he "probably worked somewhere nice, but not too nice." The Doctor scoffed at that, saying they could have learned that from Evelyn, but Sherlock reasoned she was a suspect, and thus could be lying. The Doctor couldn't disagree. He had also found out the man had gotten home around three, had eaten a small snack, the password to his mobile and that he had been planning to take someone, most likely Evelyn, to the cinema near seven. He had ranted on about how he knew that, but the Doctor hadn't had been listening.

Instead, he was studying the body. In the flesh of the neck, the Doctor dug out a small blood-stained claw.

"What have you got there?" Sherlock asked, craning his neck to see the object the Doctor was holding. Clearly, he didn't like not knowing something. So, much to Sherlock's agitation, the Doctor turned around slowly, slipped the claw into his pocket for later examination, and said, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Sherlock frowned, but didn't oppose the Doctor's words. Then, without a word, the Doctor strode to the door and exited, leaving Mr. Holmes alone with the body.

…

At around six in the afternoon Rose couldn't handle looking at the cadaver any longer. After she left the Doctor, she found John Watson once more. Purely coincidence. But, all the same, she had taken a quick liking to him. He seemed a good person, and, unlike the Doctor, didn't talk at ninety miles per hour and expect her to know everything. In fact, John seemed rather like her. The companions of great men. The followers. The sidekicks. Assistants, helpers, etc.… people they took on. It sounded crueler than it really was.

John Watson was eating at a local café. Rose, only wanting a bite to eat, walked in, unaware of his presence. She ordered her meal (chips, obviously) and waited for it to be called.

It was John, actually, who noticed her first. He walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. Rose turned around.

"Oh, hi… John, was it?" She asked. He nodded.

"Yes. And you are Rose, am I right?" He clarified. Rose smiled and nodded.

"Would you like to sit with me?" John offered, motioning towards his booth.

"I was going to… you know what? Sure, I'll come eat with you." She replied, grinning broadly. Rose walked over towards John's booth and sat down on the side opposite of where he was sitting. He had a half-eaten sandwich on a plate in front of him, but he did not pick it up yet.

"So, Rose, why do you tell people that your last name is Lewis?" John asked, smirking when she froze, her eyes widening, clearly unsure how to answer. Whatever Rose had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. Rose was silent for a few moments, uncertain of what to say when she was saved from answering due to her name being called for her order. She abruptly stood up and briskly strode over to the counter to receive her chips.

She sat back at John's booth, but changed the subject of conversation to something more fitting and less dangerous.

…

The Doctor, meanwhile, walked back to the TARDIS, still parked in the alleyway, and, looking around, unlocked the door and went inside.

"Let's see what we've got here." He said, taking the claw he had found out of his pocket.

In the med bay, the Doctor ran a few tests on it. The DNA analysis was still working on identifying the owner of the claw. He was now completely convinced that the murderer was alien. Or, not human, rather, seeing as he was technically an alien to the human race as well.

The DNA scan completed and the Doctor went to look at the results. What he saw frightened him.

"But you've been dead for centuries…"

…

A few miles away, a figure crept through the dark streets, beady eyes landing on its next victim. It had been tracking this human all day, through buildings and streets, and, now, a deserted alley, cloaked in the darkness of nighttime, perfect for the murder finally about to take place.

…

Thanks for reading this, if you are. Sorry about posting this so late, I'm not so reliable with that. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this story.

Oh, by the way, you see the box down there. Either one of 'em? There is the like button (wink, wink) and the review box (nudge, nudge). See what I'm hinting?