Oh, lawd, this chapter is so short and I'm so sorry. This is, literally, the shortest thing I think I've ever written, and it's shameful. I've just got exams to study for at the moment, and uni is taking up more of my time than it usually does. The next chapter will be better (and longer), I promise. Don't hate me.
3.
Slowly, tentatively and a little fearfully, The Doctor made his way towards the TARDIS doors. Before he reached them, however, he noticed the frightful cold that had taken over the TARDIS and his thoughts immediately went to the Dream-Lord. He shook his head. No, there hadn't been any birds or any feeling of immense tiredness like there had been the last time. He willed himself not to give into the thought that it could possibly be the Master. But, at the same time, he couldn't deny the sheer power that it would've taken to shut off the TARDIS like this. He, once again, used his Sonic to guide himself to the door. "I'm not afraid of the dark." He muttered to himself, listening intently for the sound of drumming. "But I am afraid of what's in it."
Sherlock backed away from the Police Box. His eyes flitted around the room, before he turned to glace out of the windows. His eyes then narrowed at the sky which had, rather quickly, turned a murky grey colour and the rain was now belting down menacingly.
"J-John?" He called again, but to no avail. He attempted once, twice, three times to ring John, but the phone lines must've been down due to the impending storm. "I'm not afraid of the dark." He scolded himself, unable to contain a little jump as a crash of thunder and a flash of lightning filled the sky and illuminated the flat. His eyes, once again, darted to the shadows, which were spreading through the flat in the most sinister of fashions. Sherlock looked to the Police Box again before lowering his voice dangerously at it. "What the hell are you?"
"Vashta Nerada." The Doctor mumbled, glancing around the utter blackness. "An infestation of Vashta Nerada." He decided. Not the Dream-Lord, not the more probable conclusion of the Master. The Vashta Nerada; he could handle. "Right!" He nodded to himself, throwing his Sonic up into the air and catching it expertly as it landed; despite the darkness. "Let's-" He put his hand on the TARDIS door handle. "Go?" His eyes widened as he realised that the stone had spread to the door. He soniced it a few times before an even bigger realisation hit him.
He was trapped.
Sherlock tried John's phone again, but there wasn't even a dial tone at this point. The storm was really picking up outside, flinging lose bits of chip-paper and leaves and other meaningless objects against the windows. The lights weren't working anymore either, and Sherlock had used any candles he owned in random experiments a long time ago.
"Mrs. Hudson!" He called, grabbing his coat and scarf. "I'm going out!"
"In this weather, love?" A voice asked, though he couldn't quite place what direction it had come from.
"I need to find John!" He called back again, placing his hand on the door. Suddenly, though, a realisation dawned on him and he stood bolt-upright with apprehension.
Today was the first Tuesday of the month. Every first Tuesday of a month, Mrs. Hudson would visit her niece in Chiswick. Sherlock had waved her goodbye this morning.
Mrs. Hudson wasn't even there.
Gah, please don't hate me too much. The next chapter will be less suckish-campers' honour.