The first thing John saw was that they were flying. Whatever the hell they were, they were definitely hovering five meters above the street, level with their flat window. For some reason, John's brain immediately compared them to salt shakers.
"Sherlock," he murmured to his friend, "Sherlock, what are those?"
Instead, he was answered by the Doctor, "Daleks."
Sherlock let out a breath of frustration at John's right "The things that killed your friend. I suppose you're looking for vengeance now?"
"Actually, no," the Doctor said, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Sherlock, "Yes, I do have a certain need for revenge against the Daleks, but it was my fault I lost Rose. She didn't die, mind you." John knew that the Doctor had to have a good reason for the pure hatred that was chiseled into his features, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know it. It wasn't long before his pleasurable ignorance was shattered. "They've wiped out civilizations, millions of them. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be the last of my kind."
"The last of your kind?!" John interjected. "What the hell does that mean?"
But the Doctor wasn't listening. His face had left behind the expression of loathing, and was now contorted into one of petrified fear. "Ponds…" he whispered, snatching his tweed jacket off of the armchair and running out the door, down the stairs, and out into the street. After a glance at each other, Sherlock and John darted out after him, tugging their coats over their shoulders.
"Doctor!" Sherlock yelled as he tugged John through the crowd of screaming, panicking people.
"Doctor, wait!" John said, watching the man slow to a stop, glancing down streets in a frenzy. "Doctor" he puffed again as they reached him, "you can't go out in this, it's suicide! What were you thinking?!" he said, jumping to narrowly avoid a shot from a Daleks eyestalk
The Doctor looked at him with wild eyes, "the Ponds, John, they went to the shops without me. They are alone right now, with no one to protect them. I'm supposed to protect them. I cant lose any more of them."
"who? The Ponds?"
"my friends, Sherlock, I can't bear to lose any more of my friends." He shouted looking frantically in a circle.
"Well," John shouted back over the noise "if you want shops, there's a Tesco's down the block."
The Doctor grinned "Excellent!"
The Doctor had never felt quite as terrified as he did now. His hearts were pounding out of his chest, and he was pretty sure he wasn't even beginning to fool Sherlock and John that he was anywhere near alright. He was already broken from losing Rose, already shattered from making Donna forget. His heart and soul had been rubbed raw through losing friends, family, and lovers. He wasn't sure if he could live through losing his Ponds. The ponds, with Rory and his unbiased loyalty toward Amy, Amy, with her red hair… wait! Was that them? His Ponds, fighting against the crowd? A sandy haired man and a bright, shimmering head of red hair? Yes!
"Ponds!" he shouted, trying to turn their attention. "Ponds!" he called yet again, this time grabbing Amy's attention, who nudged her husband on the arm, pointing at the Doctor over the crowd. Rory's face automatically took on a look of gigantic relief.
"Is that them?" John shouted, tugging Sherlock behind him.
The Doctor nodded "in the flesh!" Pretty soon, Amy was squeezing him, Rory was laughing nervously-probably out of shock- John and Sherlock stood on the sides, watching.
"Who's this?" Amy asked, pulling back and looking at Sherlock and John. When the Doctor didn't answer, she raised her eyebrows "Doctor… who are these people?"
He swallowed, glancing at his new friends, "Ahh… um.. what would do, Amelia, if I told you that these are ,ah, the famous Doctor Watson and Sherlock Holmes?"
Amy smiled at him with the sweetest, most fake smile she could muster "Probably kill you, Why?"
"Ah, well, then I shan't tell you."
So to say, if looks could kill, He would be lying on the floor, bleeding out his skull. Amy turned to Sherlock and John "I am so sorry gentlemen, my friend, well, you could say he has a few screws loose."
Sherlock smirked, "Actually, Miss Pond, we already become quite accustomed to the Doctor."
Amy looked shocked.
"Miss Amelia Pond. Former Kissagram. The Doctor was your escape from reality and responsibility. You're married to the man on you right, although, he does carry a huge amount of jealously for the doctor. You had reservations about marrying him, which has him set on edge." Sherlock turned to Rory, "you are Rory Pond, from what I understand. Nurse, from the smell of antiseptic still on your clothes. Quiet. Slightly afraid of your wife. Both of you are close friends of the Doctor's."
Rory looked ready to punch him.
Hey you guys! Thank you so much for following this story! This is probably my favorite out of my stories. I apologize for not updating sooner (since it has been forever and a year since I last glanced at it) and I really don't have an excuse. I going to try to update once every two weeks, but it will be hard, since currently, my whole family is working off my dad's computer, since mine crashed (for like the fifth time this month). When we get a new one, I expect my updates to go much faster. Please keep reading, I understand it is really annoying when fan fictions don't update. Thanks again! Review!
Dean: she does understand no one reads author's notes, doesn't she?
Amy: she's allowed to make her own decisions. Who the hell are you anyway?
Dean: no one. Anyway, she hasn't even put me in the story yet.
Sam: no, she hasn't.
Dean: Shit
Sam: yeah, Shit, c'mon, we're going home.
Dean: WINGEDARTISTDOESNOTOWNSUPENARTURAaaaaaaa….
Amy: and no one has any idea where he comes from?
Doctor: no idea. Whatsoever. Maybe.
Amy: right.
Doctor: anyway, wing-
Me: ED ARTIST DOES NOT OWN ANYTHING WHAT SO EVER, SHE IS BROKE AND HAS NO LIFE.
Doctor: exactly.