Part four of the prompt: The Doctor turns up at odd points in Sherlock's life,
This one is my favourite from House Calls so far...It's a little bit sad however...
House Calls: PART FOUR:
It is eight years later when Sherlock sees the Doctor again. Eight years and 4 psychoanalysts later. Two of whom he made cry. They had all considered the dark haired boy with a mixture of cynicism and apprehension. They wouldn't believe him, but couldn't understand him.
It had come to the point in Sherlock's life where he was preparing to leave home. To go to university. For the first time he would be free, completely in control of his life. Free from advice from Mycroft, and Mother's fussing, and Father's stern looks. Independence.
He was terrified.
It was his last night before moving out. His childhood bedroom stripped of his essentials felt cold and sterile, things he didn't intend to take with him having been packed away as well as his luggage. All of it stood around his familiar bed in boxes.
He was a ball of gangly, panicking limbs when he heard the noise. The same noise the blue box, the TARDIS, had made when The Doctor had saved him from Sedgwick and his gang all those years ago. The unmistakable whir of the machine had haunted Sherlock's dreams, both sleeping and waking for eight years.
Sherlock stalked out of bed, remembering the words The Doctor had said as he'd dropped him back into the safety of his bedroom, having been in school mere moments beforehand.
"I'll be back Sherlock. I'm not sure when, or even what I'll look like, but I'll be back."
And there it was. The TARDIS, in all it's archaic glory. Sat quietly in the garden, for all the world looking as if the gardener had gone a little insane.
He didn't run. Didn't rush to go to it, to The Doctor. All those years without him turning up had taught him that when he did, he would wait. Because The Doctor knew when Sherlock needed him. And that was now.
He padded barefoot across the dewy grass, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of the spongy soil beneath. The crisp cool quality of the air calmed him. He felt an overwhelming calm. Stood looking at the blue box in the middle of a cool summer night. It felt right. If he had his way it would be the last time in a while Sherlock's feet would be on terra firma.
He merely stood and looked at the TARDIS. And the door opened. Out stepped The Doctor. He hadn't even changed clothes since the last time Sherlock has seen him. He looked at Sherlock pensively.
"You came back." Sherlock began.
"I said I would." The Doctor looked him up and down before continuing, "I never get used to people aging around me."
Sherlock grinned at the sentiment, and at the grumpy look on The Doctor's face. It was when his expression smoothed out and he fixed Sherlock in his gaze that Sherlock could see how old The Doctor truly was. Old and tired.
"So what's new?" The Doctor said gamely, not wholly masking his sadness.
Sherlock shrugged, hands in pockets and eyes wandering to glance behind The Doctor to the interior beyond hungrily, before fixing him with a stare.
"I want to come with you."
The Doctor's eyebrows shot up in questioning, and Sherlock cut across him before he could form words.
"You've forgotten what we humans go through Doctor. You turn up here after eight years, eight years for me not you, in the same clothes no less. And you forget that we continue our lives when you're not there, that we live when you're not there. It's been seconds for you, and yes I've aged. I've grown up and I've decided I want the adventure. I want to come with you and see the universe."
He took a breath, The Doctor said nothing.
"I don't want to stay here. They don't understand. And I don't think they ever will." He paused, and looked at the grass around his feet
"I want to come with you."
Silence.
"No."
Sherlock's head shot up. He had thought it through, practiced the speech, known every point to hit to get what he wanted- and had failed.
"No?"
"No Sherlock. I can't risk taking you with me. I've had enough of-" The Doctor cut off, he couldn't say the words. Not to a teenager.
I've had enough of people dying.
"You're too young-"
"I'm eighteen-"
"And about to leave home for the first time." The Doctor concluded. Sherlock said nothing. He should have known that The Doctor would sense his fear. "It's something you need to do, Sherlock."
Sherlock nodded solemnly. And began to turn back into the house when a thought struck him.
"If you're not here to take me away, why are you here?"
The Doctor smiled and offered Sherlock a handshake.
"To wish you luck."