Author's Note: Hey Readers, thanks for reading! Please remember, I do not claim all of the original ideas in this story, it is more so a collaboration of Wholock "head-canons" that have been spreading around. There might be grammar/spelling errors, because I don't have a beta for this story yet. If you want to be my beta, send me a message. We can work something out. Thanks again!
One evening at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes, in his dressing gown, contently played violin near the window. Meanwhile, the detective's dearest friend, Dr. Watson sat in his favorite chair and read the paper.
Suddenly, Mr. Holmes heard a hauntingly familiar sound in the distance. He put down his instrument and turned to look at the door.
John didn't look up from his paper, but he mumbled, "What's the matter Sherlock?"
The detective replied, "Nothing, just . . . did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That odd noise. There it is again."
"I don't know what you're talking about Sherlock." Dr. Watson returned his focus to his paper.
Sherlock went back to his music for a moment, but banging footsteps, coming quickly up the stairs, interrupted him. Without looking back at the door, he asked, "Mrs. Hudson, would you please quiet down?"
"Mrs. Hudson?" asked a familiar voice.
John looked up from his paper. The detective turned around; this was the impossible man from the blue box. He stared at intruder, stunned. The odd alien didn't look any older than the day they first met, now more than three decades ago. Of course, bloody time travel. He thought. A lean, redheaded woman and an awkward-looking man stood beside the extraterrestrial.
"Are you Sherlock Holmes?" The alien asked.
"Yes, but didn't you already know that? Last time we met . . . you knew my name," The confused genius blurted. (John still sat in his chair, flabbergasted by the odd man and his two dorky companions, who were covered in green slime.)
"Oh, well, you know who I am. Time-travel really does fumble some things. At this point, I've never met you, and I'm here to ask for your help, actually," He explained.
"No, actually I don't know much about you at all. I don't even know your name, or what species of extraterrestrial you are. We met once, but it was brief. You gave me a gift," Sherlock added, discreetly looking toward the skull on the mantel.
"I'm The Doctor, a time lord," the alien confirmed, "And these are my dear friends Amy and Rory Pond."
"Amy and Rory Williams," Rory attempted to correct The Doctor, but both geniuses brushed his announcement aside. Amy hushed her husband, patting his shoulder. He jumped as she added even more green, sticky guck to the already extensive collection covering his clothing.
John interrupted, "Wait… so you're saying, that I'm supposed to believe this guy is an alien you met in your past, but he's never met you before, because of time travel?"
Both brains turned to John. Sherlock begged, "Yes John, really do try and keep up." That shut down Dr. Watson. He turned to The Doctor. "So, I assume whatever you need my help with, it's not something native to earth, and it gives off some sort of green residue?" He gestured to the stuff covering Amy and Rory.
The Doctor chuckled, "Of course Mr. Holmes . . ."
The detective interjected, "Call me Sherlock, please."
The other continued with his typical emphasis, "Oh yes, Sherlock, of course. Well, at any rate, I'm desperate to hunt down this huge, green, goo monster. I hear you're the best detective in this dimension. So, would you and John like to join us for an adventure?" He gestured toward Amy and Rory when he said 'us'.
"Hmm, well I'd have to think about it . . ." Sherlock responded.
Watson jumped up from his chair, "He'll take the case!"
The detective begged, "What are you doing John?"
John replied, "I'm tired of listening to you whine about how boring all your cases have been lately. Let's try something a bit beyond earth for a change!"
The Doctor clapped his hands together excitedly and childishly declared, "That settles it then! You'll help me find the monster!" He dashed out the door, "Geronimo!"
Within the next few hours, Sherlock had easily tracked down the mysterious monster. The detective, with the help of the Doctor, identified the extraterrestrial and sent it packing, back off to some planet where it belonged, all before nightfall.
All seemed well, but then Sherlock received a phone call from John. He'd been with Rory and Amy, investigating a lead of some disturbance on the other side of the city. Over the phone line he mumbled, "Great, I'm happy you found this stupid alien, but more important stuff is happening in London right now. These things, these . . . angels . . . they did something to Amy and Rory, and now I can't find them anywhere. Also, some woman, she calls herself River, I think. Well, she says she knows how to deal with these moving statues and she's calling them 'Weeping Angels'. She wants to see the Doctor."
Sherlock relayed the phone message to his new friend, who gasped. He hadn't seen the weeping angels in a very long time. He declared, "We have to get over there, now!"
The detective agreed, and they hopped in a cab. When they arrived at John's specified location, a park on the outskirts, they found John, a bit shaken but not scared, and River, who wasn't the least bit phased. Weeping Angels surrounded them. The Doctor leaned over to Sherlock and whispered, "Don't move any closer to them, and whatever you do… Don't blink."
Author's Note: Sorry the end was rushed; I WAS IN A TIME CRUNCH TO PUBLISH BEFORE BAND CAMP!