((AN: Thanks to the several people who've read/reviewed/subscribed to this story already! I hadn't expected it to get much attention. Again, I don't own any of the characters or concepts from the shows Doctor Who or Sherlock.))

TEXT FROM: JOHN WATSON
04:09
sherlock where the BLOODY HELL AM I AND WHY AM I STRAPPED INTO MY BED

TEXT FROM: SHERLOCK HOLMES
04:10
This is the Doctor. Sherlock's in the library. He left his phone here. I'll come get you out.

TEXT FROM: JOHN WATSON
04:10
WHAT IS GOING ON

TEXT FROM: SHERLOCK HOLMES
04:11
You're in the TARDIS, my spaceship, the one that crashed into your flat.

TEXT FROM: SHERLOCK HOLMES
04:11
I materialized around your bed. Strapping you in was Sherlock's idea.

TEXT FROM: SHERLOCK HOLMES
04:12
Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't wake up before now. Traveling between universes is extremely turbulent.

TEXT FROM: JOHN WATSON
04:12
WHAT

"Blimey, he did say you were going to be difficult," remarked the Doctor, unstrapping the fuming John from his bed. It wasn't easy, considering the TARDIS had materialized him into the wardrobe, right underneath a rack of River's dresses — the Doctor had protested when she brought them in, but well, River was River. Once he was freed, John demanded he be told in full what had gone on.

After Sherlock had convinced the Doctor that he (and, by extension, John) should come along, the Doctor had decided to show off his maneuvering skills by picking John up, bed and all. It only took two tries — the first time, he got the dresser, and landed it in the swimming pool — but he was able to manage it.

Sherlock hadn't said much at all while he was in the TARDIS, except to ask the Doctor to let him fly it (he said no), and to reassure John that no, this was not an alien abduction, yes, they were perfectly safe, and yes, of course it was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. He had found the library very quickly, and upon the Doctor's recommendation, had started thumbing through a collection by some author named Doyle.

"Alright, Johnny boy! Let's have a look at a new universe, shall we?" The Doctor jumped up from behind the console, pulling John to his feet from where he had been sitting, and threw the doors open. "The Milky Way! From the outside. Pretty close to home, well, as close as you can get in a parallel universe. We'll be on Earth in, ooh, about five minutes."

"So you're just taking us back home?" John asked, curious in spite of his frustration at not having any say about going.

"I suppose you could call it that," the Doctor replied, turning back to the console to adjust the controls.

John stood in the doorway for a few moments more, gazing at the admittedly beautiful view before him. Then, a grin coming to his face, he turned to the Doctor and remarked, "You know, Sherlock doesn't even care to know that the Earth goes round the Sun. Why would he ever want to go flying across the universe in a box?"

The Doctor smiled, but gave no answer. John turned back to the doors, looking out one more time before shutting them. As he did so, the TARDIS lurched, sending both of them sprawling. John clung to the railing, thinking to himself that he was glad he'd been asleep earlier during the "extremely turbulent" part of the flight, since this seemed to be standard procedure. He watched the Doctor leaping around the console until the ship settled to a stop.

"Are we here then?" John ventured.

"Yep. Baker Street, London. My London. Well, it's not mine, I'm not even from Earth, none of them, not even the New New one, did meet some lovely cats there though–"

At this moment, Sherlock interrupted, appearing from the doorway behind them. "Have you ever considered anchoring those shelves down, Doctor?" he asked, smiling very unconvincingly.

John spotted the slight limp in his left leg instantly — for all Sherlock's excellence at masking the few emotions he did have, he was terrible at hiding injuries. He insisted he was fine, but John wouldn't take it. The Doctor directed him to the medbay, or at least where it was last he knew, grinning as he watched them bicker their way out of sight.

Just then, the Doctor's attention was caught by a ringing sound, coming from his jacket pocket. He fumbled for the phone, read the number displayed on the screen, then frowned and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Doctor! Good to hear your voice again."

"Jack? This is Martha's old phone. How'd you get the number?"

"Remember, Doctor, we had every phone in the country calling you back when the Earth got stolen. It wasn't hard for Torchwood to keep the number."

"Alright, fine, good point. How long's it been for you, anyway? A few months? Years?"

"Seven months. How about you?"

"One day."

"Donna?"

"Gone."

There was a pause.

"Doctor?"

No reply.

"It's the Cybermen, Doctor. Some of them slipped through the rift a couple weeks ago, and we think they've set up somewhere near London. We can't find them, though, none of our equipment can."

"Ohh, and I was having a good day, too… Where are you right now?"

"Driving, about forty minutes from London. We've set up a temporary base there. And by my readings, you're on … Baker Street?"

"Yeah, I was going to do a little sightseeing with Sherlock Holmes, and the TARDIS needs a bit of a break. Could you pick us up here?"

"Wait, what? Sherlock Holmes?"

"Long story."

"Right. I'm on my way."

"Who was that?" John asked, coming back into the console room. Sherlock followed, still limping slightly and looking disgruntled. The Doctor grinned. "An old friend. He'll be meeting us here in about an hour. In the meantime, how does the Sherlock Holmes Museum sound?"

An hour later, Sherlock was sitting, sulking, on the steps inside the TARDIS doors, John and the Doctor standing outside. They had had to forcibly remove him from the museum, after he pointed out that two of the staff were having affairs, one was a closeted lesbian, and that the Watson impersonator was a criminal on the run. The Doctor had barely managed to have the police not brought down on them using his psychic paper —Sherlock's insistence that it was blank had not helped — and he was starting to regret bringing them here.

A small black car pulled up to the curb a short way down the road from them, leaving the Doctor no time to muse. "Stay here a minute," he told John, then walked briskly off toward the car. John squinted at the man climbing out, trying to see what he could figure out before Sherlock got to him. Average height, long blue coat, military stride, but somehow not military…

"So, Doctor, you're saying you've got the genuine Sherlock Holmes with you?" John overheard the two men talking as they walked back toward him.

"Oho, but that's not all. Jack, Sherlock Holmes has —" here the Doctor cupped his hand and whispered something into Jack's ear; Jack stepped back, shock on his face. "You don't think he's —" he returned.

"No, it wouldn't be. He's dead, burnt and gone."

Now they had reached the TARDIS. Sherlock stood up, surveying the visitor. Lives in Cardiff, but American originally. Probably bi- or pan-sexual. Human, but has a non-terrestrial weapon in his coat. Eyes are old, very old but jovial. Skin on the face is much too smooth and clean for a man who works with machines and weapons as much as his hands show. Can afford extensive plastic surgery? doesn't dress like it — somehow immortal…?

"So I'm told I'm speaking to Sherlock Holmes?" Jack asked, offering his hand. Sherlock nodded, giving a halfhearted smile, still trying to work out what this man was. "Are you immortal?" he asked, confused (and thereby uncomfortable) enough to avoid all semblance of common courtesy.

"Ha! He's good!" Jack exclaimed, grinning. "Yes. Accidentally. Killed him in the process—" he gestured to the Doctor "—but everything worked out for the better."

"Hey, I rather liked that face." The Doctor pretended to be hurt. Sherlock chuckled.

Once they had gotten everything made clear to John — yes, both the Doctor and Jack were immortal — (clear as mud, he thought) and the TARDIS had gotten back to full power again, Jack explained the situation.

"Right, so there are Cybermen somewhere near London, Doctor, and even Torchwood's technology can't find them. We know there were only about twenty that slipped through the Rift two weeks ago, and there haven't been any suspiciously missing persons from the area, so we doubt they've added to their band. Can you find them with the TARDIS?"

Before the Doctor could answer, he heard a familiar tramping sound coming up the sidewalk toward them. Jack gave him a look — I'll take this one — the Doctor nodded, quickly pushing Sherlock and John behind him up the stairs, further into the TARDIS.

Delete. Delete. Deleeeete

Jack slumped to the floor, electrocuted by the fist of the metal thing in the doorway.

You are the Doctor.

You will come with me.