The first thing Molly felt as they arrived in an alley in London was an overwhelming sense of nausea and a splitting headache. She leaned against a nearby wall, clutching her head and trying really hard not to puke. "What the hell was that?" she growled out.

"Time travel without a capsule," the Doctor answered, looking better off than Molly or Sherlock, but still a little green around the gills. "That's a killer."

Jack seemed alright - probably from practice, since it was his Vortex Manipulator they'd used to get there. "Still, at least we made it," he pointed out, looking around at where they'd landed. "Earth, twenty first century by the looks of it. Talk about lucky."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and reminded Jack, "That wasn't luck, that was me."

Molly blanched as she remembered the Master stealing the TARDIS, and how close the Futurekind had gotten to getting them.

The TARDIS had disappeared, and the Futurekind were nearly through the door. Now Sherlock, Jack, Molly, and the Doctor were all working to keep the door shut, but the Doctor was also trying to sonic Jack's Vortex Manipulator. "Hold still!" he growled impatiently. "Don't move! Hold it still!"

"I'm telling you, it's broken," Jack told him impatiently, "It hasn't worked for years."

"That's because you didn't have me," the Doctor snapped. He gave a short cry of triumph when the Vortex Manipulator lit up. The Time Lord grabbed hold of it, ordering sharply, "Molly, Sherlock, grab hold, now!" They obeyed quickly. Just as the Futurekind got through the door, the Doctor activated the Vortex Manipulator, sending them screeching through the Time Vortex, until they arrived on Earth.

"The moral is," Jack decided as they headed down the alley and back onto the street, "if you're going to get stuck at the end of the universe, get stuck with an ex-Time Agent and his vortex manipulator." The effects had basically faded from their rather unorthodox flight, though Molly still felt a little shaky. Sherlock seemed sort of white in the face, though he hadn't said anything.

"Really?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. "I rather thought it would've been don't let the psychotic Time Lord steal the only comfortable form of transport." He ignored Jack and turned to the Doctor. "I'm assuming that this 'regeneration' you referred to earlier is what allowed Yana to change his voice and appearance."

Molly's brow furrowed. "I keep hearing about regeneration, but so far no one's explained it." She sent a slightly irritable glance toward the Doctor. Trust him to not explain something important until it was too late. "Care to shed some light?"
The Doctor sighed, seeming irritated that he had to take the time to explain it. He fired off a quick explanation: "Time Lords have this thing, this ability, when we're dying. Our cells start rebuilding themselves, healing us, but also changing us. DNA, voice, face, personality slightly, everything."

Molly stared at the Doctor in shock. "You're saying that anytime in the last year you could've turned into an entirely different person and you didn't think to warn me?" she asked incredulously. Normally, she wouldn't get this irritated, but it'd been a rough day. "All those times we could've died, and you couldn't' have taken two seconds to warn me?"

"Well, it really wasn't an issue until now," the Time Lord snarked. His brow furrowed as he turned to Sherlock. "Hold up, how'd you know his appearance changed?"

"Because I know his voice," Sherlock said simply. Without explaining, he hurried past the group, heading towards a nearby shop window, where a TV inside was displaying some sort of news station. A homeless man sat slumped against the wall, staring morosely at the screen. He was tapping out some sort of rhythm with his fingers – da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum. Bewildered, the rest of the travelers followed the detective, who pointed to the man on the screen. "That's him."

Molly studied the man, baffled. "Who's he?"

Jack looked at her in surprise. "He's been in the news for months. How do you not know him?"

"Haven't been to Earth in a year, sorry," Molly said a little irritably. "So who is he?"

"Harold Saxon, Britain's new Prime Minister," Sherlock supplied.

Molly felt a shiver run down her spine. The psychotic Time Lord was now Prime Minister of Britain? Even if he'd been a good Time Lord like the Doctor, that wouldn't have been good news. A bad one? She didn't even want to think about it. "Prime Minister?" she repeated shakily.

The Doctor let out a low whistle. "The Master is Prime Minister of Great Britain," he stated, sounding like he couldn't believe it. On-screen, Saxon smiled, waving to the crowd, looking for all the world like a confident politician. A blond woman came to his side, sharing a kiss with Saxon. Rings were visible on both of their hands. The Doctor's brow furrowed. "The Master and his wife?"

On-screen, Saxon stood outside of the building designated Saxon Headquarters, speaking to the crowd. "This country has been sick," he told the listening crowd. "This country needs healing. This country needs medicine." He looked directly at the camera, suddenly wearing a dangerous smirk as he added, "In fact, I'd go so far as to say that what this country really needs right now, is a Doctor."

SCENEBREAK

They hurried back into the alley as quickly as they could, now that they knew how far-reaching the power of the Master was. The Doctor still seemed somewhat in shock. "Alright. The Master's the Prime Minister. That's... definitely quite a bit not good." He ran a hand distractedly through his wild hair, ruffling it in his frustration. "Alright. So. Prime Minister. Now what?" He turned suddenly to Sherlock. "How did you know that was Saxon's voice?" he asked abruptly

Sherlock pulled out his phone, flipping quickly through some old texts. When he got the one he wanted, he pulled it up for the Doctor to see. "My brother holds a position of power in the government. He had his suspicions about Harold Saxon some months ago and asked me to look into it. He didn't tell me anything to make me think it was worth my time, but I remember the voice from a clip he sent me of one of Saxon's talks."

The Doctor's tone grew more urgent. "That brother of yours, any chance we could talk to him? Wouldn't mind having an ally in the government at this point. Or more information on Saxon."

Sherlock nodded. "I think he owes me a favor or two."

Molly turned to Sherlock with a worried glance. "Wait. Does Mycroft know you're alive?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

SCENEBREAK

A half hour later, they found themselves in a warehouse much like the one Molly and the Doctor had met Sherlock in. They'd been picked up by black car with tinted windows, with a driver in a tux and black shades. Molly practically expected them to pull up to MIB headquarters, but she supposed the dinky warehouse worked too. Mysterious and non-descript. She could see dramatics ran in the family.

She'd never met Mycroft Holmes personally, but she'd heard a bit about him from Sherlock and John, though the extent of his influence was never really made clear. It would definitely be interesting to meet the older brother of Sherlock Holmes. Even in the present danger they were in, she couldn't help but feel curious. What could a relative of Sherlock's possibly be like?

They were met inside by a somewhat stocky man with a queer smile that left her in no doubt that he was Sherlock's brother. He nodded briefly to her. "Molly Hooper, I presume," he greeted.

She nodded. "And you must be Mycroft."

He continued that queer smile of his. While it was smug and slightly knowing, there seemed to be nothing malicious in it. Yet. "Indeed. I can only imagine the things my brother has been saying about me, but moving on." He turned to Jack, his smile becoming more of a smirk. "Well, here's a face I didn't expect to see. Captain Jack Harkness, head of Torchwood. Tell me, how long did it take your little establishment to figure out what Saxon was up to? Or did you just bumble around with typical Torchwood subtlety until you happened upon an answer?"

Molly frowned. Torchwood. Where had she heard that word before. Then she saw the Doctor's face, the hurt and loss in his expression, and she remembered. Torchwood were the ones responsible for Canary Wharf. "You work for Torchwood?" he asked in a tone shaky with rage.

Jack sighed. "I knew this wouldn't be a fun conversation. Yes, I work for Torchwood, but I swear to you, it's different. It's changed. There's only half a dozen of us now."

"Everything Torchwood did," the Doctor practically growled, "and you're part of it?"

"The old regime was destroyed at Canary Wharf," Jack told him firmly. "I rebuilt it, I changed it, and when I did that, I did it for you, in your honor."

"He's quite right," Mycroft intercepted lazily. "Torchwood's gone from a top-notch facility to five idiots bumbling around the city trying to keep aliens under wraps. I really wouldn't be too worried about it." His gaze shifted over to the Doctor, sharpening with interest and curiosity, seeming more intense than even Sherlock's ever was. "And last but not least, the legendary Doctor." He held out a hand, which the Time Lord warily shook. "We've had our eye on you for some time. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The Doctor gave a tight smile. "Can't say I like the sound of that, but we'll save that for later," he said pleasantly, though Molly could hear an edge to his tone. "Now, what do you know about Saxon?"

Mycroft's expression immediately grew weary, tiredness gleaming in his eyes. "Very little, to be honest," he said with a sigh. "Harold Saxon's records stretch back for years, but it's a very patchy job. A child could see through it."

"You think the records are forged," Sherlock realized.

Mycroft fixed him with an irritated glare. "As I tried to tell you months ago, yes." He turned back to the Doctor and continued, "The most I can make of it is that up until eighteen months ago, there was no Harold Saxon, only faulty records that no one bothered to check. Then he showed up, blazed through the ranks, and captured the nation's heart. But there's nothing natural about the way he won that election. His speeches, there's no substance to them, no plan or promises or anything of value, and yet he won by a landslide. The people adore him, but there seems little reason for them to."

He turned to Jack with a knowing expression. "What about you, Captain? What were your thoughts on the election?"

"I was planning on voting for Saxon, actually," he admitted.

"Any particular reason why?"

Harkness shrugged, his expression becoming unfocused. "Dunno. There was just something about him. Something you could trust. Can't really remember what he talked about in his speeches, all I know is that it was good. He was someone you could trust." As he spoke, Molly noticed his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the side of his leg. Da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum. She frowned. That same rhythm again. Why did it keep popping up?

Mycroft smirked, the turned back to the Doctor. "You see? Even the good Captain here has fallen for Saxon's charm, and with little persuasion. Saxon seems completely unversed in the finer points of political etiquette, yet he has a nation eating out of his hand. It's unnatural. Ask anyone who voted for him, you'll get the same answer. They don't remember any of his speeches or the promises that he's made, just the sound of his voice and the fact they can trust him."

The Doctor frowned. "How has he managed all this? The Master was always sort of hypnotic, but what you're talking about is on a massive scale. I've no idea how he could've managed that."

The elder Holmes raised an eyebrow. "I see you know more about Saxon than I do," he prompted.

"He's a Time Lord, like me, he's called the Master, and he's dangerous," the Doctor told him firmly. "More dangerous than anything you've faced in your entire life."

Mycroft's unblinking gaze became grave. "I believe you," he said quietly. "Which is why, as of now, I'm going underground. I'm afraid I'm not going to be much used to you after all."

The Doctor's brow creased. "Wait, what? Why?"

The human sighed. "There will be no report or broadcast of this, but earlier today, the entire Cabinet died while Saxon was in the room." The Doctor's expression hardened at this, pain flashing in his eyes. Molly felt a stab of sympathy. The Time Lord seemed to be blaming himself for his fellow Time Lord's actions, even though none of this was his fault. Not that that had ever stopped him before. Mycroft continued, "All my influence hinges on subtlety and power plays, but Saxon has no subtlety. He's like wildfire. He does whatever he wants without regard for consequence or politics, and there's nothing I can do to stop him. My politics can't battle his technology, or whatever he's using to sway people to his side. I'll be better off playing from the dark from now on, where I might at least be able to do some good." He turned to Sherlock, something like concern flashing in his eyes. "Take care, Sherlock," he finally said. "Don't do anything too stupid while I'm gone."

Sherlock stared back, his expression carefully controlled, but Molly could see the faint hint of emotion in his eyes. "Likewise," was all he said.

Mycroft turned and began walking away, calling out over his shoulder, "My driver will take you wherever you need to go, but after that, you're on your own."

Sorry for the short chapter, but last chapter was extra-long, so it kind of evens out. Anyway, a few people reminded me that Mycroft should be included in this, since he's practically the British Government, which got me thinking about what effects Saxon's reign would have on him. He's too smart not to have noticed that something was up, but Saxon's influence would be way too strong for Mycroft to combat. All he can do is disappear and use the last of his resources to cover his tracks. He may be the British Government, but his power, as he says, relies on politics - and Saxon has no regard for politics.

More tomorrow, again, sorry for the short chapter, but I hope the departure from canon made up for it. Expect more of that in the following chapters. Also, I made it here so that it could've been either way about Mycroft knowing whether Sherlock was alive or not, since we won't know for sure until season 3 comes out, but I'm pretty sure he knows. He knew in the canon series, after all, and he'd be an invaluable resource in hunting down Moriarty's network.

BloodLily: Rupert Grint's too distinctive I think, but one of the Phelps twins would be brilliant. :) I don't know enough about Rassilon to say - I've never seen Classic Who. Man, it seems like everyone's seen Classic Who but me.

KittyNyan2012: Thanks, that's been edited now. Thanks for letting me know. :) Don't worry, you're not being rude at all, it's helpful to know my mistakes so I can fix them. Otherwise, how do we learn? And aw, thanks! :D